She says it so casually it almost sounds like no big deal to hang out with A-list movie stars and have the inside scoop on what’s going on behind the scenes of the next Hollywood blockbuster.

“When does she want you back?”

“Wednesday.”

“This Wednesday?”

She nods. “It’ll be fine. We’ll leave here tonight, drive to Chicago. I’ll have all day tomorrow to rest and try and catch up on my writing, and then I’ll catch a late flight Tuesday, do my little PR stunt Wednesday morning, and I can come back after that.”

“Chloe,” I say gently and sit on the bed next to her. “That’s how you got sick in the first place. You ran yourself ragged.”

“I’m just sitting in a plane for like ten hours.”

“And the airport for just as long.”

“It’s not that bad, especially if I take a secret plane.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A secret plane?”

“It’s how celebrities travel,” she tells me. “I didn’t know about it until Charles and I become friends. You get dropped off away from the general public and have your own special waiting area. If you’re flying commercial, you’re boarded at a separate time or sometimes driving straight to the plane.”

“That’s interesting,” I admit. “I never thought about it, though I do prefer to fly first-class and don’t know if I could ever go back to coach.”

“Snob,” she teases and then yawns. “I flew coach to get here to Chicago. It was the only thing available.”

“Go home to LA,” I tell her. “I work seven AM to seven PM tomorrow, have Wednesday off, and then work seven PM to seven AM Thursday to Friday. I can catch a plane after that and come see you. Let me run ragged instead,” I joke.

“I feel bad making you do that.”

“It’s my turn to come see you.” …If you’ll want me to, that is. “And I don’t think you looked at the weather forecast, but the weather this week in Chicago is shitty.”

“The nice weather is honestly what’s keeping me there,” she confesses. “It’s big and busy and so damn expensive to live in LA. Chicago is expensive too.”

“And we don’t get the nice weather.” I move the IV line so I can wrap my arms around Chloe. “My mom likes to remind me two things on a monthly basis: I don’t have kids and I could buy a really nice house in Silver Ridge and pay less for the mortgage than I do for rent.”

“Hah, my dad says the same thing. I rented an apartment the first year I lived in LA, and it killed me every time rent was due.” She coughs and brings a hand to her chest, grimacing from the pain. “It’s really annoying I’m not better yet after spending nearly twenty-four hours in the hospital.”

“If only it worked that way.”

“Do you get many sick patients?” Her eyes fall shut and I pull the blankets over her lap.

“No. Trauma centers treat injuries. Sometimes people are sick on top of an injury, or illness develops through their weakened state, though we don’t see that too often since everyone knows how important it is to wear PPE to protect not only ourselves, but our vulnerable patients.”

“I still don’t know how you do that almost every day. You’re a real-life hero.”

“It’s my job.”

A few seconds of silence pass. “Sam?”

“Yeah?

“You can go. I know it’s boring here.” Her body relaxes against mine. “I’m gonna take a nap until I’m released from prison. Go hang out with your family for a little bit.”

“I told you, I don’t mind staying.”

“You should go to my dad’s and gather up our stuff. It’ll make leaving later easier.”

She has a good point. “Do you want anything from the house? You could be here another few hours.”

“I know,” she groans. “I might pull a Mason and just leave.”

“Leaving against medical advice can make it really difficult to work with your insurance, you know.”

“I didn’t, but it makes sense. I guess I’ll stay. I’d rather not pay full price for any medical bills. We really need universal healthcare.”

“I don’t disagree.” I kiss her neck. “I’ll go to the house and get things put together and straightened up.”

“Thank you. And then hopefully we can leave right after that. I’d like to sit by the lake one more time before we leave.”

“Yeah…that would be nice.” I swallow hard. It would give me a chance to tell her—finally tell her—the truth.

“This is ridiculous,” Chloe grumbles. “I swear they’re taking their sweet time on purpose just to charge me more.”

“There’s a lot more that goes on behind the scenes than you realize,” I tell her. “But this hospital doesn’t seem too crazy busy so I’m starting to agree with you.”

Chloe is up and dressed, and we’ve been sitting here waiting for the nurse to come back with the rest of the discharge paperwork.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” Chloe asks, zipping up a black hooded sweatshirt that has a triple-moon symbol on the breast, along with her series slogan Fight like a girl underneath. “Go to your parents?”

“I’d like to be alone with you.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She smiles but looks even more exhausted than before. “Our options for takeaway are pizza or something from Silver Cafe, right?”

“The Cantina does carryout now.”

“Ohh, a taco sounds good,” she says.

“As soon as we’re actually leaving, I’ll call and put in an order,” I tell her, and it ends up taking another twenty minutes before we finally leave. Chloe stays in the car while I run in to get the food, and she’s asleep when I get back. Neon lights from the bright sign on the building illuminate her face. She’s so fucking beautiful. My heart lurches in my chest and it’s stupid how emotional I’m getting right now…but it’s really not.

Because I love Chloe with every fiber of my being, and even if we do work things out, nothing will be the same.

21

Chloe

“Chloe.”

Sam’s hand lands on my thigh and I sit up, blinking my eyes open. I forgot where I am, and it takes me a few seconds to remember I left the hospital and fell asleep in Sam’s car. We’re in the driveway, and the porch lights from Dad’s house illuminate the porch, welcoming us home.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” I unbuckle and roll my neck.

“You needed it.”

“Yeah. I’m still tired.” It’s after seven, and even if we left for Chicago right now, it’ll be after nine by the time we get there. Add in another hour or so to get unpacked, take a shower, and get ready for bed, and it’ll be after ten, which isn’t too late for Sam, who has to get up around five-thirty in the morning. “I’ll eat fast,” I tell him as we get out of the car.