It felt awful leaving him there, but he really did seem fine. The doctors had assured us it was just for an abundance of caution.

Still, instead of going back to Mattie and Giles’s, I went to Oliver’s apartment. All I wanted was to curl up in one of his sweatshirts and sleep in his bed, surrounded by his smell.

Mattie wouldn’t hear of me being alone, so she stayed there too.

I had a hard time focusing on anything except getting back to him, so she put on a movie to distract me. It was a pointless effort. Oliver’s large frame in the hospital bed was all that I could see.

When I wasn’t consumed with worrying about him, my thoughts turned to my new job. I hadn’t even worked up the courage to tell Mattie yet—Oliver was the first person I wanted to share the news with. I knew he’d be happy for me, but it also marked the end of us. It made everything feel more real—more final.

Eventually, I fell asleep with my thoughts still spinning.

Finally, when my alarm went off at seven a.m., I ripped away the covers. Giles was supposed to pick us both up and I wanted to be ready the instant he arrived. Mattie was still passed out on the couch, so I jostled her awake.

“Wake up. Is he almost here?”

Mattie groaned and stretched, before turning over and picking up her phone to check. “He’s on his way.”

I didn’t bother with makeup or brushing my hair before I rushed to the entryway and pulled on my shoes. I flung open the door and almost collided with Giles, who held a brown bag and a tray of to-go coffees.

“Ready?” he asked, but I was already brushing by him.

“He’s going to be okay, Frankie,” Mattie called, still slipping on her tennis shoes and scrambling down the stairs behind me. “They would have called if anything happened overnight.”

“I’ll feel better when I see him,” I said, pulling open the door to Giles’s truck and climbing into the back seat.

Mattie slid into the passenger side. Giles handed us both a coffee.

“Donut?” he offered, holding out the brown paper bag to me.

“I can’t eat right now.” My foot tapped furiously against the floor as Giles maneuvered the car off of Main Street and to the highway.

“I’m sorry,” Giles mumbled, shaking his head. “We should have been more careful.”

“This isn’t your fault,” I said. “Accidents happen, and Oliver was the one who was distracted.”

“Still, I was there, I should have⁠—”

“Hey,” Mattie said sternly, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing. “It isn’t your fault.”

The next few minutes passed in silence as we drove the remaining distance to the only major hospital within a twenty-mile radius.

When Giles pulled into the hospital entrance, he went straight to the main entry of the massive building. He placed a hand on the passenger seat headrest, turning his body toward me. “You go ahead, Frankie. We’ll find parking.”