The private plane hums softly around us as we settle into the big leather couches near the back. The lights are dimmed, a movie is playing, but none of us are really watching.
We’re just… laying there.
Pressed together like anxious puppies who’ve survived a thunderstorm.
May is curled up in the middle, still wrapped in her fluffy robe with a pillow behind her back and a giant fleece blanket Mum had shipped in from her “recovery kit.” She’s human again now, but still so pale it makes my heart hurt. Her eyes are rimmed red from exhaustion, but her mouth twitches at the corners every time Ryan spoons another bite of food into her mouth.
“I can feed myself,” she grumbles, barely able to keep her eyes open.
“Not fast enough,” Ryan says, as if that’s a medical fact.
She’s too tired to argu
