I sat alone, letting her words simmer. I stared at my phone, deciding in the moment to call Naomi and beg her forgiveness. Her number was at the top of my missed calls, and my thumb hovered over her name, wondering if I’d get the reaction I hoped for or the one I deserved.

Before I pressed the button, someone knocked on the door. I opened it, expecting to see Reese. Instead, I glowered down at Peter, who stood before me, adjusting his tie.

“Hello, Zeke.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, Naomi didn’t send me, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

My shoulders sagged. “Get out of here.”

I turned, letting the door close, but Peter caught it and followed me in.

I sat in the chair, glad that Reese had cleaned up and made me shower. Peter was the last person I’d want to see me in such a shit state.

“May I sit?” Peter asked.

“No,” I said simply.

Peter stopped mid-way to the corner of the bed and stood again, nervously shifting his weight.

“You’ll change your mind once you hear what I have to say,” Peter said.

“Doubt that.”

“She loves you,” Peter said. He held up his hands and let them fall to his thighs. “I can’t deny that anymore. And I can’t deny that I love her. So … I want to help. A compromise.”

I eyed him, already suspicious.

“You know who I am, Zeke, but you’re unaware of how far my reach is or what I can do. I am the deciding vote for the Cheyenne Mountain Complex.”

“So?”

He chuckled and looked down. “Naomi really hasn’t told you anything.”

I pointed to the door. “Get out.”

He held up his hands. “Just … hear me out. You’ll be glad you did.

“The Complex is home to dozens of doctors and scientists from all over the world who are number one in their respective fields. We have Dr. Shaurya Patel. He’s the leading cardiothoracic surgeon in the world. Dr. Anna Phillips is our hematologist. We also have the leading epidemiologist, Dr. Jerusha Farooq, and the most published and experienced biophysicist in modern medicine, Dr. Andrew Cohen.” When I didn’t respond, Peter sat on the corner of the bed and clasped his hands together. “We have an entire team to treat you. Tests and trials can be completed in the Complex that can’t be done anywhere else. No constraints. No red tape. Dr. Patel and his team could heal you.”

“Heal me,” I repeated.

“I’ve spoken to Dr. Patel. It’s possible. He’s treated thirteen patients successfully to date. The treatments are tough I hear, but he feels you’re a strong candidate.”

“And how much would that cost? I’m guessing your voodoo doctors aren’t part of my insurance plan.”