Chapter 2
The next morning, as soon as my fever dropped to 100.4°F, Cameron knocked on my door.
He set a cup of milk on the table, speaking as if nothing had happened.
"Get dressed. I'll take you to the hospital," he said.
I guess this was his way of making amends.
In the past, as long as he showed even a little willingness to back down, I'd find every excuse for him.
But just as I picked up my jacket, Sophie came running out of the room next door.
She was dressed in a white cycling outfit, holding her helmet in her arms.
"Cameron," she said, "the bikes for our ride around the lake are here.
"But I had a hard time breathing last night, and Ryan said it wouldn't be safe for me to ride alone."
Cameron barely hesitated. "I'll go with you."
Only then did he seem to remember I was still in the room.
"Hailey, the hospital isn't far." He turned to me. "Get a ride there yourself."
I looked at him. "You just said you'd take me."
"Plans change." His tone was impatient. "Sophie isn't used to long rides. What if something happens to her along the way?"
Sophie immediately lowered her head. Sophie immediately lowered her head.
Even as she said she wasn't going, she didn't take off her cycling outfit. Instead, she hugged her helmet even tighter.
Ryan leaned against the doorway and urged them to hurry. "We're paying for the bikes by the hour. If we keep dragging our feet, we'll be wasting money on all three bikes."
Cameron took Sophie's helmet and fastened the strap for her. "Let's go."
Just before leaving, he looked back at me. "Text me when you're done at the hospital. I'll come pick you up after the ride."
I closed the door. "No need."
The hallway fell silent for a few seconds.
Then the three of them headed downstairs, chatting and laughing.
I went to the hospital by myself.
The doctor looked over my test results, his expression grim.
"Acute bronchitis. You went out by the lake with a high fever? Do you really not care about your health?" the doctor admonished.
I spent two hours on an IV, and my phone stayed silent.
No calls, no texts, not even a check-in.
Sophie, meanwhile, posted an update.
In the photo, she looked tired from the ride, draped over Cameron's back.
Ryan stood nearby, holding out a bottle of water, wearing a knowing smile.
The caption read: [Some people say I'm a hassle, but their actions tell a different story.]
Cameron had liked the post.
I liked it too.
Less than half a minute later, the post was gone.
Sophie texted me right away.
She wrote: [Hailey, don't get the wrong idea. I twisted my ankle, so Cameron gave me a piggyback ride.]
I didn't reply.
Back at the hotel, I went to the front desk to ask about checking out early.
After checking my room information, the receptionist suddenly remembered something and took a brown paper bag from a cabinet.
"Mr. Bennett stayed at our hotel about six months ago. He had a set of travel photos taken, but no one ever came to pick up the negatives.
"You're his girlfriend, right? You could take them back to him."
My fingers paused for a moment.
There were more than twenty photos in the paper bag.
Lake Serenity was blanketed in white in winter.
Sophie wore a red coat and a birthday hat, nestled in Cameron's arms.
Cameron bent his head to adjust her scarf, his arm naturally resting around her waist.
Ryan stood off to the side, holding a glass of champagne.
His forehead was unmarked, and his hands and feet were perfectly fine—there wasn't a single sign of injury.
The date was printed in the bottom right corner of the photo.
December 24.
The day, six months ago, when my dad had surgery.
Cameron had promised to be there for me, but early that morning, he suddenly said Ryan had gotten into a drunk-driving accident and he had to go deal with it.
Ryan even sent me a photo of his bleeding forehead.
I believed them and spent the whole night alone outside the operating room.
When my dad was wheeled out of the operating room, my legs were so weak I could barely stand. I had to brace myself against the wall to call Cameron.
He didn't answer.
Half an hour later, he finally texted back, saying the hospital was too noisy for him to hear his phone.
Only now did I realize that the photo of Ryan's injury must have been taken somewhere else.
Ryan was never in a car accident.
Cameron wasn't at the hospital with him either.
Even Sophie's claim that her grandma was sick and that she was staying at the hospital with her was a lie.
The three of them were thousands of miles away, celebrating Sophie's birthday without me.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the operating room door, I kept reassuring myself that I had people I could trust.
I put the photos back into the paper bag.
On the back of the last photo was a handwritten note from the travel photographer.
It read, "Wishing Mr. Bennett and his girlfriend a lifetime of love and countless sunsets to share."
So six months ago, even strangers thought they were a couple.
And I was the only one who didn't know.
*****
That evening, the three of them came back from their bike ride.
Sophie was riding piggyback on Cameron, her white sneakers spotless—not a single scuff in sight, as if she'd never twisted her ankle.
As soon as Ryan walked in, he started complaining that he was hungry.
I looked at him and suddenly asked, "Ryan, didn't that car accident six months ago leave a scar on your forehead?"
His smile froze for a second.
His hand instinctively went to his forehead.
"It's been healed for ages," he replied. "Why are you asking about that all of a sudden?"
"Nothing." I kept my voice calm. "It just crossed my mind."
Ryan avoided my gaze and looked down as he took off his shoes. "It wasn't even that bad. Just looked worse than it was."
Cameron walked over and interrupted us. "That was ages ago. What's there to ask about?"
Sophie slipped her arm through mine as well.
"Hailey, are you thinking about the day your dad had surgery again?" she asked. "Cameran felt really guilty about not being there for you that day."
She sounded sincere, the concern in her eyes just right.
I looked at the face I'd known for ten years and suddenly smiled. "You're right. It's all in the past now."
Back in my room, I tucked the brown paper bag into the very bottom of my suitcase.
They hadn't lied to me about one sunset.
They'd already been on the same side six months ago.
And I was the outsider they were all keeping at arm's length.