"Is that how you ended up here? Treating your blood sugar like it's a fad?" I ask, my real feelings surfacing even quicker than I thought.
"Tess, listen—"
"No, Jo, you listen." Something in me snaps. "How many times have we had this conversation? How many close calls? Do you think this disease is just something you don't have to deal with? Something you can just ignore?"
"Of course not," she whispers.
I don't sit—I can't. My heart pounds, and a red hot heat flushes every surface of my body. "This can kill you, Jo. Do you get that? You think it's a joke, but—"
"I don't think it's a joke."
I huff out a laugh, eyes tipping toward the ceiling. "You could've fooled me."
I pace the length of her bed, up and down, attempting to outrun the worry, frustration, and adrenaline clawing through me—over all of it. "I knew this was going to happen. I've told you over and over."
Up and down.
I scoff, crossing my arms and continuing to walk the length of the mattress. My voice trails off as my words grow quieter, and my anxiety boils higher in my belly.
"Today of all days," I continue.
Up and down.
"Today was supposed to be big," I mutter.
Up and down.
"Liam and I… we were gonna tell Ruthie that we want to be…"
I hit my leg on the metal frame of her bed, and a silence I'm not used to when I'm talking to my sister stops me cold.
Jo isn't arguing or sighing dramatically. She's pale, swaddled in a baby blue, hospital-grade blanket, her arm hooked up to tubes, her eyes glued to the chipped black polish on her fingers, and her jaw is working as she fights back tears I haven't seen since she was a kid.
I sigh, swallowing my concern—for her. For everything. "What happened?" I ask, finally easing into the seat. I sit forward so my forearms rest on the mattress.
She blows a heavy breath through her lips then slowly brings her gaze to meet mine. "I didn't eat much last night and… I still took my insulin."
"Jo…"
"I know." She lifts her hands in surrender. "But I spent my whole day on the phone with insurance trying to rush a preapproval for an insulin pump, and when I was done, I still had to pack and get all the way here. I just—I had too much going on. I wasn't thinking."
She looks at me, searching for a reaction.
"I know I suck at this, Tess," she adds quietly. "But it's all still so new. And it's a lot on top of everything else."
"I get that," I say, nodding as I place my hand on her wrist. "We just have to figure out how to make it easier."
"Well, that's what I was trying to do with insurance."
"I'm proud of you for that."
She huffs. "Well, don't be. They say I have to be covered when the procedure actually happens. And I'll be off Dad's insurance in like… a month."
I sigh, knowing how far out these procedures are scheduled. "We'll figure something out."
She smiles softly, her lips parting to speak—when there's a knock at the door.
"Can I come in?"
