Chapter 1

My wife lay in the hospital bed, wrapped in bandages, tears rolling down her cheeks as she demanded, "Why did you grab that woman and run during the earthquake?"

I kept peeling the apple, not even looking up.

I said, "Last year, when the cruise ship caught fire, you threw a life jacket on Louie and kicked me straight into the water.

"You didn't even pause for a second.

"So today, I didn't hesitate either."

I set the apple on the nightstand and picked up my coat.

"We're not even close to being even, Greta. Not even close."

*****

The air in the hallway of Central Hospital's inpatient wing was thick with the sharp smell of disinfectant, mixed with the metallic tang of blood and the grit of dust.

Forty-eight hours after the earthquake, the whole building still trembled with aftershocks.

I pushed open the door to Room 407. Greta Pruitt was propped up against the headboard, her left leg in a cast and suspended in the air, her forehead wrapped in gauze, and her right arm covered in scrapes.

It looked brutal, but the doctors said her insides were fine.

"Kieran!"

As soon as she saw me, tears started streaming down her face.

"You're finally here. Do you have any idea how long I was trapped under the rubble? Four whole hours!"

Her voice was hoarse, her fingers clutching the hospital sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white.

I didn't say a word. I just pulled an apple and a knife out of my bag, sat down on the stool by the window, and started peeling.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the back of my hand as the blade moved steadily along the apple's skin.

Greta's voice got louder, and she winced, accidentally tugging at her injury and letting out a sharp hiss. "Say something.

"You were right there in the living room when the earthquake hit. And the first thing you did was run over and grab that woman next door.

"You could've helped me first!"

The apple peel snapped, so I tossed the broken piece into the trash and started peeling again.

I said, my voice as flat as a weather report, "Lydia, our neighbor, is fifty-three and has trouble with her legs. Her doorframe was warped and stuck, so I just helped her out as I passed by."

"Just helped her out?" Greta's voice shot up. "You make it sound so easy. Your wife was buried under the balcony, and you just casually went to help someone else?"

I finished peeling the apple.

I sliced it into four pieces, put them on a disposable plate, and set it on her nightstand.

Then I leaned back in my chair and, for the first time since I walked in, looked straight at her.

"Greta, July 12th last year, the Starlight cruise ship in the South Seas."

The anger on her face froze in place.

"When the fire alarm went off, the deck was pure chaos," I said, my hand resting on my knee, fingers tapping slowly. "Everyone got a life jacket. You didn't even hesitate before you put yours on Louie."

"That's not the same..."

I cut her off, "Then you turned around, shoved both hands against my chest, kicked me right in the back of the knee, and sent me straight into the ocean.

"The water was 60 degrees.

"I swallowed a mouthful of it.

"By the time I made it to the buoy and looked back, Louie was wearing the life jacket you gave him, his arm wrapped around you as you climbed onto the lifeboat together."

The room fell silent, the only thing you could hear was the cart wheels rolling out in the hallway.

Greta's lips trembled, her eyes so red it looked like she could burst into tears any second. "It was an accident. Louie can't swim. I was terrified he'd drown..."

"I'm not much of a swimmer either, Greta," I said, standing up and grabbing my coat from the back of the chair. "You didn't hesitate then, and I didn't hesitate today."

I walked to the door, my hand resting on the doorknob.

"I've kept score over that life jacket for a year and three months.

"You made it out alive this time. Guess luck was on your side.

"What about next time?"

I pulled the door open.

"We're not even close to being even. Not even close."

The door clicked shut behind me. A nurse dashed past, yelling, "Aftershock in 406. Heads up!"

The whole building shook again, and the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed.

I slipped on my coat and zipped it up to my chin.

My phone buzzed.

Louie texted: [How's Greta? Need me to drop by and check on her?]

I stared at the screen for a solid three seconds.

Then I typed back: [Suit yourself.]

Then I flipped my phone over, clenched it in my hand, and strode toward the elevator.