TESSA
Eli: How are you feeling?
Me: Fine. Thanks for being there yesterday.
Eli: Need anything? I make a mean chicken soup.
Me: I’m good. Though … did I leave my pink work binder at your place?
Eli: Yeah. Want me to bring it to the hospital?
Me: Being discharged today. Could you drop it at my place? Under the mat if I’m not home.
Eli: Work. Always work with you, Tess.
Me: Don’t start.
Eli: You scared the hell out of me yesterday.
Me: Just a fainting spell. *eye roll emoji* Add it to my list of stellar life choices.
The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
Eli: Your mom’s wrong, you know. About having to choose between your career and … everything else.
I stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Me: Can we not do this right now?
Eli: Sorry. It’s just … seeing you like that … I keep thinking about all the things I should’ve said.
Me: Eli …
Eli: Just know I’m here. For whatever you need. Even if it’s just someone to bring you more color-coded binders.
20
TESSA
“Morning,” I called out as Blake strode into my hospital room, the early morning sun dappling through the window.
My half-eaten breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast sat, forgotten, on the tray beside my bed. The dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept, and the manila envelope in his hand made my stomach clench.
“What is it?” I sat up straighter, my gaze fixed on the envelope. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
His silence spoke volumes. When Blake Morrison was at a loss for words? That never spelled anything good. My throat became unimaginably drier as I watched him stride across the room and sit on the edge of my bed, the weight of his unspoken words feathering across my skin.
“Your test results,” he started, then methodically recounted everything he’d run, all the doctors he’d consulted with at the hospital to ensure he hadn’t missed anything.
That’s when I realized where this was going.
“It all came back normal,” I spat, though my anger wasn’t directed at him. It was at my body. My biggest traitor, systematically attacking me physically, mentally, and emotionally, skilled at hiding all evidence from medical experts.
“I’m sorry,” Blake managed.
“Don’t be.” I wiped away a tear I hadn’t realized was there. “I don’t know why I got my hopes up for a hot second that this time would be any different.”
Maybe because my heart stopped. You would think that if your heart literally stopped beating, there would be a trace of some goddamned explanation for it lingering in your body for them to find. But nope.
