Don't Let Go by Michelle Gagnon Page B

else.”
    Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imagine that he was sitting at his desk back home. His laptop was propped open in front of him, and he was sipping some of his dad’s good whiskey—
    A searing sensation in his lower back made him howl.
    “Try to stay still,” Noa said tightly. “It might be a little deeper than we thought.”
    The next stab of pain almost sent him bucking off the table.
    “Steady,” Loki warned, bearing down hard on his shoulders.
    Peter let loose with every curse he knew. The agony just kept growing. It felt like Noa was digging around, gouging his entire back with the knife. A shriek built inside him, and his whole body went rigid and tense.
    “Maybe I should get hold of some morphine,” Loki mused. “This would be easier if he was out cold.”
    Noa didn’t answer. Peter felt light-headed, his view of the room tunneled and refracted. “Oh, God,” he gasped.
    “I need him to hold still,” Noa said through gritted teeth.
    “One sec.” Loki’s hands released; Peter saw him dig around in his pocket. “I was saving this,” Loki said peevishly, drawing out a small pill. “But I guess he can have it.”
    “I’m not eating something that was in your pocket,” Peter protested, but Loki popped it in his mouth while he was speaking. He nearly gagged on the pill; it left a chemical taste in his mouth as he choked it down. “What was that?”
    “The last of my oxy,” Loki grumbled. “You’re welcome.”
    Peter shook his head. “I don’t do drugs.”
    “Well, you do now. Enjoy.”
    Peter’s whole body felt sick and trembly. Sweat coursed from every pore. Aside from the hospital stay last fall, his only previous injury had been a twisted ankle on a ski run when he was eight years old. This was about a million times worse.
    “Almost done,” Noa said, still sounding strained. Peter felt something running off the sides of his back: Was that blood ? The thought made him even more light-headed. This had been a mistake. God, if she hit something critical, like an artery . . .
    He shrieked as a spike drove into his spine.
    “Got it!” Noa said triumphantly.
    The pressure abruptly eased, replaced by a dull throbbing. “Let me see it,” he gasped.
    She lowered a pair of tweezers down in front of his eyes. Peter frowned: They were clamped around something way too tiny to have caused so much pain. “That’s it?” he asked, dumbfounded.
    “You’d think it would have ten fingers and ten toes, the amount of noise you made,” Loki grunted. “Christ, no wonder women have the babies.”
    “How badly am I bleeding?” Peter asked as air slowly returned to his lungs.
    “Not too badly,” Noa said reassuringly. His back throbbed; it felt like gallons must be spewing out. “I’ll keep the cotton on it for a few minutes, then we can bandage it.”
    “Too bad I’m not you,” he muttered, suddenly completely drained. He sank back down on the table, his cheek sticking to the trash bag as he mumbled, “You’d probably be down to a scar by tomorrow.”
    “Huh?” Loki asked.
    “Nothing,” Noa said sharply. “Peter’s a slow healer, and I’m not.”
    “You should see,” Peter mumbled, feeling himself drift away. The oxy was definitely kicking in. He was really wishing they’d started with it, then maybe he wouldn’t have felt anything at all. “She’s like Wolverine, cut her and she heals instantly.”
    “That’s not true.” There was a warning in her voice, but Peter was too far gone to notice or care.
    “Seriously, they made her into a superhero, man. She barely eats or sleeps, she . . .” He tried to remember all the other changes in Noa, but at that moment something about the way his hands looked struck him as hilariously funny, and he dissolved in a fit of giggles.
    Which is why he didn’t notice how quiet the room had gone around him.
    “What’s he talking about?” Loki asked after a beat.
    “Nothing,” Noa said dismissively. “He’s just