And I also couldn’t say how Connor responded, because my mind had started whirring. I’d wanted to be a jewelry designer once, but only because I loved Annie’s collection. She’d let me try on everything.
I loved books, but I didn’t necessarily want to be a writer or librarian.
And my dad and the Elkins nurses told me I had an excellent bedside manner, but I could never get into medical or nursing school. Biology was the bane of my existence.
“I took a look at Northwestern’s psychology department,” I remembered Erica saying after I’d gotten my acceptance letter. “The courses look fascinating!”
“Cool,” I said, but I hadn’t engaged with her. In fact, I’d been hurt. What did she mean by that? I’d heard from friends that psychology was the major for people who weren’t particularly interested in or good at anything.
And her words from lunch with her friends last month were a whisper in my ear:She seems to have lost all her drive and sense of direction…
“But I could see myself living a lot of places,” I told Connor, and by that, I meant I had no idea where I wanted to live. I tried to shift the subject. “Meredith said she and Wit were kind of nomads?”
“Yeah.” Connor nodded. “They would book an Airbnb for a few months, then pack up and move somewhere completely different.” He lightly splashed me. “Speaking of Meredith, you still game to go to the Farm for dinner on Friday?”
“Definitely,” I said, then I suggested we swim back to shore for lunch. My stomach rumbled. Before getting in line for the Chappy Ferry, we’d stopped in Edgartown for BLTs, potato chips, and fizzy drinks. Muffins too.
“This is insane,” Connor said after finishing half his sandwich. “So good, right?”
“The best,” I agreed, even though I wasn’t paying my BLT nearly enough attention. I’d only taken two bites.
I was too busy wrestling with the idea that dinner with Meredith and Wit, who were important to Connor, felt serious. Like more than a casual dinner date.
And if I hadn’t been busy worrying, I not only would have raved about how delicious the BLTs were, but I also would’ve immediately picked up on the hives blooming on Connor’s neck.
* * *
Neither of us noticed until he started touching his lips. Slowly, and sort of in awe, as if he’d only just discovered he had a mouth. “Connor…” I said after a beat. “Are you okay?”
By way of response, he smacked his lips once.
They werepuffy.
“I need my EpiPen,” he said, now itching the hives on his skin. He sounded calm enough, but there was a hitch in his voice. “God, this hasn’t happened—”
He didn’t finish his thought; instead, he sprung up from his towel and bolted up the beach. Heart spiking, I grabbed my tote bag and followed.
“But you didn’t eat anything!” I called after him, not caring how silly I looked. “Last time I checked, a BLT doesn’t have tree nuts or shellfish.” I paused. “Or horse DNA.”
Connor didn’t answer, and I pumped my arms harder to keep up with him. I considered myself a runner, but this guy couldrun. We sprinted past children building sandcastles and afather-daughter game of Frisbee. I nearly plowed into a couple of bookworms reading in beach loungers.
My bare feet burned when I hit the parking lot’s pavement.Shit, shit, shit, I thought, heat scorching my feet, but I plowed onward. Connor had beaten me to the Jeep, but his hands were fumbling with his key fob. (He’d tucked it under the wheel well when we’d arrived, trusting our fellow islanders.) “Give them to me,” I blurted, and upon snatching the keys, pressed the unlock button as hard as I could and yanked open the driver’s side door. “Where is it?”
Connor wheezed. “…Center…console.”
I barely heard him over the blood pulsing in my ears, but thankfully I managed to unlatch the console. I didn’t have to dig around long before locating the EpiPen, but I had no idea how to use it. “Here!” I screeched at the same time Connor grabbed it from me.
And then in one swift movement, he pulled off some type of safety cap and stabbed himself in the thigh. I heard a faintclick, and after three hard heartbeats, Connor slumped against the car and closed his eyes. He was pale and dripping with sweat but seemingly okay.
I let out all the air in my lungs.
“We have to call 911,” he said once our pulses calmed. “I need an ambulance.”
“Why?” I asked, confused. No one in my family had any allergies. “Didn’t the EpiPen do its job?”
“I think so.” Connor blinked open his eyes, and god, they were so blue. Staring into them made me feel like the world was tilting over, even though my feet were firmly on flat ground. “But the ER is protocol, in case the EpiPen is only temporarily effective.” He glanced over at the humming Chappy Ferry and sighed. “It’s going to take the EMTs forever to get over here.”
We made the executive decision to leave the Jeep and our stuff so we could quickly hop back over to Edgartown. I forked over our pedestrian passenger fee, and Connor used my phone to call 911 from the barge. The wind whipped through the air, but I heard him explain and give the dispatcher our location.
