While I had lost a leg, Layton had suffered a broken neck. His spinal cord was severed at C-5. He could breathe, speak, and swallow on his own, and maybe even have some upper-arm movement. But he’d never be able to walk or use his hands again.

Katie was holding one of those hands. It was puffy and pale. It didn’t grip her back and never would. She looked at me for a moment, then looked away.

“Did you do this?” she asked.

“He was the one driving.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

I couldn’t hold her gaze. In every world Katie knew something had changed, and that I had changed it, but she had no frame of reference to know how things were different.

Did I do this?

I could have put the blame in half a dozen places, all of which would be true. I could even have told her that Layton brought it on himself, which would also be true. But pointing fingers has never helped a situation. Blame is a Band-Aid on a broken neck.

“It’s complicated,” I told her. And she nodded. That was something she understood.

“So what changed?” she asked.

“Everything,” I told her. “We’re back where we started.”

She looked at me, incredulous at the thought. “If this is where we started, then the world’s a pretty messed-up place.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But it could be much, much worse.”

Layton’s bed, which was on a mechanical gimbal, rotated slightly, tilting him at an angle to vary his blood flow. The motion woke Layton up. He groaned and his eyes opened lazily.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Katie told him. “Ash is here, too.”

I rolled closer and tried to sit a little higher so I was in his limited line of sight.

“You’re alive,” he said, all weak and woozy. “For a while I thought I’d killed you.”

“Still kicking,” I said. “Well, kind of.”

Then his expression changed. He looked worried. “Katie . . . how come you guys are holding hands?”

“We’re not,” she told him. “It’s your hand I’m holding.” And she lifted it up so he could see it more clearly.

“Oh,” he said groggily. “Sorry. Dumb mistake.”

Then his eyes closed and he was out.

Katie’s eyes began to tear up. I gently put my hand on her shoulder, but she gently pulled away.

“I can’t,” she said. “Not now. You understand, don’t you?”

I nodded. No matter how awful your boyfriend is, you don’t walk away from him while he’s in intensive care. I knew she’d break up with him at the right time, but I also knew that “Not now” meant not ever for her and me. After what happened, all the worlds where Katie and I could be together were lost in Elsewhere.