Page 40 of Intersect
His lips twitch. “I’m pretty sure you’re the onlyone.”
I throw my head against the pillow. I feel fine and it’s not like being in this room is going to extend my life, so I don’t want to waste what’s left of it here. “Can’t we justleave?”
“Soon,” he says, brushing the hair back from my forehead. “In the meantime, your food is on the way, and I was thinking if you’re up for it, we could go down the hall to see Darcy. She’s been asking foryou.”
“How is she today?” Iask.
A shadow crosses his face. I wonder if he can’t think about Darcy without seeing my future at the same time. “Not good, apparently,” hereplies.
We just saw her a few days ago, and she wasn’t doing great then. The possibility that she’sworsesickens me. “Let’s go see her now,” I say, squeezing his hand. “The food canwait.”
His tongue slides over his lip—his tell, the thing he does when he’s worried and thinking something through. “Okay,” he says. “Let me just get awheelchair.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need awheelchair.”
“It’s a long walk and you’ve had a heavy sedative,” he says. I open my mouth to argue and he continues. “It’s also hospital policy. So you’re getting the wheelchair. I need to make sure she’s awakeanyway.”
I love the bossy, no-bullshit doctor side of Nick. If I didn’t have about fourteen wires attached to me I’d suggest he lock the door so I could show him just how much I like it. “Fine,” I groan. “Youwin.”
He kisses my forehead. “Be rightback.”
The truth is he’s probably right. The sedative still must not be out of my system because I feel like I could sleep for days. Except each time I allow my eyes to close, I see Ryan’s coffin being lowered into the ground and the grief on Nick’s face. I remember my thoughts and my guilt, but I have no memory of actually time traveling. I just see two different experiences that occurred on the same night—one in which Ryan kisses me at a party, and another in which Ryandies.
Am I really going to admit any of this to Nick? Am I really going to tell him that the version of Ryan’s death he remembers is a result of the version I was responsible for? I can’t. But I hate that he’s hinting he loves me when he has no idea who I am and what I may have done.Nick is going to make me do a bad thing, I told the psychologist. Was Ryan’s death thatthing?
A searing pain in my arm sends my thoughts scattering. My eyes open and go first to the needle pressed into my skin before jumping to the person who wieldsit.
I suck in air, begin drowning in panic before I can callout.
It’s a face I’ve seen in a thousand nightmares, always with that long blond braid hanging down her shoulder. She has the face of an angel, but she couldn’t be further from it. Words I mean to say stumble over my lips and vanish. The drug…it’s slipping through my veins like a heavy blanket, smothering my ability toreact.
She smiles. Sweetly, as if she actually cares about me. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel athing.”
My arms hang limply against my sides, refusing my commands to move as she pulls down the saline dripping into my IV and hangs an identical bag in its place. She speaks again, but I can no longer hear what she says. The fluid from the IV is so cold it seems to burn. And then everything goesblack.
19
NICK
Darcy is asleep. Maybe it’s for the best…as soon as I suggested a visit it occurred to me Quinn might see herself in Darcy’s pale face, in the way she now struggles to form words and falls asleep mid-speech. She’s gotten so much worse since that Connect Four tournament just a few daysago.
Since I’m here, I do a quick check of her vitals. Her blood pressure is low. I take a subtle look at her hands, examining their pallor, looking for the hint of blue beneath the nails that means the end is near. Nothing yet, but soon there willbe.
I glance at Christy. “If there’s any way her father can be transported, I think he might want to get heresoon.”
She blinks away tears. I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t know, but it’s no less hard to hear. “He’s still in bad shape. They think it’s another week at least,” she whispers. “How’sQuinn?”
I close my eyes. “Notgood.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Misery may love company but there’s little solace in it for me. “I know it’s wrong,” she finally says, her voice rough, “but it makes me glad they’ll be together, her and Darcy. I know Quinn will look afterher.”
I flinch. I’m not at a point where I can discuss what happens to Quinn after she’s gone, but even if I were, I wouldn’t picture what Christy does—a heaven of clouds and harps and people walking hand in hand. She imagines Quinn taking Darcy to some heavenly zoo, buying her ice cream, tucking her in at night. I envy her belief, but I’m unable to shareit.
Quinn has to survive. No other option isacceptable.
The halls are quiet as I head back, typical for a Sunday afternoon. A nurse is in Quinn’s room when I push open the door, shaking down her saline as if she wants it to run faster, though the fluids were fine when Ileft.
I step inside. “Was there something wrong with the…” I begin, my words trailing off when I see herface.