Yes. She was fairly sure she was dying. Panic flashed, but the nothingness sucked her down again.

Sleep, wake for a few minutes, sleep, smile, squeeze Josh’s hand, sleep. She dreamed of Hawaii, swimming in the impossibly blue waters off the Nāpali Coast. She was in their honeymoon house and heard the roosters. She dreamed of holding Octavia as a newborn, and woke up to feel the baby snuggled against her, the smell of her head so welcome in the midst of the sharp and sour smells of the hospital. She stroked her niece’s cheek and was asleep again, dreaming of Octavia as a teenager, her hair so dark and beautiful, and Octavia was talking about a dance and what to wear. Sebastian was kissing her cheek and playing with her hand, in real life or in the dream. She felt a tug. Real life, then. She opened her eyes to smile at him and touch his cheek. Her arm felt as heavy as lead.

She dreamed of him as an adult, driving her to the Cape house, which was different in the dream, but the same. Pebbles was in the back of the car, and Josh was waiting for her on the deck, smiling, wearing that awful Western shirt from the Hope Center reopening. Then she was at Sarah’s wedding and forgot she was maid of honor and was trying to put on makeup as she stood on the altar. Josh washed her face with a warm cloth, and fixed things. These were all the things she’d miss, she realized. The washcloth felt so real.

She opened her eyes. Josh was washing her face. She smiled at him, oh, God, her chest hurt so much, everything hurt, her head, her skin, her bones, but seeing him felt so good. So . . . safe.

She smiled and then the darkness pulled her deeper, and it was good, it was easier there, the enveloping blackness.

She wasn’t getting better. She was getting worse.

Death sat close by. Dad? Are you here? She fell asleep before she could wait for an answer.

Awake again. Josh. Jen. Mom. Ben and Sumi. Then sleep.

The next time she woke, Dr. Bennett was there on one side, Josh on the other, stroking her hand, a blue shirt this time. “Hi, honey,” he said, and she loved his soft, deep voice so much. “We need to . . . talk.” His face spasmed with grief.

Shit. Her heart thudded painfully. She tried to squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back. Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared. Don’t let him know you’re scared.

“Lauren? Lauren, hey.” Dr. Bennett took her hand, too, which was totally not encouraging. “We lightened your sedation so we could talk. Can you hear me?”