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said. She felt a little transparent already.
    “We’re not eating until we got to the bloody hotel. I’m sick of driving. I’m not making it any longer than it needs to be.”
    Madison kept quiet. They drove through busy, well-lit streets. Chicago was huge and the bustle was strange compared to Pierre. Madison had grown up in small towns and cities made her feel claustrophobic.
    “This is more like it,” Blake said, sounding in a better mood for the first time in hours. “We should have come to stay in a place like this.”
    “You wanted to be close to your parents,” Madison pointed out. Blake had been the one that had chosen Pierre. She thought of their pending divorce. It would be strange for them to go their separate ways after so long. “Besides, you can always move here after.”
    Blake looked at her, the passing street lamps through intermittent beams of light on his face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. That seemed to be the norm, these days.
    When they got out and walked into the hotel Madison felt like she was going to drop. Her leg ached painfully and darkness throbbed at the edge of her vision in time with her pulse. Maybe she was dehydrated. She hadn’t had too much water, because she hadn’t wanted to keep asking Blake to pull over. Women couldn’t go in the bushes the way men could, and Blake liked to avoid gas stations and other pit stops unless it was necessary.
    Blake got the room key, but the secretary asked him to fill out a few forms.
    “I’m going to head on up to the room,” Madison said. She took the key from Blake and walked to the elevator. Her legs wouldn’t listen to her. They felt like lead and when she wanted to drag them like a child.
    The room was on the third floor with a view of Lake Michigan. Blake had really made an effort to get them something nice. She turned and looked at the double bed. Ironic that he still reserved a couple’s room, even though he didn’t want to be a couple anymore. Old habits died hard.
    Madison walked into the bathroom. She sank down on the bath mat. Her head was throbbing dully and she couldn’t focus. She tugged at the bandage with her fingers, struggling to undo it. It was soaked in blood, almost no white visibly anymore, only an ugly red. When she pulled it off the wound was red and inflamed, and blood poured out of it like she’d just cut it. Her head bothered her, and she felt short of breath. Strange? She’d never felt queasy about blood before.
    Dark spots started dancing in front of her eyes, and she leaned back, tipping her head so it rested on the edge of the bath. She felt her body slipping, and she didn’t do anything to stop it. The light slipped away, and she couldn’t follow it. She heard the hotel room door click, but it was far away. Blake called for her. She should probably have answered.
    When he walked into the bathroom, she heard him swear.
    “Madison!” he called out, and then she slipped into the black, letting it sweep her away.
    When she opened her eyes again she was surrounded by white ceilings and walls and the chemical pinch of disinfectant hung in the room. She heard the faint beeping and clicking and shuffling of shoes that always went with these smells.
    When she turned her head, Blake was sitting next to the bed, head on the mattress. He was asleep. The sun fell into the window. How long had she been out?
    “Blake?” she said and her voice was hoarse. She had an aftertaste in her mouth that she couldn’t place. She couldn’t remember eating anything. When she moved her hand something pulled against the skin and it hurt. She looked down and found a drip that was hooked up to an IV line.
    “Hey…” Blake’s gentle voice caressed her like it hadn’t done in years. She turned to him. He had dark circles under his eyes and stubble. He looked shabby. His hair stuck up in all directions and his eyes were bloodshot.
    “How are you feeling?”
    “I’m okay,” she said. She felt weak, but other