Page 82 of Counting Down To You

“I did.”

“Why? What happened?” And in the moment before he speaks, I sense there is something I’m missing, something right on the edge of my understanding.

“It was my heart,” he murmurs.

His heart. It echoes around my mind, merging with another time someone said that to me. It’s my heart, Al.

“I…” He lowers his voice to barely a whisper. “I had a heart transplant, Ali.”

I’m still staring at him. No, I’m not. I’m shaking my head. Because this can’t be possible. I can’t know someone else—can’t be close to someone else—who needed a heart transplant. I must have heard wrong.

“I had congenital heart disease,” he continues. “I was born with it. I had some treatment as a child, and it all looked like it was okay. Definitely manageable—and I tried not to let it impact my life. Tried too hard, in fact.” The moving around, I realize. Trying to make the most of each day. Because of his heart. Because he knew, maybe, that life wasn’t guaranteed. “But a couple of years ago, there were some…complications. And last year, that meant I needed a heart transplant.”

My lips feel numb with shock, but I manage to speak. “That’s why you weren’t here—in Châtel, I mean—last year. That’s where you went.” He nods. “But you didn’t tell anyone?”

“The owners of the hotel know. And…I told Burgers.” Stuart, who had helped Leo through a difficult time. That’s the thing they bonded over—Leo needing surgery. “But, other than that, no,” Leo says. “I didn’t want anyone looking at me differently.”

“But…but you’re fine. You’re skiing. I don’t understand how…” I don’t understand how I didn’t know. How it wasn’t obvious.

“I had to take a year off, effectively.” Right. Right, I know that, because Robyn was going to have to do that. She was going to have a year to recover, after getting the heart. Then, they said, she’d be able to do things again. She’d be able to travel, go on the holidays we’d planned. Like Paris. She’d be here, with me, if she’d got that heart.

“The test I need to retake for my ski rescue,” Leo continues, “it’s a medical. They’re concerned my heart won’t stand up, so I’ve got to meet with the doctors again in January.” Which is why he was so upset about it, I realize. Because it’s a test he has no control over. It’s not the kind of test you can practice or study for.

I wet my dry lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a whisper, hard to get out over the lump in my throat. I know this isn’t the right reaction. I know I should be happy that he got the transplant, that he’s here. I am happy about that. But it’s a lot to take in. Here is someone, right in front of me, who is living the life that Robyn should have lived. Who has been given the second chance she didn’t get.

“I just thought, with Robyn…” He closes his eyes, rubs a hand over his face. “I thought it might be hard to hear.” Did I tell him how Robyn died? I must have.

He drops his hand, and when he looks at me, his expression is broken. Something twists horribly inside me, because I realize this is not it. This is not all he wanted to tell me. And something else clicks into place.

“The fundraiser,” I say out loud. “The day we met. You were going to the hospital fundraiser.” The hospital where Robyn had died. The hospital where there had been other people on the transplant list. No. No, this can’t be happening. But he is looking at me like he is waiting for me to connect all the dots. And like he’s afraid of what might happen, when I do.

“You were…” But I can’t say it. I can’t say it, because I don’t want it to be true. Dread laces my stomach.

“I was there for the fundraiser,” he confirms. Then he takes a deep breath. “But I was also going there for a check-up.”

“You…” I close my eyes as the realization floods me, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The hospital had taken good care of someone, he’d said, which is why he’d wanted to support them. Only it wasn’t just someone, was it? “You were at that hospital. For the heart transplant.”

He holds my gaze. “Yes.”

“When.” My voice is a little louder now.

“Ali…”

“When, Leo?”

I hear the answer in his hesitation. And his voice, when he speaks, is broken. “I got the transplant in November.”

November. The person at the hospital, on the list ahead of Robyn. The person who got her heart, her last shot. The person who was more compatible. It’s Leo. It’s been Leo all this time. Leo got Robyn’s heart. Leo got Robyn’s second chance.

“I’m so sorry, Ali.” His voice is broken, but I shake my head against it.

“You got Robyn’s heart.” Nausea swells as I choke out the words. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

“I did. I’m so sorry,” he says again.

My ears are ringing. This can’t be happening, I think again.

But it is.