“Holly,” I correct her.

Victoria Gerhard lets a smile trace over her serious face. “Holly. I just wanted … I needed …” She huffs out a frustrated sigh, and I get the impression that this is a woman who normally knows exactly what to say. “What you’re doing for my son … thank you.” She gives my hand a soft squeeze before releasing me and hurrying after her departing husband.

I stand still for a moment, recognizing in her a reflection of my own gratitude. If Fred were in this room with us, I would have bruised his ribs from my death-grip hug.

When I go to turn to the desk, I’m stopped again, this time by a gentle brush on my arm. I glance back to see Ben, his cheeks turning faintly red.

Would his skin be hot to the touch if I pressed my fingers there?

Stop thinking about touching the guy’s face. His face is off-limits.

“Sorry about my mom. She can be a bit intense at times, but she means well.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I totally get it. You’re her son, and she’s just happy that you’re going to be healthy again. And, believe me, having a mom like yours is nothing you should ever be sorry for.”

At his quizzical look, I realize that I’m babbling and tripping close to a topic I don’t even like talking to my brother about. Good time to cut and run.

“Nice meeting you, Ben. I’ll see you around campus.”

“Yeah, see you.”

I hear his response as I briskly walk away, front desk in sight.

Do not look over your shoulder. Do not look over your shoulder.

The internal mantra is useless. When the office door creaks open, my eyes flit toward the sound, finding Ben Gerhard paused in the doorway. As if waiting to get my attention again, he grins and waves, and then he finally walks out of my sight. Marcus sits in a chair by the door, waiting for me to schedule my appointments, so we can head out.

I love spending time with my brother. But, today, there’s a tug of regret that he’s the one I’m leaving this office with instead of a bespectacled man with a propensity for staring.

2

BEN

When I get home from the doctor’s office, only one of my two roommates is around.

“You said Holly Foster? Wait, does she have short brown hair? Cute face? Nice ass?” Jasper asks while his eyes stay locked on the TV. He bought some new video game that’s been taking up an unhealthy amount of his free time.

“Dude, that’s my donor you’re talking about … but yeah. Do you know her?”

He pauses his game, and I’m the lucky receiver of his full attention. “I think she’s the Holly in my digital marketing class. You said she’s an econ major, right?”

I nod.

“Well then, I think I know your donor.”

“That’s crazy. You have a fucking class with her? What’s she like?” I sit down heavy on the chair across from him. Lately, my body seems to tire out quickly, and when I get tired, I get cranky. I never used to be this weak.