Bab 42: Chapter 42

Wyatt looked up, through the tomato plants when he saw movement, and smiled at Izzy radiantly.

“Hey, I’m making salad,” he explained, nodding at the basket he had on his arm.

“Hi, I guessed you were—shit,” Izzy cut himself off. He felt a bit woozy suddenly. He knew better than to rub the sting spot.

“What’s wrong? You look flushed?” Wyatt peered at him from the other side of the fucking plants.

“Bee,” Izzy said and gestured at his neck. “Got stung again.” Then suddenly the world tilted on his axis and he went down, hard, gasping for breath.

What the fuck? 13

Wyatt was no stranger to being scared, but usually those fears were formless, nebulous things that swirled around in his subconscious and fed his anxiety. When Izzy’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the greenhouse floor, there was nothing imprecise about the fear that gripped Wyatt: it was sharp and cold and immediate.

“Justin!” Wyatt yelled. He dropped his basket and tomatoes scattered everywhere. “Justin! Help!”