“We’ll know more soon,” I say, the nasal cannula pumping oxygen straight into my nose, lifting and falling with the movement of my mouth.
A phone buzzes, and Lou pulls hers out of the small purse slung over her shoulder. She glances at the screen, quickly types something out, then shoves it back away. “I have to go take care of something real quick,” she says, looking reluctant.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, joking feebly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
She blinks a few times but nods. “I’ll be right back.”
My mom stands up to take her place at my side, across from Talia. “I’m so grateful you were there with her, Tal. If you hadn’t been—I don’t even want to think about what might have...” She gets choked up and has to stop.
Someone I haven’t seen before strides into the bay. “Hi, my name’s Diego. I’m here to transport Olivia up to echo,” he announces. After cross-checking the name band on my wrist with his chart and connecting my nasal cannula to a portable oxygen tank, he unlocks the wheels of my gurney. “You canboth wait here. I’ll bring her back after we finish. It’ll probably be about a half hour.”
My mom leans over to press a kiss against my temple, and Talia clasps my hand tighter before letting go.
He’s wheeling me through the ER hallways toward imaging when I hear a familiar voice somewhere nearby. I strain to make out the words. Then, when a second familiar voice joins the first—here,in person—my heart lurches, another sharp pain shooting through my chest.
“Wait—stop.” I reach out and grab Diego’s arm.
He jerks the bed to a halt. “What is it? Are you okay? Do I need to page a doctor?”
“No. Just—wait a second.” I struggle to hear what they’re saying over his voice.
“It is always going to hurt that Lyla is gone,” Lou is saying. “I know you wish you could change what happened to her. But because of that tragedy, one of the best people I know got to live!”
“You think I don’tknowall this?” The words scrape out of Hunter’s throat.
My breath snags as another stabbing pain hits me beneath my ribs—but this one isn’t from an arrhythmia.
“You came here because you didn’t know how bad it was. Shouldn’t that tell you something? What if somethingdoeshappen to her, and you never told her the truth?”
“Of course I’ve thought about that!”
“Thendosomething about it—go to her!”
“I ... I can’t. You have no idea what I’m going through—how much thishurts,” Hunter rasps.
“Olivia, are you okay?” Diego looks a little pale beneath his olive complexion. “I’m going to page the—”
“No,” I cut him off. I’ve heard enough. The ache of knowing Hunter came—that he’s here, within hearing distance—but didn’t come to actuallyseeme is worse than the agony that sent me here in the first place. “I’m sorry. I needed to catch my breath. We can keep going.”
But instead of continuing on straight, Diego pushes the gurney around a corner, and suddenly, I’m face-to-face with Lou and Hunter frowning at each other—until they step out of the way and see it’s me lying on the bed.
I can’t even draw breath when Hunter’s red-rimmed eyes meet mine. I blink to clear my vision—I need to see him without obstruction.
Hunter stares at me, lying on the bed, on oxygen, most likely pale, lips rimmed with blue, hooked up to all sorts of machines and IVs. His jaw clenches. He looks tortured, like he hasn’t slept, his eyes shadowed by deep-purple bruises and his jaw lined with scruff.
“Hunter ...” I whisper, lifting trembling fingers toward him.
He shakes his head and backs away, eyes glistening, the green in his hazel irises more prominent than I’ve ever seen. “I’m sorry,” he says, low and anguished. Then he turns and strides away, leaving Lou standing there, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed in defeat.
Neither of us says anything.
There’s nothingtosay.
Diego wheels me away.
About thirty minutes later, I’ve been taken back to the trauma bay where my mom, Talia, and Lou wait, along withCameron, who apparently showed up while I was having the echo done.
“I’m not going to miss being here for you—not this time,” Cameron says when he comes over to give me a hug. I squeeze him back as tightly as I can.
