‘That’s OK.’ I mustered a smile. I pulled my sneakers back on and tugged my sweater down. ‘I . . . I had fun tonight. Thanks.’

I reached for the door handle.

‘I’ll call you,’ Ethan said, catching my hand and pressing a kiss into my palm. ‘I have a meeting tomorrow, but we could go out Friday night. And I’ll come by the diner, try and catch you on your lunch break.’

I paused. I hadn’t been thinking about the future, only tonight. ‘Ethan . . .’ I started. ‘Just because we hung out this one time—’

‘I know, I know, you’re leaving.’ Ethan cut me off. He flashed me a grin. ‘But you said, you had fun, right? So let’s have fun again.’

I wavered, still feeling the breathless shiver of attraction in my bloodstream. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.’

‘I’ll call you.’ Ethan released my hand. ‘Tomorrow. It’s a date.’

‘It’s a maybe,’ I warned him, climbing down.

‘You can play hard to get all you like,’ Ethan joked through the open window. ‘But I know your secret.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I smiled, amused by his confidence. ‘What’s that?’

‘You want me.’ Ethan winked, gunning the engine and driving away, leaving me alone on the dark sidewalk. I watched him go, headlights disappearing into the black night, until there was nothing but the sound of crickets and the glow from the security light at the Mayhews’, one house down, and my own heart, beating just a little faster in my chest.

I turned and slowly walked up the path to my front porch, letting the laughter and fun of the evening dissolve into the crisp night air. I paused, listening through the door. Every time I turned the key in the lock now, it was a question. What would I find on the other side?

Tonight, it was silence again. I exhaled the small breath of hope and closed the door behind me, heading straight upstairs to my room. There was a pale strip of light shining from under Mom’s door, but I didn’t stop. I knew it would just be the lamp I’d left on for her. She hadn’t even got out of bed to turn it off before she went to sleep.

I went to my room, closing the door tight behind me, but I couldn’t stop the chill creeping around my shoulders. What would happen when I wasn’t there to switch her lights on and off, fix her dinner, and coax her into the shower?

My phone buzzed. I checked the message. Ethan.

Sweet dreams xo

I hugged my phone to my chest. One more date. Where was the harm in that?

‘Honey, I need to take a look at you now, is that OK?’

The brassy, middle-aged nurse looks familiar, but they all do; faces from around town and the hospital, all those days I waited here for a ride after school, and then, later, the appointments with Mom slumped, glassy-eyed beside me.

Now I’m the unresponsive one, wordless, looking down the corridor they took him last. I can still see his body, terrifyingly still in the midst of all the chaos. Splayed, unmoving on the gurney, his eyes shut and his limbs draped like a broken doll; his chest burned red from the electric shocks, gauze wadded bloody against his wound.

They hustled him away, through the swing of the double doors, and suddenly, I was left in the hallway surrounded by the litter of bandages and medical wrappers, and the pools of blood, smeared red on the yellow linoleum floor.

Blood in the hospital, blood at the house. Blood soaked through my T-shirt, sticky on my hands. I don’t know how he’s still alive when it’s all over me, everything inside him draining out.

Gone.

‘Can you hear me, Chloe?’

‘She’s in shock.’ The other, younger, nurse speaks up, cinching a strap tight around my upper arm and pressing to inflate it. ‘Poor girl, hasn’t said a word since they came in.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘Surgery,’ she replies, clucking through her teeth. ‘Stab wound tore clear through his gut, it’s a wonder he didn’t bleed out.’

‘Jasmine! Not in front of her!’ There’s a disapproving hiss and then the older nurse pats my shoulder gently. ‘There, there, honey, they’re doing their best to help him. He’s going to be just fine.’

They’re silent after that, busy checking me over: fussing over the long cut on my arm, the bruises like a dark necklace at my throat. I sit quietly, barely flinching, even when the sting of alcohol hits my open wounds. They patch on bandages and dab the blood from my face. Then, at last, they take their hands from my body and I can breathe deep again.

Air rasps in my throat and I double over, choking.

‘You got a lot of smoke back there. Take this a moment.’ Jasmine straps another oxygen mask over my face. I accept, relief as sharp as the crisp, clean air that circles through my lungs. I focus on my breathing, in and out, the bright lights stinging my swollen eyes as the women move a couple of steps over and scribble on my chart.

‘We’ll be needing photos of the bruises,’ the older nurse murmurs, but not too quiet for me to hear. ‘All her injuries, for the police.’

‘What do you think happened?’ Jasmine’s voice is hushed with speculation. ‘It was that Reznick boy, I saw them wheel him in.’

‘Which one?’

‘That’s right, they’re brothers. I don’t know his name.’

‘I’ve seen them over at the bar over in Portsdale.’

‘Drinking?’

‘Mmmhmm.’

‘Well . . . ’

‘Poor girl. She’s just a tiny thing, too.’

‘You heard what happened with her mama?’

I strain to listen, but another orderly comes past, asking about the chart for another patient, and my life is quickly forgotten.

‘Is there anyone we can call for you?’ The older nurse returns, lifting the oxygen mask away and offering me a paper cup of water.

I take it with shaking hands, but I don’t make a sound.

‘It’s OK, honey, it’s over now,’ she adds warmly. She doesn’t know the half of it. She can’t imagine the truth. ‘You’re safe now. Everything will be alright.’

I ignore her, watching the bustle of chaos around me: firefighters and the sheriff’s department, patients and staff. I look for clues in their expression, a hint of what’s to come.

What are they thinking? What have they found?

I watch them, and wonder if I’ll ever be safe again.

I woke with a new determined energy. Today would be different; it had to be. I would be gone soon and Mom would be left here alone. I had to know she could function without me, that she could get up and go to work, and live her life the way she used to. She’d been using sick leave and personal days at work, but they wouldn’t last much longer. Time was running out, for both of us.