Casey tries to figure out what’s happening between the two of us. “What did she say, Grace?”

“Nothing.”

“Grace.” The pleading in his voice is sharp and painful.

“Fine.” Grace takes a deep breath, and she immediately starts gasping for air again. “Logan says you should stay here. She’ll keep watch at the infirmary today.”

Casey’s breath hitches. “I couldn’t let you…”

“Think about it,” Emerson says, with a dark look in Grace’s direction. They’ve knelt next to the vegetable beds and are pulling out stray weeds with their unbroken arm. “It may be the only place we could safely go while we wait out if any of us—if anyone else picked up the plague. If we’re infected—or infectious—it’s not like Leah or Xavier would care, right?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes find mine, and they’re so full of doubt and uncertainty. “I don’t know if they can be infected again. I don’t know if they’re still infectious. I don’t know if they’re strong enough. Are you willing to risk it?”

That’s one of the main reasons why he always kept me—and all of us—out. This disease has always been too serious to gamble on a what-if. Am I willing to risk it? We need each other, now more than ever.

“You don’t know if they’re still infectious?” Emerson shakes their head. “After two months? Be reasonable, Case.”

“He’s right,” Grace croaks.

“He’s not, but even if he was, it’s the same risk we already took when we went into town,” Emerson says. “We won’t leave you here to die, Grace. Not alone.”

“Please.” Casey’s plea isn’t directed at Grace but at me, and I take that as all the permission I’ll need.

I nod at him. I nod at Grace. I don’t know what else to say but simply, “Thank you,” and with that, I run.

* * *

I hesitate in front of the infirmary door. I’ve wanted to go in here countless times. Some sleepless nights, I made plans to steal in to see Leah. Other times I hoped I would fall ill too, just to be with her. I tried to convince Casey to let me in approximately ninety-seven times, and while I understand why he said no every time, I didn’t like it. I even stopped asking for a while, when she began resting easier, because I was terrified to somehow jinx it. I collected glances and moments, from the door opening, through the window, through the letter that Casey read to her. I saw her blink. I saw her seize. I saw her sip from a cup of water Casey held for her.

But now I’m here. I’m finally here.

I take a deep breath, flatten my fingers along my leg, and immediately start tapping again.

I push the door open.

The infirmary is one of the brightest rooms in the building, with light filtering in through the window and white sheets on the beds. Or off-white. They’ve been washed and cleaned of blood too many times to count. Casey has food and water set up on the nurse’s desk, and next to it lies one of the torn-up books from our little library. It’s dog-eared and dirty, and he’s used a pencil as bookmark.