Lou and I share a look, and I try not to burst out laughing—and hope she can’t see how furiously I’m blushing.
“I’m seriously so glad you and my cousin actuallyarehitting it off. But this part of it is so,soweird.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” I bend over to take off the heels—my feet are killing me.
“We’ll talk tomorrow when he’snoteavesdropping?”
There’s a low groan from downstairs. We both try not to laugh.
“Of course,” I promise.
She gives me a brief but tight hug and then retreats into her room.
I glance down the stairs to see Hunter leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.
“Subtle,” I say, and he laughs again, a low, deep sound that I somehowfeelthrumming through me. I want to race back down the stairs and jump into his arms.
“I’ll wait down here until you’re done getting ready.”
He’s so thoughtful it makes me ache. “Good night, Hunter.”
“Good night, Liv.”
I go into my room, set my heels down, and walk over to my dresser, pressing my fingers over my flushed cheeks, meeting the reflection of my bright eyes in the mirror.
I’m in this ... with you.
I can’t stop smiling—until I notice the bottles of immunosuppressants in the corner of my peripheral vision.
The high of my date with Hunter, with all his admissions and the dancing and the kissing—oh, thekissing—comes crashing down at the stark reminder of reality. He’s been hurt—badly.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply.You willnotget scared, Olivia Karlsson. You are healthy. You are a miracle. And you are in this too.
I take off my dress, carefully hang it in the closet, put on some sweats, and sneak into the bathroom when I’m sure the coast is clear to wash my face, brush my teeth, and get a cup of water to take back to my room.
I dump the pills that help keep me from rejecting my heart into the palm of my hand and stare at them for several long seconds.
“Just keep working, okay? I need to stay alive.”
I know it probably means I’m crazy that I’m whispering to my meds, but I’m not sure I care. I mean every word. I need to find out wherethisis going with Hunter.
And to do that, I need to stay alive.
Which I fully intend to do—as long as I possibly can.
26.
When I walk in the door to Farmor’s house, the smell of Swedish meatballs and mashed potatoes envelops me—and not the IKEA kind. Thereal, made-from-three-different-meats-and-a-bunch-of-spices, rolled-by-hand meatballs that Farmor has been making my entire life. Except tonight, it’s my mom making them.
“Livarooni is here!” one of my brothers crows from within the house.
I roll my eyes as I set my bag and keys down and head into the kitchen, where my mom is finishing a salad.
The boys are already seated at the table, huge and hulking and grinning at me.
“Liv, can you help me carry this salad out?”
I go over and take the bowl from her. Within a few minutes, all the food is on the table, and we’ve taken our seats. After Cameron says a blessing, we dig in.
