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EIGHTY-NINE | ECHO
Firm hands hauled me up, dragging me from under my armpits and heaving me onto my feet. The world swirled around me, so I kept my eyes closed and allowed myself to be manhandled.
“You can’t fall asleep on me again, Cals,” Harper muttered. “I have to get you home so I can take a proper look at that arm.”
I winced at the word home. I hoped Harper thought it was related to the throbbing in my forearm, rather than his word choice.
My body did not feel entirely my own as Harper slung one of my unresponsive arms across his shoulders, tucking me tightly against his side. My legs dragged across the uneven ground, dried leaves and broken twigs mounding at my toes.
“You know,” he said, his tone attempting to sound casual, conversational, “I always thought you seemed… more. More than everyone else around you. Otherwordly, almost.”
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