Maybe I am more of my father’s daughter than I realized.
That thought stiffens my spine, bringing me upright in my chair.
I can’t be him. Iwon’tbe him, not like that.
Which means I can’t keep going this way. It’s time to try the one thing I’ve been avoiding: telling the truth.
At this point, what can it hurt?
I grimace. It’s the end of my life here—my fantasy of a normal life—so actually, I suspect it’ll hurt quite a lot. But hopefully only in a way that doesn’t require medical attention.
Or a casket.
Gathering my courage, I stand. “I’ll bring you coffee and Froot Loops next time,” I tell Daan, my voice thick with tears and regret. “And you better wake up soon because Dove and her brother aren’t going to wait forever for that double date. Okay?”
I find Carter and Devon standing pretty much where I left them in the waiting room. Only now they’re facing off, with Carter vibrating with an angry tension while Devon looks on, eyebrow raised with that smug arrogance. An expression that, to be fair, does kind of make you want to punch him.
Chessa has moved closer to join them. Sort of. She’s staring out the windows with her back to me, ignoring them and seemingly everything around her.
A picture of this moment would present like an album cover for the world’s most dysfunctional band.
But then again, it’s possible that I’m just trying to distract myself by focusing on anything but what I’m about to do.
“Hey,” I say, as the ICU doors close behind me.
The three of them turn toward me as one, and the force of their full attention makes me stumble, catching the edge of my shoe on the carpet.
“Is there any change?” Chessa asks, edging closer. She has one arm wrapped around her waist still, as if for comfort, and the other arm is propped on it, bent at the elbow so she can continue chewing her thumbnail. One of her nervous tics.
It makes my heart fill with a heavy sense of ineffable sadness. Iknowher, and I won’t. Not after this.
“Not that I could tell,” I say. “He’s still… asleep.”
She nods curtly. “I’m going back in to sit with him. I’ll wait there for my dad to come back and pick me up.”
The mention of Chessa’s dad only firms my resolve to speak up. He’s just one more innocent bystander who may get sucked into this mess if they don’t leave town immediately. Which is what I’m going to advise.
After I tell Chessa and Carter… the other thing.
She starts to move past me. It’s so tempting to let her go. But I can’t.
“Wait,” I say.
She stops but keeps her gaze firmly fixed forward. “What?”
“Your grandmother. She’s still in her house in Milwaukee?”I ask. There’d been talk about moving her into a facility after her last “heart scare,” but Chessa’s noted stubbornness is apparently nothing compared to her grandmother’s.
Chessa gives me an odd look. “Yes,” she says slowly. “Why?”
That should work. Or at least make them safer.
I look to Carter. My heart sinks. I have no idea where his family lives. “And you’ve got somewhere else to go?”
He frowns at me. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if the university decides to go remote for classes, I still need to work.”
“Beecher is going remote?” I ask, feeling the first bit of hope I’ve felt in a while. That would help so much. At least in terms of lowering potential body count.
“If you’re going to carry on a full-blown conversation in the middle of an intensive care waiting room, either speak up so we can all hear you or go somewhere else,” the woman on the couch with the jacket over her face says loudly, without getting up.
