Then the scene freezes, the rain suspended in the air, making the world around me distorted. I find Monroe as he stands, now alone, with his eyes closed. I’m about to call to him, but then he slowly looks up at me and whispers, “Jump.”
“I think she’s coming around.”
There’s a jolt and I’m awake. I feel disoriented as I glance around at the familiar white walls decorated with posters about STDs. I’m at the clinic.
I close my eyes again. “So I’m not dead?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. Even though I know where I am now, I can still feel the rain against my skin. The wind swaying me on the bridge. The word “jump” is still in my ears.
“Hardly,” Monroe says. I’m startled by how close his voice is and I turn to see him sitting next to me in a chair. His eyes are narrowed as he looks me over. “You gave your boyfriend a good scare, though,” he says in a tight voice. “Had to give you a steroid to open up your lungs. Why do you think you had this severe an attack, Charlotte?”
“Stress.” I manage to sit up. Harlin is sitting on a stool in the corner, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands over his mouth. He looks terrified.
“Hey,” I call. He doesn’t answer, he just stares at me and blinks back tears. “What?” I ask, and suddenly, I’m scared that he saw my skin, that he knows I’m a freak.
He sniffles and rubs roughly at his face. “You passed out,” he says quietly. “And I couldn’t wake you up. I thought you were dying. I—” He stops and covers his mouth again. Monroe was right—I had scared the crap out of him.
“Come here,” I say, and pat the space next to me on the cot.
“Charlotte,” Monroe begins, but I look at him sharply. He raises his hands like he gives up and stands, backing away. I have plenty to talk to Monroe about, but Harlin comes first. He always comes first.
Harlin walks over, his eyes red and his beautiful face a little blotchy. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” he whispers. “You get worse every day.”
And my heart breaks. I fought the Need and it almost killed me, it is killing me. The more I slip away, the more I’ll hurt Harlin. I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t think I can let him go.
I reach out my hand to him and he takes it, before sitting down next to me. He gathers me in his arms, and rests his cheek on the top of my head. I close my eyes, listening to his slow heartbeat. I relax.
Monroe leaves but I can feel him glaring as he does. When I hear the door shut, Harlin exhales. “Monroe is pissing me off,” he says quietly.
I prop myself up on my arms and look Harlin in the eyes. “Why?”
“Because he’s lying too.”
I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”
Harlin scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re both lying to me, Charlotte. How stupid do you think I am? I know what asthma is. And I know that you shouldn’t be having attacks every day and nearly dying. And when I ask him . . . he’s like you. He’s hiding something.”
His face hardens in anger. And I don’t know what I can tell him. I have to keep lying. “It’s asthma.”
“Shut up.” Harlin moves away, turning his back on me. “Don’t bother talking if you’re not going to tell me the truth.”
“Harlin.” He’s being harsh, and it’s making my chest feel raw, hurt. He doesn’t answer and I wrap myself around him from behind. I put my face against his warm neck.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Don’t leave me.”
Without a second’s hesitation, Harlin turns into me and cups my face with his hands. “I’m not leaving you, Charlotte,” he says. “I’m trying to keep you.”
His hands are rough on my face. I lean in and press my mouth to his, kissing him softly, the way he usually kisses me. But instead of responding the way I expect, he pushes me back down on the cot and kisses me hard. Desperately.
I suddenly wonder if it means something more. I wonder if he’s saying good-bye. But he continues to kiss me with an urgency I haven’t felt before. And when we’re out of breath, he buries his face in my hair and holds me tight to him.
“Wait,” I gasp, looking around the room. “Sarah?”
“She’s okay.”
“Where is she?” I try to remember the last time I saw her. She was lying on the seat of the town car, unconscious.
Harlin’s throat clicks as he swallows. “Monroe called Sarah’s father the minute he saw her. He said he couldn’t treat her without her dad’s consent.”
I gasp and pull away. “But he treats me all the time!”
“No offense, Charlotte,” Harlin says, “but Mercy doesn’t own half the city. Monroe has to cover himself.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
A booming voice echoes from the waiting room and Harlin and I exchange a glance. Sarah’s father is here.
“I have to go out there.” I climb off the cot but Harlin catches my arm.
“Maybe you shouldn’t. Let’s stay out of it.”
“No.” I pull away from him and start walking to the door when I feel the Need come back, slowing creeping inside my chest. But it’s changed somehow. Not as overwhelming, and almost . . . irritating. It puts me on edge.
Harlin follows as I make my way out into the lobby. Sarah’s parents are there, still in their formal wear. Her mother’s hair is red, but she doesn’t have the same spirit as her daughter. Maybe she did once, but now she’s not much more than a trophy wife with a Botoxed forehead and plastic boobs.
I pause at the thought, surprised at how cruel I sound. I’d never really disliked her before, but right now, I feel unexplainable hatred. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the feeling, but when we come into view, Sarah’s father turns. His dark eyes bore into me as they narrow.
“You,” he says, pointing. “What did you do to her?”
“Me?”
“You said she was in the bathroom. Where was she? What did you give her?”
“Why would I give her anything?” I’m confused by his accusation. “I had nothing to do with this!”
A look of disgust crosses his face. “I should have known better than to let her hang around with you. No good—”
But then Harlin is there, standing in front like he’s taking a bullet for me.
“I suggest you shut up. Charlotte is your daughter’s friend. Her only friend. I think maybe you owe her an apology.”