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Covered in my best friend’s blood.

Luke spoke from behind me. “She was drunk.”

My hands balled into fists, and Shawn started to wheeze.

Sloan. I needed Kristen to get Sloan. I walked outside, praying to God that Kristen answered my call, that she hadn’t decided to ice me out again in the short time since I’d seen her. If she didn’t answer and I had to text her, I wouldn’t be able to do it. My hands shook so violently now that it was all I could do to unlock my phone and pull up her number.

It had been twenty minutes since I’d seen her. Twenty minutes that felt like a lifetime.

I pressed the phone to my ear, my hand shaking.

I wouldn’t be able to stay with him. My station had mandated staffing. I couldn’t leave until someone relieved me. I had to go back.

“Hey.” Her voice gave me the first full breath I’d taken in almost half an hour. Just knowing she was on the other end of the line grounded me. Everything that had happened between us felt years away and unimportant.

“Kristen, Brandon’s been in an accident.”

I told her everything. I knew she would take care of the rest. She was capable—she’d get Sloan to the hospital.

When I got back, Javier paced the hallway, making phone calls to cover our shifts, a finger pressed to his ear. But there were fires up north. It would be hard to find someone. We were already borrowing Luke as it was.

Shawn breathed into a paper bag with Luke crouched next to him, looking worried. “They just wheeled him off to surgery,” Luke said.

I slid down against the wall of the ER hallway as nurses and staff streamed by me. I put my palms to my eyelids and cried like a baby.

THIRTY-TWO

Kristen

I hung up with Josh, and the switch flipped in my head.

Sloan called it my velociraptor brain because it made me fierce and sharp. Something big had to trigger it, and when it did, my compulsive, laser-focused, primal side activated. The one that got me a near perfect score on my SATs and got me through college finals and Mom. The one that made me clean when I was stressed and threatened to launch into full-scale manic OCD if left unchecked—that kicked in.

Emotion drained away, the tiredness from staying up all night crying dissipated, and I became my purpose.

I didn’t do hysterics. Never had. When in crisis, I became systematic and efficient.

And the transition was now complete.

I weighed only for a second whether to call Sloan and tell her or go pick her up. I decided to pick her up. She would be too upset to drive properly, but knowing her, she would try anyway.

From Josh’s explanation of the situation, Brandon wouldn’t be out of the hospital anytime soon. Sloan wouldn’t leave Brandon, and I wouldn’t leave her. She would need things for the stay. People would need to be called. Arrangements made.

I began to compile a list in my head of things to do and things to pack as I quickly but methodically drove to Sloan’s. Phone charger, headphones, blanket, change of clothes for Sloan, toiletries, and her laptop.

It took me twenty minutes to get to her house, and I got out of my car ready for a surgical extraction.

I stood there, surrounded by the earthy smell of Sloan’s just-watered potted porch flowers. The door opened, and I took in her blissfully ignorant face one more time.

“Kristen?”

It wasn’t unusual for me to stop by. But she knew me well enough to instantly know something was wrong.

“Sloan, Brandon has been in an accident,” I said calmly. “He’s alive, but I need you to get your purse and come with me.”

I knew immediately that I’d been right to come get her instead of calling. One look at her and I knew she wouldn’t have been able to put a foot in front of the other. While I mobilized and became strong under stress, she froze and weakened.

“What? ” she breathed.