Chapter 3

When I opened my eyes again, there was a white hospital ceiling above me.

An oxygen mask covered my face. Beside the bed stood a man in a faded Patagonia jacket.

The hiker from the mountain. The one who'd driven me to the ER.

"I'm Adrian Cole."

"The power was out last night, so I took the stairs. I heard someone fall inside your unit. Knocked, got nothing, so I called 911 and had the building superintendent open the door."

He paused.

"I'm in unit B. Moved in last week."

He volunteered with mountain search and rescue and worked as a paramedic for the city's EMS.

He'd found me both times I'd been at my most helpless, closest to death.

I opened my mouth, but my throat was so dry that all I could manage was a hoarse whisper.

Adrian picked up the cup from the bedside table and brought the straw to my lips.

"Don't talk yet. You're safe now."

Then he added one more thing.

"The hospital called the emergency contact in your phone four times. Nobody picked up. So the nurse wrote down my number instead."

The next evening, after a full day of radio silence, Ethan finally showed.

I found out later that Olivia had been fine that night. They'd gone back to her apartment.

She came in glued to his side, carrying a lemonade loaded with ice.

"Natalie, I heard you were back in the hospital. I bought this just for you. Don't be mad anymore, okay?"

She smiled and started to set the cup on the nightstand.

Adrian's hand came up and blocked it. His voice was flat.

"Her airway is still swollen. The doctor said nothing cold. Take it away."

Ethan's face darkened.

He looked at me. "Who the hell is this?"

"The man who saved her life last night," Adrian said.

The room went quiet.

Ethan scoffed.

"The swelling thing again? Last time it cleared up on its own."

"Natalie, two ER trips in two days, and now you've got some guy here playing along?"

"I don't have time for your jealous little games."

I unlocked my phone, pulled up the MyChart diagnosis page, and held it out.

The doctor said I hadn't recovered when I left the hospital, and now I had a lung infection too.

Ethan glanced at it.

"You know your health is bad. Would it have killed you to call me earlier and talk like a normal person? Did you have to let it get this far?"

My fists clenched.

The first time I'd ever had an attack, he'd stayed up with me in the hospital all night.

He'd logged everything in his phone — how to use my emergency meds, when to get me to a hospital. He'd even set reminders for the expiration dates.

He said he'd never let me face an attack alone again.

So forever came with a shelf life. Three years.

When I didn't say anything, he came over and pulled my blanket up for me.

I knew that movement too well.

Back in college, we went climbing on a snow-covered mountain.

I rolled my ankle halfway up and then altitude sickness set in.

He carried me on his back half a mile through the snow at four below, until he found a shelter hut.

By the time we reached the hut, the trekking pole had rubbed the skin between his thumb and forefinger raw and bloody. But he took off his jacket to wrap around me first, then tucked a blanket around me.

"Natalie, stop trying to tough it out. Nothing is worth more than your life."

Now he tucked the blanket around me the same way, but this time he said:

"All right. We're dropping this. When you're discharged, you'll post an apology to Olivia in the group. One line. That's all."

I looked at that familiar face and felt nothing but nausea.

I reached down, pulled the blanket back out from where he'd tucked it, and forced the words out.

"Ethan. We're done."