“Great.” Again, her voice falls flat.
“You know what this is for me, Ang. I couldn’t just?—”
“Henry asked for you.” Her voice goes sharp. “At the hospital. Like I said, Mom finally told me everything. He asked Mom to call you. She said you didn’t come.”
The words lance through me. The room tilts. “I couldn’t,” I whisper. “Not then. This seminar?—”
“—is your future,” she finishes. “But this is my brother.”
I stare at the spot on my contact list where his name used to be.
“Angie…” I start.
“No,” she says, softer but no less firm. “Don’t Angie me. Tell me the truth, Tabs. What happened between you and Henry at the wedding? I know something went on. Why would he want you if it was nothing?”
Heat climbs my throat.
I could lie. I could say it was a misunderstanding, a look that meant less than it seemed. But she’s my best friend, and she’s his sister. She already knows there’s something to know.
“I don’t want to make this harder for you,” I say.
“You’re making it harder by not saying it.” A beat. “Please.”
I sigh, but I offer nothing.
“He told Dad he was driving to Boulder,” she says. “Before the accident. He was going to your apartment. He was already on his way. He just stopped at his place to check it out before making the rest of the drive down.”
Everything tilts again. Emotion coils through me, and my heart nearly stops.
He was coming after me?
No.
No, he wasn’t.
“No one told me that,” I finally say.
“I would have told you if I’d known. Now what happened?”
I can’t. I can’t bring myself to spill everything when she’s paying God knows how much for this international call. Then again, she’s loaded.
I can’t spill it because I’m not sure I can get through it without bawling.
When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. “You think staying away makes it easier?” she snaps.
Something in me wants to snap back he told me there was no future, but the words won’t come out without sounding angry and petty.
I picture her across an ocean, eyes soft and stubborn all at once. I picture Jason at her side, that patient way he looks at her like she’s the only person who ever existed.
“Tell me something honest,” she says. “Why did he call for you, Tabs? Not why you? I know why you. Why there? Why, in a bed with monitors screaming and his head stapled, did he say your name?”
I stare at my laptop, my texts, the flashcards of surgical instruments that Eli and I have already worn the corners on.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “We had some fun together. But he told me he was broken.”
Somewhere on her end, a train announcement blares. She must be getting ready to board. The world keeps moving.
“Dr. Landers is a genius,” I say, trying to get back to real life. “Blake, the TA, says my hands are good. He says I think like a surgeon.”
