Chapter 3
Finding out that Naomi knew him didn't surprise me.
Our circle was that small.
Everyone in it was tied back to everyone else somehow.
Oliver didn't even glance at her.
"You can visit, but don't stress the patient out," he said.
Janet laughed, embarrassed.
"Dr. Grant, we're family."
Oliver flipped open the chart.
"Family?" Oliver raised an eyebrow.
He looked up.
"When she was admitted the night of the accident, the family contact line was left blank."
Janet's face went red.
Naomi's tears stalled halfway, too committed to stop and too exposed to fall.
Something in me finally unclenched.
Some arguments, I learned, didn't need my voice at all.
The facts spoke, and they were louder than anything I could have said.
Janet pulled Naomi out with her.
She threw one more line over her shoulder on the way out.
"When Samuel gets here, he's going to deal with you."
Once the door shut, Oliver set the chart down.
"Are they always like this?" he asked.
I looked out the window.
"They used to be gentler about it."
He was quiet for a couple of seconds.
"Then you had a lot of patience."
I huffed a laugh.
"Do all doctors twist the knife like that?"
"Not really," he replied.
He set my medication on the nightstand.
"Only with patients who don't treat themselves like people."
I looked up at him.
He looked calm, almost indifferent.
"Lauren, the first thing you said at that scene was Samuel's name."
My fingers froze.
"And the second thing?"
Oliver looked at me.
"You said, don't bother saving me."
It felt like a weight had dropped onto my heart.
I didn't remember saying it.
I truly didn't.
Oliver said, "I don't like hearing that."
I looked at him, and suddenly, I had no idea what to say.
He turned to leave.
But just as he reached the door, he paused.
"One more thing. Good call, tossing that chowder."
I froze.
He didn't turn around.
"You're allergic."
The door closed behind him.
I stared at it while something unfamiliar ached under my ribs.
Samuel never managed to remember, even after three years of marriage.
But Oliver caught it after just a single glance at my medical chart.
That afternoon, Samuel showed up.
But this time, he didn't come alone.
He brought Naomi with him.
She kept her head down and carried a bouquet of lilies.
Lily pollen was on my allergy list, too.
Samuel set the bouquet down on the bedside table.
"Naomi insisted on apologizing in person."
I looked at the bouquet and pressed the call button.
When the nurse hurried in, I pointed at the flowers.
"Could you take those out? Thanks."
Samuel frowned.
"Seriously? What's your problem now?" he said, sounding annoyed.
"I'm allergic," I replied, flat and cold.
He froze.
Naomi's hand flew to her mouth.
"I'm so sorry, Lauren. I had no idea."
I watched her.
"Of course you wouldn't know," I said, my voice flat.
"Him not knowing is the funny part."
Samuel froze, his face awkward and tight.
Once the nurse took the flowers away, it was just the three of us left in the room.
Samuel sat down by the bed, his tone gentler.
"Lauren, I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn't have walked out."
I didn't say a word.
"I panicked at the crash and I didn't think about you," he went on. "But you can't erase three years over one thing."
I looked down at the IV taped to my hand.
"Just one thing?" I said, my voice cold and sharp.
I opened my phone's photo album.
There were a bunch of screenshots saved.
The first was from last winter, when my fever hit 103.6, and I texted him.
I sent: [Can you come home for a bit? I'm not doing great.]
He wrote back.
Samuel: [A pipe burst at Naomi's place. I'm going over to check it.]
I took a cab to the ER by myself that night and sat under an IV until three in the morning.
The second screenshot was on my birthday.
I cooked a full dinner and waited until midnight.
He posted on his feed.
In the photo, Naomi wore a paper party hat and beamed at the camera.
The caption ran under it.
Samuel: [Birthday duty for the kid.]
I left a comment: [Did you forget whose birthday it also is?]
Two hours later, he answered in a private message.
Samuel: [Don't make a scene where people can see it.]
The third was the anniversary of my mother's death.
I asked him to come to the cemetery with me.
He just said he was busy.
That same day, Naomi posted a photo at the beach.
His watch showed at the edge of the frame.
I swiped through them one at a time in front of him.
"Look at these, Samuel.
"It wasn't one thing.
"It was one after another, and I made excuses for you and reasons for her until there was nothing left of me," I said.
Samuel's face kept getting worse.
Naomi's eyes reddened. "You've got it wrong, Lauren. Sam sees me like a sister."
I looked up at her.
"Are you short on brothers?"
She froze.
"You don't have family of your own?" I said.
Her eyes turned even redder.
"Sam and I grew up together, that's all."
"So what?" I sneered.
I watched her.
"Growing up together means you get to call him over in the middle of the night after he's married?
"Growing up together means you get him on my birthday?
"Growing up together means you get to crowd me out of his line of sight while I'm bleeding in a car?"
Naomi's tears finally spilled over.
"I didn't," she choked out, her voice shaky.
"You did," I said quietly.
She lifted her head.
I turned the phone toward her.
"Your timing was always perfect.
"Every time I needed him, you turned up.
"Every step I gave up, you took.
"You never grabbed for him outright. You kept testing how far you could go."