Drew presses on the glass that separates us from where Nah lies in a hospital bed, his palms flat against the window, as though he could will himself into that room. He keeps saying her name, over and over. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

“Thank you,” I say.

I will be saying those words to him for the rest of my life.

Nah is alive.

She is alive because of him.

Drew knew where to find her. It is the only reason she is breathing right now.

My sister is lying in that bed, and I see her in the snow, her hair spread out over the clean cold of it.

Drew is silent.

“Drew.” I rest my hand over his. “I’m so glad she has you.”

He looks at me, eyes hollow. “I’m not. You were right about me. Everything you said, Mae. I…”

His eyes fill, and I think maybe there is nothing more lonely than seeing a boy cry. Nobody ever lets them. I like that this one can. That he does. That he cries for my sister.

“I could have stopped her. So many times. And I didn’t. Not until it was too late. I was too scared to push her away, to lose her. But I almost did anyway. I can’t believe how stupid, how selfish I’ve been. Your family’s been through so much, and … fuck. I’m so … Sorry isn’t enough. I’m so…”

I look away. Look at Nah.

I rest my forehead against the glass. All that adrenaline from the past two hours has evaporated, and now I am filled with stones and sand and gallons of seawater. You can’t reach the surface when you’re this weighed down.

“Nobody can stop her, Drew. All the books say that. You and I made the same mistake. I didn’t tell my aunt and uncle until my plan with Micah failed. I didn’t want to lose her, either.” When I sigh, the glass fogs up. “She told me to name a star after her. She was trying to tell me. And I didn’t get it.”

I didn’t work the problem. I didn’t think about the next thing that could kill me.

I would make a terrible astronaut.

“She meant it, Mae.” A tear slips down his cheek. “The amount she took. She wanted it to work. She doesn’t want to be here anymore.”

With me. She doesn’t want to be with me. I’m not enough to keep her here.

Aunt Nora and Uncle Tony trudge down the hall, looking ancient. I’m sure the hospital brings back too many memories of Annie, of the constant treatments. Of the medicine not working.

Uncle Tony’s eyes fall on Drew, and he opens his mouth, closes it. Nods at him once. “Thank you.”