Right now, I’m the guy she wants to date. Someone she finds attractive.

I just want it to stay that way.

“You gave us a scare, hon.” Mom combs her fingers through my hair and stares down at me with tortured eyes.

I hate that she’s so affected by this.

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault, son.” Dad reaches from the chair he’s sitting in to give my ankle a reassuring squeeze.

We lapse into silence—me worrying about what I’ll say to Holly if she asks where I’ve been and my parents’ thoughts a mystery.

Until my mom speaks up, “I want to talk about Holly.”

Something in her tone makes my spine stiffen. I glance between the two of them. Dad keeps his gaze on his lap while Mom has on her determined expression that she uses with difficult clients.

“What about Holly?”

“Sammy said the two of you are together. That you are dating.”

Her eyes search my face, and I get the strong sense she wants me to deny the claim.

Too bad.

“We are. She’s my girlfriend.”

Her shoulders bow inward as her fingers press the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Ben.”

“What’s wrong with that? I thought you liked Holly.”

Her reaction hurts like a knife to the chest. This is the girl I love we’re talking about, and my mom is acting like I just told her I’m dating a Nazi.

“I do like Holly. She’s a very nice girl. Honestly, I want to kiss the ground she walks on. But, Ben, we’re so close to the donation, and relationships can be messy. Emotions often cause us to make stupid decisions.”

“What are you getting at?”

“What if you two have a fight? What if you say something that rubs her the wrong way? She can back out of this at any time.” She paces at the foot of my bed. The steady click, click, click of her heels hitting the linoleum plays as background music to her worries.

“I know she can. And, if she decides to, that’s her choice. But she’s not the vengeful sort. I doubt us having a fight would affect her decision.” My reasonable tone does nothing to remove the tension from my mother’s shoulders.

“But why take that risk? This is your health, your life, that we’re talking about. You need to do every—” Her lecture is cut off by the ringing of a phone.

And thank the universe because she is starting to piss me off. Logically, I know that her words are all coming from a place of concern. But her assumptions about Holly make my girlfriend sound like an emotional flake who’s willing to toy with my fate.

Mom huffs in frustration but still reaches into her purse to retrieve the phone. Whatever name is on the screen deepens her frown, and her eyes flick to me and then away.

My stomach clenches, and I sit up straighter as she answers, “Hello, Fred. How is everything?” Despite the obvious unease on her face, my mom’s voice is still pleasant as she talks to her nephew.