The Mediator #3: Reunion Page 18

  Jesse did something then that he'd never done before. I doubt he'll ever do it again, either.

  And it happened so fast, I wasn't even sure afterward if it had really happened, or if, in my drugged-out state, I imagined it.

  But I'm pretty sure he reached out and touched my cheek.

  That's all. Sorry if I got your hopes up. He just touched my cheek, the only part of me, I imagine, that wasn't scraped, bruised, or broken.

  But I didn't care. He'd touched my cheek. Grazed it, actually, with the backs of his fingers, not the tips. Then he dropped his hand.

  "Yes, querida," he said. "I understand."

  My heart started beating so fast, I was certain he could hear it. Plus, I probably don't need to tell you, my ribs really, really ached. Each pulse seemed to send my heart slamming into them.

  "And the only reason I got so angry was because I didn't want to see this happen to you."

  On the word this, he gestured toward my face. I must, I realized, have looked pretty bad.

  But I didn't care. He'd touched my cheek. His touch had been gentle, and, for a ghost, warm.

  Am I pathetic, or what, that a simple gesture like that could make me so head-over-heels happy?

  I said, idiotically, "I'll be all right. I won't even need any plastic surgery, they said."

  As if a guy born in 1830 even knows what plastic surgery is. God, can I spoil a mood, or what?

  Still, Jesse didn't exactly draw away. He stood there looking down at me like he wanted to say more. I was perfectly willing to let him, too. Especially if he called me querida again.

  Only it turned out he didn't call me anything. Because at that moment Gina came bursting back into the room clutching two cans of soda in her hands.

  "Guess what?" she said as Jesse shimmered, and then, with a smile to me, disappeared. "I ran into your mom in the hallway, and she said to tell you your second MRI came out normal, and you can start getting ready to go home. She's having all the paperwork done right now. Isn't that great?"

  I grinned at her, even though doing so hurt my split lip.

  "Great," I said.

  Gina looked at me curiously. "What are you so happy about?" she wanted to know.

  I continued to grin at her. "You just said I get to go home."

  "Yeah, but you looked happy before I said that." Gina narrowed her eyes at me. "Suze. What gives? What's going on?"

  "Oh," I said, still smiling. "Nothing."

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JENNY CARROLL has lived in Indiana, California, and France, and has worked as an assistant dorm manager at a large urban university, an illustrator, and a writer of historical romance novels (under a pseudonym). In addition to The Mediator, she is the author of the series 1-800-Where-R-You and, under the name of Meg Cabot, The Princess Diaries, now a major motion picture from Walt Disney Co. She currently resides in New York City with her husband and a one-eyed cat named Henrietta. Be sure to visit Jenny at her Web site, www.jennycarroll.com