Michael looked at her in confusion, and then he was also mouthing an expletive as his gaze landed on me. Then they were both rushing toward me, and I was trapped by a floor full of sponges. I dropped down, gathering them up.
The loudspeaker above us crackled to life: “Sutton, your pharmacy pickup is ready.”
“Sutton,” Michael said, “this isn’t what it looks like.”
“I don’t want to hear your terrible excuses,” I said. Then I looked at Dr. Franklin, remembering what she’d said about my daddy issues minutes ago. She wastellingpeople that? What else had she told everyone? “You don’t practice patient-therapist confidentiality?”
“No… I mean, yes. I mean, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“You can lose your license over something like this.” I deposited my armful of sponges onto the nearest shelf and righted the cardboard display.
“Please don’t turn her in,” she said.
“Her? What does that mean?”
“Sara… Dr. Franklin. That’s my sister.”
“What?”
“I was just borrowing her office after hours. She didn’t know. It was supposed to be funny.”
“Funny?” I asked in disgust. “You’re not even a therapist?”
“I will be, I mean, I’m studying to be. I’m sorry.”
My face must’ve displayed how I felt about those statements because she shook her head and added, “I screwed up.”
“You knew? The whole time you knew we weren’t a couple?” I asked. Here I’d been spouting off about how mine and Elijah’schemistrywas so strong that she couldn’t guess we were strangers. Really, it was because she knew all along. “This was some sick prank?”
Her mouth opened, then closed.
“Don’t tell Tara,” Michael said. “Please. I will. I’ll tell her.”
“You have twenty-four hours,” I said, and now that my path was clear of sponges, I wheeled away.
“I’m so sorry!” Fake Dr. Franklin called after me.
I held up my hand. “Save it.” Because I didn’t want to hear anything else she had to say. I couldn’t, not right now. Not with anger bubbling in my chest and tears pooling behind my eyes. They didn’t get to see me like this.
CHAPTER 41
Even though I’d overheard Michael say that me and my daddy issues were temporary in Elijah’s life, I still found myself at his door an hour after dropping off the meds and groceries back at home. I still wasn’t sure if he knew that Dr. Franklin was a fake, but the longer he had to prepare a lie, the better that lie would be. Maybe my mom had always been right, Elijah and Michael were just like my father.
Michael had probably immediately warned Elijah. I should’ve instantly told Tara too. Giving Michael twenty-four hours to perfect his story wasn’t a good idea. But I was still reeling.
I took a deep breath and knocked on his door.
Elijah opened the door with a smile, shirtless and wearing a pair of athletic shorts. “You changed your mind.” I could feel every emotion—anger, shock, sadness, fury—written on my face and his smile disappeared. “What’s wrong? Is your mom okay?”
“She’s fine. Can I come in?”
He held open the door. “Of course, come in. I wasn’t expecting you, so don’t judge me.” He picked up a few cups from the coffee table and a shirt from the back of the couch and walked to the connecting kitchen. The room was dim, the paused television providing a hazy glow. He flipped on a few lights as he walked back toward me, pulling on his shirt. “Do you want to sit?”
The room was nice, cozy—a large couch and an oversized chair in warm colors. Big, beautiful nature photographs hung on the walls. Unlike the black-and-white at his parents’ house, these were in vibrant color.
“Yes,” I said, sinking into the couch. He sat next to me, but then I popped right back up, unable to sit. My chest hurt, and it felt like I needed to keep moving or I would implode.
“Talk to me,” he said. “Does this have to do with your text? I responded. You never wrote back.”
