“I thought so at the time. She got me into shelter medicine before she called things off. Then I met my ex, Hannah, but—I don’t know. I think I went in to shelter medicine partly to spite Thao.”

“Your professor?”

“Yeah. Toward the end she told me I wasn’t cut out for it. Turns out she was right.”

“You couldn’t have known that, though.”

“Couldn’t I? Come on, didn’t you have at least one professor who warned you shelter medicine wasn’t for everyone?”

Morgan rocked back in her chair to evade the question.

“Anyway,” Emilia continued, “I don’t even know if I want to practice anymore.”

“Did something happen? If you don’t mind me asking.” Just because she thought she could guess didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear the truth from Emilia herself.

“No, it’s okay. And probably better that you know.” Emilia’s mouth twisted bitterly. “I’d been having a hard time for a while. Everything I did was either euthanasia or duct tape doctoring. None of the shelters ever had enough money to actually treat their patients. I just wanted to practice actual medicine once in a while, you know? Then Dad died, and I just . . .” she trailed off.

“I’m so sorry, Emilia.”

“Hannah left me while I was in a treatment facility.”

“That’s shitty.” It was more than shitty. Morgan wondered how hard it would be to find out where this Hannah lived.

“Yeah. She’s not a bad person, just incapable of understanding human weakness.”

“You sure that doesn’t make her a bad person?” She wanted to reach out to comfort Emilia, but that half-feral edge had returned to Emilia’s eyes, and Morgan worried she might bolt if she touched her.

“It’s how she does what she does, I think. She’s in shelter medicine, too. Nothing gets to her. I thought I was like that, too.”

“I’m glad you’re not.” Morgan hated losing patients. That was part of what kept her on call night after night, and part of the reason, ultimately, that Kate had left her.

“Basically, what I’m saying is that your first impression of me was pretty accurate.”

“Angry and wet?”

“Drowning.”

“Hey.” Morgan couldn’t stop herself from cupping Emilia’s face in her hand. “You’re not drowning. You patched your boat, remember? And you’re alive.”

Emilia leaned her cheek against Morgan’s hand. “Alive.”

“Sometimes staying alive is the bravest thing you can do,” said Morgan, thinking of the colleagues who had lost that fight.

“You’re a good friend, Morgan.”

Friend. She smiled past the pain that word caused and gently withdrew her hand.