“You’ve been so wrapped up in your own world and your mission to do whatever it is you’re trying to do that you haven’t really thought about anything or anyone else.”

I’ve never seen Katie angry before. I can’t swallow. Or talk. Or think about Adam lying in his hospital bed, clinging to life because of me. I squeeze my gut. I’m probably the last person anyone wants to see around here. “Will you text me when there’s an update?”

She blames me for everything. And she should.

I indicate the flowers I picked up from the gift shop. “And give him those?”

Katie looks from the plant to me. “It’s a poinsettia,” she says, like there’s something obvious I’m missing. “He’s Jewish.”

I fight to hold back the tears pooling along my lids. I get it, I should have thought of that. I should’ve known not to get involved, let my friends get involved. A gnawing ache in the pit of my stomach threatens to chew me from the inside out. I nod. “Please text me as soon as you hear anything new.” I’m desperate for this, to stay connected. I have to know how he’s doing—good or bad.

Looking down, Katie smooths the crumbled pages of her sketchbook, where she’s captured each detail of Adam’s face. He would love these sketches, the sheer number of them.

Katie squares the stack on her lap. “I will.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, knowing I don’t deserve it.

I turn away, ready to run down the halls, out the exit.

“Lia,” Katie says. I look over my shoulder as she tucks hair behind her ear. “Be safe.”

I grip the straps of my bag and scurry off.

Everything bad in my life happens here.

Rounding the corner, I’m about to run when I see two men, down the intersecting corridor, standing outside an open door. Dr. Marshall—I will not call him Steve—nods as Mayor Henking talks.

I duck behind the wall and press myself against it like I might collapse without its support. Why is he here? How is this possible? Has he come to kill Adam himself? I curse the quivering in my knees. My legs need to stay strong so I can run to the ICU. Throw my body over Adam’s if I have to.

I force myself to peek around the corner. The back of Mayor Henking’s dark head doesn’t move. He wears an expensive suit, tailored, likely afforded by murdering people throughout the city. “It’s a strong proposal, Steve.”

Dr. Marshall tucks his hands into his white coat, which he wears over a white shirt, blue tie. “I hope you seriously consider it. The NICU expansion would do a lot of good.”