This day just kept getting weirder.
“Oh, Age, I didn’t know you were up, I would have brought you a coffee,” said Libby, swigging her extra-large Dunkin’ Donuts iced. She offered it to AJ as Melissa waved goodbye.
AJ took Melissa’s seat, accepted the coffee, then told her big sister what she’d overheard. Libby seemed mildly annoyed by this, but she did not seem surprised.
“You knew?” said AJ. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Libby tilted her head and blinked once. “It was need to know,” she said with a condescending simper that turned AJ’s blood to napalm. “Lucas knows the system, so we’ve been advising them on how to deal with the insurance carriers.”
“So what do we do now?” said AJ impatiently.
“Nothing,” snapped Libby, taking back her coffee and swirling it. “This isn’t your problem, AJ.”
“Of course it is,” said AJ. If it were AJ in that bed, Patrick wouldn’t rest until he had figured out a way to help. There was no way AJ was going to sit on her hands just because Libby had declared herself Patrick’s health proxy.
Libby’s eyes narrowed. “Oh.Iget it,” she said. “AJ saves the day with all her big TV money, is that it?”
“That’s not—”
“Hate to break it to you, Age, but this situation is fucked beyond what you—or any of us—can do,” she said. “You can’t always play the hero.”
Libby took another long sip of her iced coffee and went back to scrolling on her phone. AJ gaped at her, then stalked out of the waiting room.
Without knowing how she got there, she emerged in the hospital’s main entrance, an atrium with a tacky if calming water feature. AJ paused in front of the trapezoidal fountain, watching the pennies ripple at the bottom.
There was no “big TV money.” Like most glamour jobs,SNLpaid in prestige. AJ was compensated per episode, amounting to $82,967.23 annually, which basically covered food and her mortgage.
With fresh regret, AJ thought of Molly Magnusson chiding her for giving up her producer credit onInto the Blue.The show’s cultish fan base had given the series a life on DVD, and the Science channel sometimes ran marathons. AJ might have made a decent sum in residuals.
Why hadn’t she known better? Why didn’t people tell her things? Why did someone so beautiful, so bright have to be struck down? Were good people’s lives really so easily destroyed? Or had the wide-open future always been a myth?
AJ covered her eyes with her hand as hot tears soaked her face.
“AJ?”
At the sound of her name, AJ whirled around. Noah Drew stood tenfeet behind her, bathed in the muted white light of the atrium. AJ quickly wiped her cheeks.
This was a mirage. The hideous fountain was obviously cursed. Yet those were his hands. Those were his eyes. As AJ’s brain continued to paw at his image, her only thought wasIt’s you.
He was dressed more formally than he had been atSNL,in black slacks, a black cashmere sweater, and a long wool coat. AJ was more casual, in leggings, a sweatshirt, and sneakers.
The muscle in his jaw tensed as he took in her face. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping forward.
I really have been through something,AJ thought vaguely as she registered how grief had cowed her body since their last encounter. It had hunched her, made her heavy and sore. Was this how Noah had felt that whole summer, when it had been his mom?
You fuckingdeserveto be sick.
Shame bore down on AJ like a lodestone, followed by a flicker of panic. What was Noah doing at Simmons?
“Are you okay?” she asked back.
Noah’s dark eyes probed hers. AJ waited for the energetic thrum that normally accompanied this and felt…nothing.Shit.Their connection was rooted in trust, and she had taken a hatchet to that during their last interaction. They both had.
I’m not the only one who’s sick.
Noah was still searching her. As he took another step closer, AJ’s instinct was to cover herself, but she held her hands at her sides.
“Eudora’s getting some blood work done. Nothing to worry about,” he said at last.
