My shift at the ER that night was crazy. There was a pile-up on Highway 280 and the less critical patients were all brought in to us. At least it kept me busy, but once the patients had been transferred to surgery or rooms, the ER calmed down. The rooms were empty, and it was just me and Rachel Thomas. She had been a grade above me in high school. Cheerleader. Pageant queen. We’d said two words to each other our entire lives.

Meg had been texting me all night, checking on me. I told her nothing happened when she picked me up. As always, she knew I was lying. But, for once, I stuck by my lie and told her I just didn’t want to wake Noah, swearing nothing happened.

Why did I do that? Because I didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe she had been right about him. Dear friends… I rolled my eyes thinking about him saying that, then anger flared in my chest. Not at him, but at myself, because as much as I wanted to be mad at him, I couldn’t. He’d never said we were anything. In fact, that night by the airport he called me a friend. Noah was the town heartthrob. He’d had every girl, then he’d had me. He didn’t even know I was a virgin, I mean, my God, I was twenty. I’d dated Max Summers. I was best friends with Meg McKinney, surely he assumed that entire birds of a feather crap… I picked up my phone, staring at the text he’d sent that morning. Sighing, I texted him:

“So,” Rachel said, flicking her strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder as she leaned against the counter. “I heard you and Noah Greyson…” Smiling, she wiggled a brow.

“Oh, um”—heat washed over my face, and I set my phone on the counter—“we’re friends.” I wanted to shrink into the wall.

She rolled a shoulder. “Yeah…” The way she drew at the yeah made me cringe. “I used to be friends with him.” She rolled her eyes. “Charming, isn’t he?”

I didn’t say a word, and I’m sure my face gave everything I wanted to keep secret away. “He’s nice.”

She laughed. “Nice? Yeah, he’s too nice. He has a way of making you feel like you are the only thing in the world that exists. God, the lines he could spin, and even when I knew it was all a fucking lie, I believed it. He’s that good.” She pushed up and grabbed something from the printer. “Look, it’s none of my business, babe, and my experience with him, well,” she shrugged, “it was my experience, but just tread carefully. He’s fucked up and I don’t think he realizes what he does to girls.” She patted my back as she passed by and walked into the one occupied room.

I tried to ignore her words. I closed my eyes. I drummed my fingers on the counter. I straightened the workstation. Dear friends. He called me a dear friend after he promised we’d get through everything together. God, how stupid could I have been? I snatched my phone up on my way to the restroom, dialing his number and pressing the phone to my ear when I closed the bathroom door.

“The Verizon Wireless number you were trying to reach has calling restrictions which has prevented the completion of your call.” The line went dead.

I pulled the phone away and stared at the screen with Noah’s name still on display. “What?” I whispered, my pulse slowly picking up pace. I tried the number again. “The Verizon Wireless number you were trying to reach has calling restrictions which has—”

When I hung up, I slipped the phone into the front pocket of my scrubs and braced my palms against the porcelain sink. I stared at my reflection, telling myself there was a logical explanation. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was the way his chin dropped to his chest when he was on top of me. The way his lips closed when he said, “Fuck… Hannah.”

My chest tensed.

Meg warned me.

My brother warned me.

My father.

The damn lady at the beauty shop...

But my mother told me no regrets, and yet, I already regretted it. Not even twenty-four hours later while I was still sore and every step I took reminded me he’d been there.

How the hell are you supposed to know what you will regret? Not taking a chance, sure? But that’s a sugar-laced lie, isn’t it? You can always regret not doing something, but that regret must be different from actually going through with something and realizing you were inevitably wrong in doing so?

I yanked open the door to the bathroom and went back to the nurses’ station, filling out the paperwork I had left on Mr. Smith. Laceration to the left cheek. Two stitches.

My phone dinged with a text.

Attached was a screenshot of a selfie from Daisy Benson’s Facebook page. Behind her was a wooden door with the number 33 on it. She was on Noah’s porch. The caption said: Big things ahead for my dear friend, Noah Greyson. Can’t wait to tell the world, babe. <3 <3 I swallowed around the lump in my throat when I looked at the date. Yesterday, an hour before he came to get me.

Dear friend. I laughed not to cry, then I took a breath. Regrets?

Jesus, I may have regretted not sleeping with him until I was ninety. I may have regretted living out some stupid fantasy. Fine. But the way it feels to know I was foolish enough to love him, that’s a regret that cuts in a way I don’t think I’ll ever get over.

I allowed him to become everything to me when I was nothing to him.

The alarm on my watch buzzed and I shut it off. I fought back the wave of anger, then the disgust as I stormed toward the time clock. I swiped my badge, choking on my emotions.

“You out?” Rachel said.

All I did was nod even though I wanted to shout at her, asking why the hell she was talking to me now. After twelve years of school, two months of work. Why now? Because she knew, that’s why. She felt sorry for me because I was that cliché idiot from love stories: the good girl who fell for the bad boy. Well, I didn’t want to be her!

Jeopardy went off and I glanced over at Momma asleep on her bed. Even in her sleep, you could see pain wrinkling her face. I kissed her cheek, grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, then went to my room.

I laid in the bed, like always, staring up at the ceiling. My mind wouldn’t stop long enough to let me rest. Back and forth it went between Momma and Noah. Finally, I picked up my phone from the nightstand and went to Facebook Messenger, staring at his latest message. Lost my phone which means I lost all my contacts. Long story, I’m out of town. I’ll be back on Thursday, I didn’t want you to think I just up and left. I don’t know how to handle this shit, but I miss you. You mean a lot to me, Hannah.

I stared at that message for a good ten minutes before I clicked on his profile picture. It’s strange how you can hear someone’s voice in your head, how memories can flood your mind like some unwanted ghost. I rested my head against my headboard before dropping the phone to the bed.

I knew Noah—didn’t I?

The Noah I knew didn’t seem like he could be the guy Meg warned me about, the guy the ladies at Judy’s gossiped about, the guy that made empty promises to Rachel Thomas. But, maybe I didn’t really know him after all.