Before we were chased through the woods and across the highway, Daniel asked me to tell everyone I could about the things he’d told me. And, as I waited to be updated on his condition, I did just that.

The first person I told about my real father, Michael Becker, was the woman who nearly ran over our attacker.

The attacker had exited the black Mercedes to chase Daniel and me across the parkway. Luckily, nearly being spread across the highway like butter on toast had scared him off, and he didn’t attempt to pursue us or attack the woman who nearly killed him. He fled the scene, but not before he had let off two gunshots, one of which ripped through Daniel’s flesh and bone.

The second person I told was Officer Henley, who was the first to arrive at the scene.

Then, I told the medics who worked to stabilize Daniel as they slid him into the back of the ambulance.

When I arrived at Bronx-Lebanon hospital in the back of Officer Henley’s cruiser, I rushed inside and told the triage nurse, who had been told they were bringing me in to be treated for possible shock.

I wasn’t in shock. I was determined not to let Daniel down.

I wanted to be angry at Daniel for deceiving me. I wanted to rage at the injustice of discovering most of my life as the disadvantaged daughter of a single mother was a sham. I wanted to curse my mother for keeping something so important as the identity of my wealthy father from me. But all I felt was a hurt so deep and so profound that it actually felt empowering.

I would probably never again in my life be as painfully betrayed as I was today. There was nowhere to go from here except up and out of the dark hole I’d dug for myself two years ago. Today, the downward descent was over. And I was hysterical with relief.

As I sat on the hospital bed, waiting for the emergency room doctor to examine me for signs of shock, I repeated the lines in my head so I would be ready to tell him or her my story.

My father’s name is Michael Becker. He died last month. One of his associates named Sabrina has been trying to keep me from my inheritance. Today, she tried to kill me.

As the curtain surrounding my hospital bed began to stir with movement, I prepared myself to see a man or woman in a white coat. When the curtain was pulled aside, Leslie’s concerned face looked back at me. In a wheelchair at her side, my mom stared up at me with pure fear behind the tears in her eyes. Whoever had called her, possibly Officer Henley, had probably repeated the story I’d told so many times this morning.

“You knew this whole time,” I said, my voice hardly louder than a whisper.

“He was a bad person, Kristin,” she said, wheeling herself to my bedside so close that my dangling feet touched the side of her wheel. “A very mean man who would have abandoned us the first chance he got.”

“You didn’t even give him a chance to abandon us?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s…a very long story. Yes, I should have told you, but you were always too young to understand. And then, when you got older, I thought it had been so long that it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

“It wouldn’t matter?” I replied, the relief I’d felt earlier disintegrating into grief. “You thought it wouldn’t matter that my father was alive, not killed in some bogus car accident when I was a baby?”

“Kristin, please—”

“I’ll never get to know my father because now he really is dead! And I had to find that out from his former bodyguard, who also happens to be the man who was pretending to be interested in me for what I am instead of who I am.”

That was when I broke. As the epiphany rolled over me, I realized this was what would hurt the most, never knowing if Daniel had been interested in me because of the kind of person I was. Or if he only got close to me because of my inheritance. Would I ever be able to trust anyone again?

I didn’t want to consider the possibility that, if Daniel made it out of that surgery room alive, I would never see him again. But I didn’t know what other option I had, knowing he had so thoroughly fooled me. If he was such a good actor that I was convinced he was extremely wealthy, how did I know he wasn’t acting when he said he was in love with me?

“What happened to Daniel?” Leslie chimed in, probably trying to ease some of the tension.

I shook my head. “He was shot,” I said, my voice cracking on the last syllable. “He was pretending to be rich to impress me, or something. He was my dad’s bodyguard before he died.” I looked into my mom’s eyes as I delivered the next line. “It’s a long story.”

My mother’s expression hardened. “You have every right to be angry with me. You have every right to lash out at me. But you have no right to judge me. I made a decision, a decision I thought was the best for you. Everything I’ve done, I did for you.” Her features softened again. “You’re the most precious thing in my world. Please believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect you.”

I wiped at the tears running down my cheeks as I slid off the hospital bed. “I can’t sit here doing nothing. Tell the doctor I left because I was feeling fine. I have some calls to make.”

My mom grabbed my hand as I began to walk away. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I am so sorry that I hurt you.”

I let out a deep sigh, then I kissed the top of my mom’s head before I set off out of the emergency room, up one elevator, and down a few corridors, until I determined that I was sufficiently lost. Finding a relatively quiet waiting room in the radiology department, I took a seat on an uncomfortable metal bench and began typing a message.

Me:

I’m so sorry, but I’m probably not going to make it to Michaelangelo’s tonight. I’m at the hospital. I’m waiting for a

I couldn’t even finish typing the sentence “I’m waiting for a friend to get out of surgery.” Daniel wasn’t a friend. Was he? What kind of terrible person would I be if I canceled my meeting with Petra, the friend I’d betrayed so badly, so I could be a good friend to the man who’d betrayed me? I deleted the last line and continued typing.

Me:

I’m so sorry, but I’m probably not going to make it to Michaelangelo’s tonight. I’m at the hospital. I was shot at today. I’m fine, but I’m waiting to see if the guy who was with me makes it through surgery.

The guy who was with me? That made it sound like I was hanging out with a random guy and we were involved in a random shooting. It wasn’t random. I needed to tell Petra the truth or I would doom our possible reconciliation from the outset. Shaking my head, I deleted the entire message and started again.

Me:

I’m at the hospital. Someone tried to kill me today. I’m fine, but I’m waiting to see if my friend who was with me makes it out of surgery. It’s a long story I really hope to share with you, but I may not make it to Michaelangelo’s tonight. I’m so sorry.

God, my life must seem like a total shit-show to her right now.

I waited impatiently for her response, trying to busy myself by browsing through my Facebook and Instagram feeds. The happy pictures of people I hadn’t spoken to since I quit NYU were too much to bear. I switched off my phone’s screen and tried to slide it into my pocket, shaking my head in dismay as I realized I had no pockets because I was still wearing my pink sweatpants.

What kind of person leaves the house in sweats and gets shot at while running across a highway?

Someone whose life is a total shit-show.

My phone vibrated and I nearly jumped off the bench. Turning the screen to my face, I unlocked the phone and smiled as I read the message.

Petra:

Are you at Bronx-Lebanon? I’m actually pretty fond of hospital food. ;) Wanna have lunch in the café?

My hands trembled so visibly, I hid them under the lacquered wood tabletop so as not to attract the attention of the people seated at nearby tables in the Grand Café. Clasping my hands together, I tried taking deep breaths to calm my nerves, but nothing worked. Despite her cheery text message, I was terrified of what Petra would say when she saw me, walking around and probably taking careless risks with my life while she was confined to a wheelchair.

Leslie and my mom watched me from the countertop of the cafeteria. After my mom’s sixth voicemail, I finally told her where she could find me, but she had to promise to remain in the background until Petra was ready. Based on Petra’s initial reaction when I called her a few days ago, I was almost certain she would be more excited to see my mom than me.

I watched my mom and Leslie from across the café, too nervous to watch the entrance. The moment my mom’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth, I knew Petra had arrived.

I turned to look over my shoulder at the cafeteria entrance and my muscles went weak.

Petra sat in a wheelchair, wearing blue skinny jeans and a chunky ivory cardigan—despite the summer heat, she was still trying to keep covered up the way she used to with her oversized T-shirts. She had lost a bit of weight, and my chest ached as I realized her legs seemed almost too thin for the rest of her body. Her ginger hair was pulled up in a perfect ponytail, and her makeup looked as if it had been perfected through countless YouTube makeup tutorials.

Happy tears stung the corners of my eyes. She was still as beautiful and vibrant as ever.

My limbs felt almost too weak to support me, but I pushed myself to slide out of the dining booth. I took the first three or four steps slowly and deliberately, before the urge to get to Petra became too strong and I broke into a jog. Spurred on by the smile on her face, I dodged an old man with a walker who was moving at a snail’s pace. When I finally arrived at the café entrance, I was surprised and grateful to see tears collecting in her eyes.

“You look like you’ve had a shitty day,” she said, holding her arms out.

I chuckled through tears as I gently embraced her. She returned my hug vigorously, the way she used to.

“It’s getting better,” I replied.

She laughed as she released me and wiped fresh tears from her rosy cheeks. “Great. Now I’m crying.”

I looked up at the tall, handsome man standing behind her wheelchair. He nodded to my right, and I nearly jumped when I looked behind me and found the old man with a walker standing so close to me I was surprised I hadn’t felt his breath on my neck.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, moving out of his way so he could pass.

“Dumb kids. You’re blocking the entrance,” he complained as he shuffled past us and out into the corridor.

As soon as he was out of earshot, I looked at Petra and we burst into laughter. We collected ourselves as we made our way to an empty table, where Petra finally introduced her male companion.

“Kris, this is my fiancé, Trey,” she said with a proud smile.

I glanced at the modest ring on her finger and the equally modest smile on his face, and my heart soared. “It’s an honor to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand.

Petra waved off my suggestion of a handshake. “Get out of here with your honor and give the guy a hug.”

Trey chuckled as we hugged briefly and set off to find an empty booth with room for Petra’s chair. “It’s good to finally meet you,” he said, positioning Petra next to the table in the corner. “Petra never stops blabbing about you.”

She smacked his forearm as he slid into the tan vinyl bench seat. “No one likes a tattletale,” she chided him with a smile.

As I slid into the booth, I looked away to try to hide the pang of jealousy I felt as I admired their dynamic. It reminded me of what I thought I’d shared with Daniel.

“Whoa. You just got serious,” Petra said, cocking an eyebrow at me as I tried to recover from my moment of envy. “You wanna tell me how the hell you almost got killed today?”

I swallowed hard and looked her in the eye. “I will, but first I have to say how sorry I am for what happened in that car two years ago.”

Petra’s smile disappeared, but she didn’t speak.

“I don’t know if I can ever be forgiven for leaving you in that car,” I continued, “but I want you to know that not a single day goes by where I don’t regret the choices I made that night. I even became a pretty crazy alcoholic for a few months afterward, but my mom nipped that bad habit in the bud pretty quickly.”

Petra smiled again, her eyes brimming with pure admiration. “I’ll bet she did.”

I chuckled as I tried to hide my fear that Petra had agreed to meet me just so she could get back in touch with my mom. “But I still…I can’t stop thinking of how badly I betrayed you,” I said, staring at the table. “I was a bad friend.”

Petra was silent, allowing my words to hang in the space between us, then she let out a soft chuckle. “It’s been two years, Kris,” she said as I looked up to meet her gaze. “If you’re still beating yourself up over the mistakes you made two years ago, you don’t need my forgiveness. You need therapy.”

I smiled uncomfortably. “I guess I should have seen that coming.”

Petra sighed. “What did you expect me to say? I forgive you, Kris. Let’s be BFFs again!” Her gaze didn’t falter as she spoke. “You’re not the only one who made mistakes that night. I should be apologizing to you for getting you into that situation in the first place. You didn’t deserve that any more than I did.” She drew in a shaky breath and continued. “Yes, we fucked up. We fucked up like we were getting paid to fuck up. But I didn’t need your forgiveness to move on with my life. And neither do you. What you need is to forgive yourself.”

I glanced at Trey, but he was staring at the tabletop, doing a very good job of staying out of this exchange. “You’re right,” I said, letting out a sigh as I sank into the vinyl seat. “I don’t know what I expected out of this meeting… You’re also right that I have some serious issues that need serious therapy. Issues that have nothing to do with whether or not you can forgive me.”

She looked at Trey for a moment, lost in thought, then she turned back to me. “I spent a long time being angry, Kris. Hell, I’m still a crazy bitch to Trey most of the time,” she said, and he chuckled. “I get frustrated with my…limitations.” She cringed as she said the word, then continued undaunted. “I’ve raged at you for leaving me, for driving too fast, for not convincing me to stay home. I’ve raged at myself for all those things and more, but mostly for ruining our friendship.” She held up her hand to stop me from interrupting. “I know you want to take all the blame because that’s just who you are. You take on the responsibility for everyone in your life, and you never let anyone make their own fucking mistakes… You should have told me to go to that party alone, but you couldn’t, because that’s not who you are. You need to take care of everyone. And I love that about you, Kris, I really do. But you need to let others take care of you, too.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye, staring at the tabletop as I replied. “I did. I let Daniel take care of me and it nearly got me killed.”

She shook her head and wagged her finger. “Nuh-uh. You can’t stop there. Tell me what the hell happened today.”

I let out a deep sigh. “I wish I knew more, but what I do know is that I was happy. Really, truly happy for the first time since… Then, it all went up in flames. I was suckered into a lie. God, I was a complete fool.” I raised my head to look her in the eyes again. “My father’s name is Michael Becker. He died last month before I ever met him. But, apparently, he was really rich and one of his employees… Well, a few of his employees didn’t want me to get my inheritance, so they cooked up this…scheme, where one of them, Daniel, was supposed to get close to me and, I guess, find dirt on me.”

“That’s disgusting!” Petra snarled.

“I know,” I replied. “The worst part is that it worked. Daniel got close to me, so close I told him about what happened to us two years ago and…and I fell in love with him.”

Petra sucked air in through her teeth as she shook her head. “Is he good looking?”

I laughed. “Ridiculously.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she said with a smile, clearly pleased that she had made me laugh. “Listen, there’s obviously a lot more to this story than what you’ve told me, but I do actually have some advice for you, believe it or not.”

I smiled. “Very hard to believe.”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “But here’s the hard truth: Love is messy as fuck. It looks nothing like the shit you see in Disney movies and rom-coms. Real love is fugly. It’s holding your hair back when you vomit and wiping your snot when you cry, and that’s just two of the many bodily fluids involved.”

I snorted with laughter. “Jesus, Petra. I was almost killed today. I’m not supposed to be laughing right now.”

She waved off my words. “Bullshit. This is exactly when you should be laughing.”

I shook my head. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I’ve missed you too, babe. But right now, you have to finish telling me about this Daniel guy. Start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

As Trey left to get us some hospital food at the counter, I told Petra everything.

I told her how I met Daniel at the property manager’s office, and how his smile could light up the night sky. I told her how he saved me from creepy Roger, and our amazing first date at the art studio. I told her about my brush with death in the Hamptons, and how Daniel could always be counted on to protect me.

I couldn’t so much as look at the food Trey brought us as I took my time telling Petra how incredible it felt to finally tell someone what had happened two years ago. How I had brushed off all the little signs that something was off about Daniel. How desperate I was for something to go right, for someone to take care of me.

How I wished I had known Daniel and I were from the same neighborhood, so we could bond over our shared misery and nostalgia. How I wondered if I would have fallen so hard for Daniel if I’d known he wasn’t wealthy.

That was when I stopped. I had been so worried that Daniel only fell for me because he knew about my inheritance. I never considered that he probably wondered if I had fallen for him because of his pretend wealth. If I was being honest, his wealth was one of the many qualities in Daniel I found so fascinating.

Petra smiled. “You look like you’re having some kind of epiphany.”

I sat up straight. “I am,” I said, staring at nothing in particular for a moment before I snapped my focus back to Petra. “There are no do-overs.”

“Damn fucking straight,” she replied.

I smiled. “Yes, you and I failed. Daniel and I failed. But there’s no path around failure, only through it. There are no do-overs. I just have to keep doing.”

Petra wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooh, are you gonna do him in his hospital bed?”

“Petra!” my mom’s voice startled me.

Petra laughed as Leslie pushed my mom next to her and they hugged vigorously. “Mom!” Petra bellowed as she squeezed harder, unconcerned with the dirty looks she was getting from our fellow diners.

I scooted out of the booth so Leslie could have my seat, and excused myself to allow my mom to catch up with Petra. “I have to check if Daniel’s out of surgery,” I said, kissing my mom’s forehead. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

As I walked away, I took one more glance over my shoulder. I never thought I’d be this happy to discover Petra had found someone to love her and take care of her. She was right. I had to move past the mistakes and make things right with Daniel, not just for me, but for Petra and my mom. They deserved to feel as happy as I felt right now.

I deserved it, too.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the corridor to make my way to the intensive care unit. My stomach curdled with the familiar sensation of guilt as I realized the last time I was here was to see my mom, and I was with Daniel. It seemed the people I loved were dropping like flies around me.

I wasn’t the praying type, but I said a silent prayer for Daniel that he would be okay. I didn’t think I could bear it if Daniel was permanently disfigured—or worse, died—while trying to protect me.

After a brief inquiry, a harried ICU nurse informed me that Daniel was in room 422. She didn’t even ask me for identification. I wanted to question this lack of security, but I figured I probably should keep my mouth shut if I wanted to see him.

“Kristin! Kristin! Over here!”

I whipped my head around at the sound of my name being called, only to find a reporter with a microphone and a cameraman trailing behind her. “What the fuck?” I whispered.

“Kristin,” the woman called out to me again as she approached with her microphone. “How does it feel to know you’re the sole heiress to a $400 million fortune?”

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the ICU nurse said, rising from her swivel chair and coming around the desk toward us. “Media is not allowed in the hospital. You have to wait outside in the parking lot.”

The reporter yanked her arm out of the nurse’s grasp. “I’m just asking a few questions.”

The nurse gave her a scathing look. “Well, you can go ask your questions in the parking lot. Now go!”

The reporter rolled her eyes at the nurse, then looked me in the eye. “I’ll be right outside. We can pay you for an interview!” she yelled in haste as the nurse herded her and the cameraman back into the elevator.

As the nurse pressed the button to take them down to the ground floor, I shook my head. This woman was offering to pay me for an interview right after informing me that I was the sole heiress to a $400 million fortune. She was either a liar or an idiot, and I had no desire to find out which it was. I was beginning to understand why people hated reporters.

The nurse waited until the elevator doors had fully closed before she turned around and returned to her desk, shaking her head. “Sorry about that, honey. They’re sharks. Go into a damn feeding frenzy at the first sign of blood,” she said, taking a seat in front of her computer. “Who did you say you were here for again?”

I swallowed hard as I realized she was going to probably ask for identification now. “Actually, you already gave me the room number,” I replied with a smile. “Thanks for taking care of that. I’ve never actually been approached by reporters before. That was kind of weird.”

She looked up at me with her lips pursed. “Honey, you’d better get used to it with that kind of money.”

My smile faded as I spun around, setting off down the corridor before turning the corner. A large group of people were gathered at the end of the hallway, talking animatedly among themselves. As I read the ever-increasing room numbers on the doors, I realized they were likely standing outside Daniel’s room. They were probably his family.

I wanted to turn around and leave. I had no right to be here. Not only was I not family, but I was the reason Daniel was in that room, possibly clinging to life.

Before I made up my mind, a guy who appeared to be about the same age as Daniel noticed me standing motionless in the middle of the corridor. He broke away from the group and began walking toward me. My heart raced as I realized there was rage in his dark eyes. This could be one of Daniel’s siblings or cousins coming to hit me, or worse. I closed my eyes and braced myself for whatever was about to happen.

After a brief moment of silence, he finally spoke. “Danny’s gonna be so happy to see you.”

I opened my eyes, realizing that what I had mistaken for anger in this man’s eyes was actually grief. His eyes were slightly puffy, as if he had recently been crying.

“He was scared shitless of something bad happening to you,” he continued, blinking furiously, probably to hold back more tears. “You don’t know me, but I’ve been helping Danny keep an eye on you this week. I’m Zane.”

He held his hand out for me to shake, but I hugged him instead.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He chuckled as he gently pushed me away. “Yeah, no big deal,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the group of people.

“No, I mean, thank you for not being mad at me,” I clarified.

His thick eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Why would I be mad at you? Unless you’re the one who shot him?”

I smiled and shook my head. “Definitely not. I just thought you guys might be mad at me because he got shot protecting me.”

He waved off this suggestion as a skinny guy with big ears came over to join us. “Girl, you should know by now. Nobody can stop Danny from trying to be the hero. It’s just in his nature. That motherfucker thinks he’s Batman.”

“For reals,” the skinny guy replied, shaking his head as he turned to me. “Who’s your friend, Zane?”

“Remember that chick Danny was trying to tell us about the other night at Tino’s?” Zane replied, then he addressed me. “This is Ollie,” he said, indicating the skinny guy. “Actually, I don’t think we properly introduced ourselves. Danny never told us your name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Kristin.”

Ollie smiled as he looked me up and down. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. You here to see my boy?”

I glanced at the group gathered outside Daniel’s room. There were two young girls who looked to be in their teens, one older woman who looked about Daniel’s age, and another guy who looked a lot like Daniel, only younger.

“I don’t know,” I replied hesitantly. “Looks like there’s already a lot of people here to see him. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

Zane and Ollie looked at each other, a silent exchange happening between them before Ollie spoke. “You think Danny wants to see his brother and sisters when he wakes up? He sees those little fuckers every damn day of his life.”

I tried not to laugh at this, but it was difficult. “Do you know if Daniel’s…okay?”

It felt strange calling him Daniel when they clearly all called him Danny. It made me feel even more like a stranger who didn’t belong there.

Zane smiled. “Don’t tell him I said this, but that fool could probably take a dozen bullets and be okay.”

Ollie laughed. “Thank you for that blackmail material.”

“Fuck you,” Zane replied, rolling his eyes, though he was clearly uncomfortable.

I glanced at the group of people outside Daniel’s room again, then I turned to Zane, my new ally. “Can you introduce me to his family first?”

A huge smile spread across his sharp features. “It would be my pleasure.”