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“Okay,” he says, still sounding uncertain.
“I’ll catch you later.” My boots squeak over the shiny tile floor as I march away from him.
I’m thrilled for my brother. At least, I want to be. But every second of this visit has ripped open an old wound. Memories that I’ve spent years forcing into the dark corners of my mind bubble to the surface every time I’m in a hospital. This time, it seems worse than ever.
Once I’m finally outside, free from the antiseptic stench and endless white walls, I can finally breathe again.
The out-of-control feeling pisses me off. This is the last fucking time I do this to myself.
I’m never setting foot inside a hospital again. Not for any reason. Not ever.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Emily
It tookthe entire drive to Johnsonville to shake off the weirdness from running into Dex at the hospital. His gruff demeanor stung like hell. I keep trying to reassure myself that it had nothing to do with me. Hospitals make lots of people uneasy. Whatever the reason, I’m not reaching out to him first.
Libby’s waiting on the front steps of the school talking to a group of her friends when I pull up. She and another girl jog to the car. Libby yanks the passenger-side door open.
“Do you mind giving Linda a ride home?” she asks.
“Of course not.” I hit the button to unlock the back door and Linda throws herself across the seat. “Thank you,” she breathes out in a rush. “My mom got called into work.”
“No problem.” I turn around so I can see her face. “Do you want to come over to our place?”
“No, no. I’ll be fine. My brother’s home. He just doesn’t drive.”
“Okay.” I glance at Libby who shrugs.
The girls chatter about the play and I half-listen while I try to remember where Linda lives and forget about Dex.
“It’s up here on the right.” Linda’s hand appears in my peripheral vision. “The one on the corner. Be careful at this intersection. Someone took down the stop sign and people fly through here,” she warns.
That’s just great. Thankfully, it’s dark in both directions, no oncoming headlights illuminate the dark road, so I step on the gas. “That’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, my mom keeps calling town hall.”
I pull up to the curb and Linda throws the back door open. “Thank you, Emily! See you tomorrow, Libby!” She grabs her backpack and slams the door shut, waving wildly as she runs over the grass. I wait until she’s inside, then pull away from the curb.
“Thanks,” Libby says. “I know it’s out of our way.”
“Not a problem,” I assure her. “I’ll always give your friends a ride. You know that.” I glance over. “What was she going to do if she couldn’t find someone to drive her home?”
Libby shrugs. “Call a Lyft, I guess.”
“That could take forever out here,” I mutter.
“One of the other parents probably would’ve done it,” Libby assures me. “Anyway, I have rehearsals every night this week, except tomorrow. Saturday I’ll be there all day.”
Were school activities this much of a time commitment when I was in high school? Actually, I wouldn’t know. I never had the chance to participate in any, except for a season of field hockey my freshman year. “When will you have time for homework?”
“Emileeeee,” she groans. “Have I evernotdone my homework?”
‘No, but I don’t remember you putting this many hours into a play, either.”
“Really? I feel like they always swallow up my time.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Oh, hey, I stopped by to see Serena and the baby on the way home.”
