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And I know she's referencing Adam and her. She hasn't talked about it much, but her sadness is obvious.
I check my phone's screen—I'm pathetic, and have put Hunter's name into a search engine's alert system, so I'll know if anything about him is published online. Nothing new has popped up, not even news of his next tournament.
I slide my phone between my thighs and try to think of something non-Hunter-related. “I want to hear more about you and Cross.”
It's an intentional turn of phrase, because I think there's something going on, even though Suri won't spill.
She shrugs. “We've been hanging.”
I haven't had a chance to visit Cross yet, unbelievably. My first day back, Mom's rehab called and wanted me to do a discharge visit. It actually went better than they usually do. Mom looked more fit and happy than I've ever seen her. They’ve got her on a new antidepressant, and I'm trying to be positive about her recovery. I even stayed the night in one of the guest rooms at the 'spa'—where I lay awake on my little cot half the night, combing Google for news about Hunter or the investigation into Sarabelle’s death. The next day, yesterday, Cross got a visit from his father, so I couldn't visit then, either.
“I can't wait to hear how the visit with his father went,” Suri says. “I hope he wasn’t an asshole to Cross.”
“I hope so too.” I try to squash the awful curiosity about what Hunter's father said—about the governor—but I can't. So I look out the window and focus on the grass and trees.
A few minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of NVIR and I start getting butterflies. “Are you sure he doesn't mind if I come?”
It seems ridiculous asking. Cross has always been more my friend than Suri’s. But I’m struggling with the feeling that in just two weeks, Suri has taken my place.
“Of course, you silly goose. He's dying to see you and hear how your 'class trip' went.”
“Ugh. I hate having to lie to him.”
“ Are you actually going to write about it for school?” she asks as we get out of the car.
“I don't know. Maybe. Probably.”
We're quiet as we walk through the door, and there's Nanette. She's got her long brown hair pulled up into a pretty bun, and she's wearing purple scrubs. She reaches out her arms for me, and I'm kind of surprised, and kind of thrilled.
“Nanette. Long time!”
“Too long. How are you?”
“I'm good,” I say. It only feels a little like a lie.
“That's great.”
“How is Cross?”
“He's up and moving. He shaved today and he's been playing games on my cell phone. He's still having some trouble with his left hand and leg, but we’re seeing improvement in the leg.”
“Not his hand?” Suri asks.
“Not much,” Nanette says. “But we’re not anywhere near the end of his rehab.”
I tear up, because it's so amazing to hear that. Cross is awake, and he's doing rehab. Suri and I hold hands as we walk back to his room.
“Ready?” she whispers.
I nod.
She pushes the door open, and I feel like a kid at Christmas.
Cross is leaning against his bed, wearing gray scrubs and a dark blue t-shirt, which is enough to knock me off my feet. Then I see his face, and I feel like I've been punched. As soon as his eyes land on me, he looks...infuriated.
I open my mouth to say his name, but he beats me to the punch. “Suri,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Give us a minute. In fact, come back later.”
Suri looks confused. She shakes her head, and there's no mistaking the worry on her face. Cross notices it, too, and sighs. “Everything is fine. I'm doing fine,” he tells her. “I just want a minute to talk to Liz—alone.”
