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“This is ridiculous,” he mutters.
“You carried methreeblocks back to the house to clean out the scrapes and get me an ice pack,” I say for him. “You wouldn’t let me walk, even after I said I was fine. You really think I want you being the one making major medical decisions on my behalf?”
“I’m your husband,” he growls.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Jake jabs.
I spin to face Caleb. “Well, wait a second. All three of us putyoudown as our emergency contact. Who did you write? You can’t write yourself.”
“He wrote you, of course,” says Jake. “Just promise me you’ll send me a postcard from the hospital, yeah?”
But I hold Caleb’s gaze, watching the way his jaw clenches.
“He didn’t,” says Ilmari. “He didn’t write Rachel either.”
Caleb groans, dragging a hand through his messy beach curls.
“Wait—you didn’t write Rachel?” says Jake, his tone brightening. “Oh my god, babe, did you write me? I’m your emergency contact?”
Caleb pulls his apologetic gaze from me, turning to Jake. He takes a step forward, reaching out a hand. “Babe, listen—”
“Oh, fuck no.” Jake jerks away. “Donottell me you picked Mars. I swear to fucking god, Cay.”
Caleb closes the space between them, grabbing Jake by the upper arm. “Jake, I love you—”
“Spare me,” he huffs, trying to pull away, but Caleb grips him by the other arm and steps in.
“I love you, and I love Rachel—”
“Clearly,” Jake scoffs.
“But if I’m lying in a hospital bed, I’m sorry, but I want Mars to be the one with the power to unplug me,” he goes on.
“Wait, so in this situation I’m ending your life?” Ilmari says with a horrified look on his face.
“Hey, it could happen,” Caleb replies with a shrug. “You’re the only one who will consider rationally and weigh all the evidence. These two will just demand they do everything to keep my heart beating. You’ll know when it’s time to let me go.”
“Jeeeezus,” Jake says, his face suddenly ashen. “Do you have to be so morbid about it?”
“I hate talking about bus crashes and death beds,” I echo. “It’s really freaking me out, and I was having a great day up until now.”
“So I’m no one’s emergency contact,” Jake huffs, flapping his arms. “In case of emergency, when one of the three loves of my fucking life may be in actual mortal peril, I’ll have as much right to get a phone call as Poseidon?”
Hearing his name, the dog barks again.
“I cannot believe that I’m aliteralfucking doctor, and yet not a single one of you put me down as your emergency contact,” I say.
“Guys, this isn’t a big deal,” Caleb reasons. “It’s just a name on a form—”
“Easy for you to say,” Jake snaps, trying to jerk away again. “It’syourname on all the fucking forms.”
Caleb’s dark eyes narrow on Jake, his shoulders going tense. “You know, I’m getting really fucking sick of your attitude. Mouth off me to me again, and I’ll show that mouth what it’s good for.”
Jake’s eyes go wide, anger and resentment etched on every line of his face. “Don’t youdaretry to turn me on right now. I’m really upset about this, asshole. You know how much I need to feel needed. This really hurts that none of you put my name down.”
“Jake,” I say gently, inching closer. “We love you. We don’t want to hurt you. We would never want to put you in that awful position of hearing the news first, of making you have to be the one to tell the others. We were protecting you.”
“Well it feels a lot like getting shoved to the side. Last fucking place,” he mutters.
