I’m quietly shutting the fridge door when there’s a rustling from the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Abby’s voice is low and gravelly.

I spin around as if caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “I was . . . bringing y’all some barbeque. Annabel told me the food is terrible, and Granny always says there ain’t nothing that can’t be fixed with some good grub or a little moonshine.” I laugh to cover the fact that I’m so uncomfortable. My palms are sweating and I clutch them together in front of me.

“Aw. That’s mighty kind of you, but Fitz already got us some food earlier.”

“Oh.”

She glances at the doorway and then motions for me to come closer. When I step toward the bed, she lowers her voice like she’s telling me a secret. “I should probably tell you so you don’t embarrass yourself. Fitz and I are back together.”

I’m not surprised by this statement. Not because I believe her, but because I know Abby and I know how easily she lies. It’s all a game and she’s the one with the controller. “Oh?” I say, keeping my tone carefully neutral.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

I think she’s smiling, but it’s hard to tell because it looks sort of like a grimace with her face all swollen. “You think you know everything. So smart, so clever. You don’t know the half of it.” Her tone is laced with superiority. “I knew all it would take was a little scare to get Fitz back. He’s gonna be so worried about me and what I’ll do next, he won’t leave my side.”

The floor drops out from under me. Is she suggesting that she did intentionally drive off the road, but the ultimate goal wasn’t to harm herself, but to get Fitz back?

“That would be quite a risk,” I say carefully. “Running off the road. How did you know you wouldn’t get hurt worse?”

She waves a hand. “The shoulder was a little steeper than I anticipated. But it all worked out for the best.”

I don’t know what to say or how to respond. And it doesn’t matter because a middle-aged woman enters the room.

“You’re awake!” She’s more petite than Abby, but they have the same blonde hair and blue eyes. “And you have a visitor.” Her smile is wide. “Hello, I’m Abby’s momma, Martha.”

“Nice to meet you.”

We shake hands across Abby’s bed.

This moment is so surreal, I can’t believe I’m in a hospital meeting Abby’s momma while she lies between us, her last words hanging over my head like a dialogue box in a comic strip.

“Did you and Abby meet at school?” she asks.

I glance down at Abby, my tongue stuck in my mouth while she somehow manages to look smug despite the bruised face. I swallow and find my words. “We did. We used to live in the dorms together.”

Her head tilts at me, her brow creasing in confusion. “Used to?”