Page 86
“Aster, just—”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Please.”
Molly drew in a frustrated breath of her own, allowed him a few more paces, and then decided that if anyone deserved to have a meltdown in a public place after that news, it was her.
“If you’re thinking what I think you are,” she said with a finality that conveyed she would not be quieted again. “We don’t need your parents’ money to pay for more testing.”
Aster stopped pacing. “We could find you different doctors. Better ones. Maybe something out of state for a second opinion. Something.”
“Out of state and probably out of our coverage network too. I don’t—I don’t deserve any special treatment. No more than anyone else would receive. My doctors are taking care of me here.”
“I wholeheartedly disagree with all of that.” His shoulders fell as he finally turned, slumping into the chair beside her. “But I know you don’t want special treatment. And I’ve actually—well, I’ve already looked into some second opinions, and there don’t seem to be a lot of alternatives. I just—I needed a minute to be angry. My pride took a beating in there.”
“If you had the money,” Molly began, a momentary curiosity distracting her from the finality of what felt very much like defeat. “You’d use it anyway, wouldn’t you? Even if I didn’t want special treatment?”
He had his hand in a fist again, bouncing up and down on the arm of his chair. Even through his anger, he arched a brow.
“You really want me to answer that?”
“I suppose not,” she admitted. “I think I know.”
He unfurled his fist and reached for her hand. “No point arguing about my theoretical betrayal of your wishes. We’re certainly not in a position to privately fund a hospital at the moment.”
“And in case it needs to be said, none of your friends will be funding it either.” From the way Aster’s expression quickly cycled from thoughtful to frustrated, it was clear he hadn’t yet considered that option but might have if Molly hadn’t preempted him.
“They’re giving up,” Molly said to Aster’s ongoing quiet.
“That doesn’t mean we are.”
Maybe they needed to. Maybe Molly already had.
“Thank you for coming with me today,” she told him instead of voicing her treacherous thoughts.
His response sounded wholly obligatory. “I could have handled myself better.”
Molly laughed. At least he’d admitted as much, sincere or not. She leaned her head to his shoulder. If nothing else, she was so grateful that he was here next to her. She wasn’t sure she could have survived it by herself.
This was where the last of Molly’s hope died, sitting by his side.
It tasted like rot at the base of her throat, a long-dead thing she only now had the courage to acknowledge. And terrible as accepting it was, it was the only way to move forward.
Before
“Imagine running into you here.”
Molly nearly jumped out of her own skin at the sound of Bishop’s drawl.
In her periphery, she watched as he kicked off the wall he’d been leaning against, loitering outside the academic affairs office for what was surely a nefarious reason. She mentally braced herself for whatever inconvenience he was about to foist upon her as he matched her pace.
“Are you following me? Don’t you have better things to do with your time? Like inventory your tiepins or something?”
“Please, that’s a job for the help.”
Molly scoffed, engaging in a power walk.
“Were you turning in your petition to run for class president?” Bishop asked.
“Why do you care?”
