Seven Years Ago
SULLY
I huffed a breath, staring at my open college textbook.
It had long been established that I didn’t study. The only reason I even bothered to open this chapter on the powerhouse of the cell was because, frankly, I had nothing else to do.
Why was I learning about the fucking mitochondria again? Why did the education system continue to bang this into my head when I could be learning about more important biological things? Like—
“Hey, can I return this book?”
A dude with a head of brown hair that could only be described as “hockey flow” dropped a book on the desk in front of me, and I flashed him a look before using a single finger to nudge the spine of said book across the desktop until the whole thing fell into the slot that was clearly labeled Book Return.
I forced a smile onto my face as I looked up at him. “Sure can.”
He nodded and then walked away, leaving me with my textbook again.
Two more hours of this—of my shift at the front desk at the campus library.
And since it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, it left very limited options for how to fill my time.
I’d already played two hours of Tetris between exchanging texts with Ellie, but she’d just gone into a doctor’s appointment and would be off her phone for at least a half hour or so.
So I decided to at least pretend to be studious while I waited.
The words weren’t really sticking in my brain, though.
Beneath the table, my leg bounced as I tried to focus on a sentence that my eyes had already run over a few times.
The required reading was my least favorite part of college. The rest of it? Great.
My dorm was a hop, skip, and a jump away from Ellie’s, so life was back to the way it was supposed to be.
As for the classes? Short and to the point.
Most of the actual learning was up to each individual student, which was great for me.
I always did better when I could consume content at my own pace.
So far, I’d managed above-average grades, I had a decent job on campus, which involved me sitting in this chair a few times a week, and I got to spend all my free time with my girlfriend.
Who was…calling me.
I straightened, staring at my phone.
The loud vibration echoed in the quiet library, and I swiped my phone off the desk, answering it.
“Sawyer?” Ellie breathed, sounding…wobbly. Unsteady.
“El?” I could feel it in my bones, a chilling of sorts. The world tilted, suddenly unbalanced. Something was wrong. “Is everything okay?”
I’d been trying not to worry about this appointment she was at—probably the reason words hadn’t been sticking in my brain. I’d had other ones circulating there, ones I’d been trying and failing not to think about.
Ellie had noticed some weird symptoms over the weekend.
She’d been finding it hard to catch her breath when we walked to the same park we always did on Sunday afternoons, and her chest had been a little tight, even when watching TV last night.
Maybe it was allergies, she said, even though it was winter.
Maybe it was a chest cold. It was frigid this weekend; maybe that had something to do with it.
But this morning, it had been worse.
I pushed her to go in, and now she was calling me.
Now, she sounded worried.
Her voice wavered when she answered me.
“I—no, I mean, yes.” Her breaths were coming quickly, and I didn’t know if that meant her symptoms were worse or if she was panicking. Or maybe it was all in my head because I was panicking. “I don’t know. I think they’re admitting me to the hospital.”
I shot to my feet.
“What? Why? What’s wrong?”
People were looking at me now, but I didn’t care.
Ellie cut in and out, but I caught the words “Pulmonary embolism.”
Blood drained from my face, panic seeping into my bones as I fumbled to grab my things, heart in my throat as I listened to Ellie continue.
“They had me do—” She sucked in, like the words got stuck in her throat, and the way she was breathing was terrifying me.
“A CT scan. And as soon as the doctor came in with the results, they ushered me into a wheelchair, and they took me to the ER, and now everyone’s whispering around me and acting like I’m dy—”
“You are not fucking dying.”
Absolutely fucking not.
Too frantic to walk to the end of this giant fucking circulating front desk, I leapt over it instead.
“Sawyer.”
I could hear the catch in her throat, and fuck, I was in pain.
“I’m coming, baby,” I promised her. “I’m coming.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered, words I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard her utter aloud.
“I’m coming,” I repeated. “I’m on my way.”
I was sprinting now, outside, my feet slapping against the snow-covered pavement on campus. Cold air beat my cheeks raw.
“Okay. Thank you,” she said as though I was doing her a goddamn favor. As though I wouldn’t fight fucking tooth and nail to be by her side right now and always. As though I didn’t love her more than anything.
“Everything’s going to be okay, alright?” I needed it to be true, and I needed her to believe it. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
It was the only outcome I’d accept.