Wrong Bed Baby (Crescent Cove 10)

“Lu.” Xavier knelt beside me and placed his warm hand on my back. “Do I need to call an ambulance? 911?”

“No. Goddess, no. I just need to go into the bathroom.” I hated asking for help more than anything on this earth.

My brother’s strong arms slid around my waist. Gently, he turned me until I was cradled against his chest. Since when did my brother have this kind of muscle power?

“Which way?”

I pointed limply.

His eyebrows snapped together. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?”

“No. It’s just…”

The baby flu. I really couldn’t keep calling it that.

He set me down carefully. “Do you want me to, uh, go in there with you?”

I pushed him back and slammed the door in his face just in time to lose the rest of my Pedialyte and whatever acid was trying to shoot hellfire up my esophagus.

“Can I do anything? Crackers? Ginger ale? Hazmat suit?” he asked through the door.

“Go away.”

I heard him pace down the hallway before returning. His voice was a low murmur. I didn’t really care since my cheek was currently pressed to the tiles of my floor. It was so lovely and cool.

“No, I don’t know when I’ll be back in the office. Just cancel the rest of my meetings.”

Meetings? My brother? Was I moving into the hallucination portion of my symptoms?

“Go back to work,” I tried to shout through the door. “Work, ha. Since when,” I mumbled.

“I heard that.”

I flipped off the closed door.

“Is it safe to come in?”

“No.” I moved my cheek to another tile. Ahhh. Coolness. I could just sleep here.

“I’m coming in.”

“Haven’t you witnessed enough puke?”

“It was far worse after Jackson’s Memorial Day bash. You drank enough purple punch to fill the lake.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” That was the first and last day I drank grain alcohol in my life. “You’re the one who made the punch.”

“I didn’t tell you to drink all of it.” He opened the door and hauled me off the floor, then stood me in front of the pedestal sink. “You look like shit, Lu.”

“Thank you. I match how I feel.” And then I had to grab the sink for a whole new reason. My brother had a faint blue glow around him. It was dark and a little murky, but it was new. In all the years I’d had my abilities, I’d never once been able to read my brother.

I reached back and held his hand for a second. “I’m fine, X. I promise. This will pass.”

He met my gaze in the mirror. Eyes so much like mine stared right back at me. “Is this a nine-month affliction?”

I looked away and turned on the sink.

“I take it that’s a yes. Do I need to kill the teacher?”