Chapters (42)
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT PAGE
- CONTENTS
- START READING
- PLAYLIST
- PROLOGUE
- PART 1
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- PART 2
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- PREVIEW: PLAYING WITH FIRE
- PROLOGUE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
He takes my hand and squeezes it wordlessly. The answer is in his touch.
Gemma and Brad arrive at the hospital in their pajamas and matching UGG slippers. Two police officers show up as well. The policemen tell us that the truck driver who hit Dominic, a forty-year-old father of three from the Boston area, was tested sober and was not driving over the limit. That, according to witnesses, Dom collapsed from the sidewalk onto the curb just as the truck was making a right turn. Unfortunately, he not only suffered the impact of the hit but was also dragged across the pavement while the truck completed its turn.
Sarah is not out of the operating room yet. There’s no word from the other doctors working on him. It feels like we’re stuck in one of Dante’s circles of hell. Maybe in the treachery circle.
“I’m going to get everyone some coffee,” I say to the Graveses before retiring to the small cafeteria on the other side of the floor. I’m jittery and out of focus. I also want to call Dad and Renn and tell them that I love them. That I don’t take them for granted. That I’m sorry that I suck. That I’m going to suck less from now on, because it’s true. There’s no guarantee any of us are going to be here tomorrow. We have to make the best of today.
While I wait for four cups of coffee and some pastries no one is going to eat, I shoot Nora a quick message about what happened to Dom. I tell her I left Loki in his carrier in my haste. I ask if she can get him out of there and make sure his litter box is clean and that he has water and food.
She messages me right away that she is extremely sorry and horrified for me, that she and Colt are on their way to the apartment, and to keep her posted.
The woman who works at the cafeteria gives me a tray to carry the coffee and pastries. I make my way back to the waiting room slowly. There is no point in rushing. It feels like the surgeons will never get out of that room. It’s five in the morning, and we still haven’t heard anything. It scares me that I’m getting comfortable in the state of not knowing. That the limbo of being in the dark is, to me, preferable to knowing he is not going to make it.