Of course. Cal lived in Eugene, which wasn't far. "Glad you came." I didn't know Cal as well as Rook, Spencer, and Wells. We'd all completed our residencies together, and as a result, our mothers had all made a strange sort of support group to gossip about their doctor sons. Book club, they called it. I'd been a victim of its matchmaking attempts a few weeks ago, but it wasn't our mothers who had prompted us all to become closer recently. It was each of the women Cal, Rook, and Spencer had fallen in love with. The more I thought about the circumstances that had created our group chat and eventual friendship, the more unreal it seemed. None of us were bosom buddies, but after three years of chatting over text with them, I found myself strangely attached to them. And our friendships.
He clapped me on the shoulder. "Coffee?"
Relieved to have a distraction from my own scattered thoughts, I gestured for him the lead the way. We both made our orders, and then Cal asked, "How is he?"
He didn't ask how Margot was—we all knew. The downside to having all brilliant doctors as friends was that we were smug bastards who knew everything already. Sometimes that was a blessing; I'd seen how Wells stumbled over trying to explain to his family that his sister was slowly suffocating. "He's rough. I think he really believed he'd find a cure for her."
Cal nodded, scratching his neck. "I was afraid of that."
"He isn't the most chatty," I added.
Cal raised a dark auburn eyebrow. "Are any of us?"
"You never shut up," I smiled mildly. I accepted my coffee from the barista with a "Thank you" and Cal did the same.
He squinted one eye. "Neither do you."
"Someone has to care about their stoic asses," I shrugged, sipping the bitter liquid.
"Amen to that." And it was at that moment I realized the friend I probablydidhave the most in common with was Cal. Neither of us was as serious as Wells or Rook. Neither of us was as dopey as Spencer, either. I might have been a little more cavalier with my personal relationships over the years, but the last I remembered, before he'd found his wife, Cal hadn't been interested in settling down. I walked over to a table and sat down, and Cal followed.
He toyed with the top of his cup. "I wasn't sure if he wanted friends here but figured I should show up all the same."
"Were you headed up when you saw me?" I asked, drinking more coffee. I had slept like shit, although somehow, I still felt wired. My bones hummed with a dissonant, distant fear. It sang Evelyn's name and felt like a warning bell.
"Yeah," Cal confirmed. "You?"
"Been here since last night," I said, taking a sip to stop myself from adding anything else. But Cal raised his eyebrows expectantly. I sighed. "I was with Evelyn until yesterday."
"She okay?"
Was she? God, I had no idea. The not knowing was slowly killing me. "She's in good hands," I said tightly.
Cal sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "Sometimes I think you got it right, you know." That wasn't exactly revelatory, so I just stared at him. Cal shrugged, clearing his throat. "You tease us all relentlessly for falling in love and caring about people. Sometimes I think you got it right."
I frowned. "Aren't you happy with Ruth?"
"Blissfully," Cal answered immediately, and his features softened. "Terrifyingly. The idea of losing her cripples me."
I should have felt smug at that, but his words twisted around my heart like barbed wire. "It is easier to stay unattached," I said distantly.
"I know it's worth the risk," Cal said, almost like he was thinking out loud. "But I also see the wisdom in your choices, I guess. Being here reminds me how short it all is. If I ever lose her," he paused, shaking his head. "I don't know. I'm not sure how I'd live with that."
Yes, that was how I'd chosen to live my life. No connections. No loss. My coffee turned to ash on my tongue because I suddenly remembered how it felt to have alyssum-scented fingers in my hair. To have a steady heartbeat under my ear and the soothing reassurance that everyone deserved comfort. My throat closed up, and I couldn't swallow my drink even if I tried.
I had chosen to live alone… but I didn't want to anymore. I thought of Wells and his family upstairs, mourning the impossible. I thought of Cal, so terrified of losing his wife it crippled him. I thought of the disgustingly adorable pictures of Rook's little girl in our group chat and how he looked at her like she was the brightest star in his sky.
And then I thought of how my entire body had gone weak with relief when I'd realized Evie was alright after I'd found her motionless on the side of the road. How terrified I'd been when Ghost had given his plan. How torn I'd been to leave her behind. How wracked with guilt I'd been since allowing her to be hurt. And I realized… it was already a done thing. It was a foregone conclusion. I hadn't managed to go my whole life without caring for others at all. I cared for my friends. I cared for their family members.
And I loved Evelyn Hathaway. I loved her so much, it had grown roots in my veins and bloomed in my heart before I'd even realized it. I loved her so much, I could barely sit still while I knew she was in danger without me. I loved her even knowing itwas likely she didn't feel the same way. I loved her even though it would probably hurt me someday. And I wanted the pain. I wanted the flowers and the bees, I wanted the batty Nan with her jasmine tea, and I wanted Evelyn. I wanted her soft touch and expressive eyes. I wanted honey kisses and marshmallow hugs.
"Oh my God," I muttered out loud.
Cal raised his eyebrows. "Hm?"
I looked at him, stunned. "I have to go."
His eyes bobbed left and then right. "You do?"
