Me: Me? We know the answer to that, lol. But Caleb’s going to play chef for the night, and we want you to come over.

Emily: YES! What can I bring?

Me: Cookies. Mmm, that sounds so good right now.

Emily: Consider it done, girlfriend.

My screen was interrupted again as Fiona’s name came across it, the ringtone Caleb hated so much blasting through the speaker. Rebecca would have called multiple times, too, not settling for my voice mail. When nurses needed help, we could be relentless in our pursuit.

Whenever we eventually spoke, she was going to give me so much hell for doing this, but I didn’t want to be persuaded into going back inside. And if she had any inkling that I was still at the hospital, I just knew she’d convince me to come in for a few hours.

I ignored her call, quickly scanning the cars out front again, and returned to Emily’s text.

Emily: Are you out of work?

Me: Yep, waiting for Caleb to pick me up.

Emily: My kids just arrived, and instead of taking attendance, I’m texting you. I’m totally winning the Teacher of the Year award.

Me: Get to work. Call me later when you get out.

Emily: Have a mimosa—or three—for me. XO

Me: Done. Mwah!

I was glancing up from my phone when Fiona called again. I couldn’t even confirm what she wanted because she hadn’t left a message. But I knew she wasn’t going to stop unless I answered. I was just so hesitant, knowing how weak I was when it came to my friends. I also knew how that would go over if I had to cancel on Caleb a second time in a row.

But I couldn’t keep blowing her off; that wasn’t like me at all.

I swiped my finger across the screen, held my cell to my ear, and said, “Hey, I’m just leaving—”

“Where the hell are you?” she gasped.

My chest immediately tightened from the sound of her voice, an intensity moving into my throat that set off every nerve in my body. “I’m outside the hospital. I just got off my shift—”

“Get in here right now,” she cried.

“Where?”

“The emergency department.”

“Fiona, I can’t. I’m waiting for Caleb to pick me up—”

“Whitney, listen to me. Come in here right now and fucking run!”

It felt like a fire alarm was going off inside me.

The phone fell from my face, and I didn’t pick it up when it dropped to the ground. I just pushed my feet into the pavement, swinging my arms to gain momentum, and I sprinted as fast as I could through the double doors.

As I approached the check-in area, Charlie, one of the police officers who had been working security since the bombing, said, “Hey, Whitney.”