“It’s okay,” Ben says. “Nate told me what was happening. I saw him with your aunt and uncle on their way out. You want me to call a car? I can take you home.”

“I’m going to stay the night.”

I don’t want her to be alone. Don’t trust her. That I don’t know pulsing inside me. Ben’s favorite words, my nightmare.

He leans forward. “How can I help?”

I look away from those eyes—my mother’s eyes. Warm and brown.

“When Hannah was little—really little—she would do this thing. Play this game,” I say. “She’d pretend to be dead. I’d walk into a room and she’d be lying on the floor, eyes closed, in some twisted position. Or floating facedown in my grandparents’ pool at the Cape.” I shake my head. “I believed her every time. And I would get so upset, you know? And shake her and scream and—not cry, I couldn’t cry, but I’d really believe it. At some point she’d open her eyes or give this awful waking gasp or just get bored or whatever and she’d laugh and laugh at the look on my face.” I wrap my arms around myself, the snow from the angel’s garden deep in my bones now. “Even later, when I was pretty sure she was fooling me … I still believed her, a little. Because what if she wasn’t pretending? I was so scared that, one time, it wouldn’t be a game. That she really would be dead. And I could have saved her.”

Ben reaches across the table, but I stand, move deeper into the empty lobby with its bright colors and happy murals, meant to cheer up sick kids and their families. No amount of sunflowers or smiley faces will fix this.

Ben stands behind me, close but not touching. “I want to help, Mae. What can I do? How can I make it a little better?”

“You can’t.”

He reaches out and turns me around. “Try me.”

“Ben.” I swallow. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. You’re so strong, Mae. You’re—”

“No. I mean—this. Us.” I slide out of his grip. “My sister almost died tonight. Because I was with you. Because I missed you and I went anyway, even though I should have stayed with her, and it’s my—” I shake my head. “I know what she did isn’t my fault. But she tried to tell me. And I left her. I didn’t see. I’m too—there’s too much in my head right now. Everything’s … It’s like particle acceleration in here. I can’t right now. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. But I can’t be with you.”

Every mission requires focus. Anything that is not mission critical needs to be set aside. Ben is not mission critical. Hannah is.