Chances for chivalry and swoon-worthy heroism are sorely lacking these days. But maybe that’s a good thing.

Sometimes, it amazes me—Ashe’s life. He’s never known poverty, grief, or illness. He’s never had to find a job or question whether he’d go to college. He’s got more stamps in his passport than anyone I know (our honeymoon will be my first). Even in high school, good grades and popularity came easily to him. It’s one of the things I love about him—his pristine life. It’s shiny and hopeful like the sun peeking out from behind rain clouds. Ashe has never known a truly bad day.

Until now.

The ambulance blares its sirens again, and the vehicle shifts to the right. My body starts to relax, as if it’s forgotten the word surgery or the clamp poking my gut. The numbing effect overtakes me—I don’t like how out-of-control this feels.

The ambulance slides to a squeaking stop, and chaos ensues. Doors swing open. The gurney is pulled out, and a team meets us. Hurried words are exchanged—I can’t keep up. But Grady hops out with me and doesn’t let go of my hand, as if crashing into each other has affixed us permanently.

What a funny thought—but true, regardless. He and I will always share this memory and our unique before-and-afters of the crash. We may be strangers. We may never speak again. But we will always have this.

I hear Mr. Frisk’s monotone voice over the PA system, reporting that ferns are buy one, get one this week at Sunny’s, but I know I’m not there. My thoughts drift to strange places, strange, even for me.

Playing The Game of Life by candlelight, Mom telling me that the power company messed up, again, (it took over ten years for me to learn that electric companies don’t make mistakes), and her joyfully choosing the life path over the family path. She’d also complained about being forced to get married. Though I agree with her now, her statement felt bitter when I was twelve.

“Don’t you want a bigger family?” I asked her.

“That just means more people to disappoint you.”

Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, bringing me back to Grady as he hovers over me, and I sputter, “I thought I’d get a family today.”

“Eh, they’re overrated. Trust me,” he quips with a weak shrug.

His words mesh with Mom’s, and my internal light blinks before going dark.

3. Grady

CHAPTER THREE

Grady

The nurse stops me from entering through the wide double doors leading to the surgical department. Marina’s hand slips from mine like warm water.