This is confirmed when she shakes her head in wonder. “Do the girls from the ranch know yet? That it didn’t happen?”
“Yet?” I snort. “You think I’m just going to call and tell them? No way.” Sarabelle’s funeral is today. I’m sure not one of them would care about how my sex life isn’t going.
“Are you going to tell the truth if one of them asks you?”
“I don’t know.” I look out the windshield at the bleak, gray day. “I can’t see myself lying, but it is kind of embarrassing.”
“I don’t think so. I think it sounds like he really likes you, Liz.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” It’s been three days, and I haven’t heard a word from Hunter. “There’s no question we have chemistry, but chemistry isn’t everything.”
“Isn’t it?” Suri murmurs.
And I know she’s referencing Adam and her. She hasn’t talked about it much, and she says she doesn’t want to, but her sadness is obvious, and I hate that for her.
I check my phone’s screen—I’m insane, and I’ve put Hunter’s name into a search engine’s alert system, so I’ll know if anything about him is published online. Nothing new has popped up.
I slide my phone between my thighs and try to think of something non-Hunter-related. “I want to hear more about you and Cross.”
It’s an intentional phrasing, because I think there’s something going on, even though Suri won’t spill.
She shrugs. “We’ve just been hanging.”
I haven’t had a chance to visit Cross yet, unbelievably. My first day back, Mom’s rehab called and said I had to do a discharge visit. It actually went better than they usually do. Mom looked more fit and happy than I’ve seen her in a long time. They’ve got her on a new antidepressant, and I’m trying to be positive about her recovery. I even stayed the night in one of the rehab’s guest rooms at the ‘spa’—where I lay awake on my little cot until the sun rose, searching my phone for news about Hunter or the investigation into Sarabelle’s death. The next day, yesterday, Cross got a visit from his father, so I couldn’t visit then, either.
“I can’t wait to hear how the visit with his dad went,” Suri says. “I hope he wasn’t an asshole to Cross.”
“I hope so too.” I try to squash the awful curiosity about what Hunter’s father said—about the governor and his bygone mistress—but I can’t. So I look out the window and focus on the grass and trees.
A few minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of NVIR and I start getting butterflies. “Are you sure he doesn’t mind if I come?”
It seems ridiculous asking. Cross has always been slightly closer to me than to Suri. But I’m struggling with the feeling that in just two weeks, Suri has taken my place.
“Of course, you goose. He’s dying to see you and hear how your ‘class trip’ went.”
“Ugh. I hate having to lie to him.”
“Are you actually going to write about it for school?” she asks as we get out of the car.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not.” I had to un-enroll for the semester to make the trip, and when I get back to it next semester, I doubt I’ll feel like rehashing an old situation.
We’re quiet as we walk through the door, and there’s Nanette. She’s got her long brown hair pulled up into a pretty bun, and she’s wearing purple scrubs. She reaches out to hug me, and I’m kind of surprised and kind of thrilled.
“Nanette. Long time!”
“Too long! How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“That’s great.”
I smile—genuine, because I really like her. “How is Cross?”
“He’s up and moving. He shaved today and he’s been playing games on my cell phone. He’s still having some trouble with his left hand and leg, as well as some occasional pain in his neck, but we’re seeing improvement in the leg.”
“But not in his hand?” Suri asks.
“Not much,” Nanette says. “But we think the pain he’s having in his neck might have something to do with his hand. Besides, we’re not anywhere near the end of his rehab.”
I tear up, because it’s so amazing to hear that. Cross is awake, and I’m here, and it’s really real now. Suri and I hold hands as we walk back to his room.
“Ready?” she whispers.
I nod.
She pushes the door open, and I feel like a kid at Christmas.
Cross is standing, leaning against his bed’s footboard, wearing gray scrubs and a dark blue t-shirt, which is enough to knock me off my feet. Then I see his face, and I feel like I’ve been sucker punched. As soon as his eyes land on me, he looks...infuriated.
I open my mouth to say his name, but he beats me to the punch. “Suri,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Give us a minute. In fact, come back sometime later.”