Chapter 4

My new apartment turned out to be in the same complex as Gilbert.

The day I moved in, I was hauling boxes and bags upstairs, out of breath and dripping with sweat.

At the elevator, I ran into Gilbert, just coming home from work.

He saw me and paused for a second, then broke into a gentle smile.

"Miss Pruitt, you live here?"

"I do. What are the odds, Dr. Dickerson."

"Let me help." He took the two heaviest boxes out of my hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"No, no, I couldn't trouble you like that."

"It's no trouble. Neighbors should help each other out."

He insisted, so I let him.

We got into the elevator together.

I was on the seventh floor, he was on the tenth.

He carried everything into my apartment for me, a thin film of sweat on his forehead.

"Thank you, Dr. Dickerson. Come in and have a glass of water."

"Don't worry about it." He waved it off. "Get yourself settled. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

After he left, I looked around the empty apartment, and something warm stirred in me.

The first weekend in the new place, Melinda dragged me out shopping.

Her words for it: celebrating my new lease on life.

We spent the whole afternoon at the mall and came away with plenty of bags.

That evening, Melinda suggested hotpot.

The place was loud and packed, steam rising off every table.

We took a spot by the window.

"So that neighbor of yours, the doctor. Have you two been in touch since?" Melinda asked, swirling a slice of beef in the pot, hungry for gossip.

"Just twice, both in the elevator."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You block of wood!" She jabbed my forehead, exasperated with me. "A chance like that, and you can't even put in a little effort!"

I just smiled and said nothing.

The truth was, I did like Gilbert.

He was gentle, considerate, and knew where the lines were.

A completely different kind of man from Dustin.

But I hadn't fully climbed out from under the shadow of my last relationship.

I didn't want to jump into something new this fast. It wouldn't be fair to Gilbert.

Right in the middle of it, my phone rang.

It was Viola.

After the breakup, I'd only blocked Dustin, not the rest of the family.

I hesitated, then picked up.

"Jane, where are you?" Viola sounded frantic.

"Is something wrong?"

"Dustin, he... something's happened to him!"

My stomach dropped.

"What happened?"

"He drank too much and his stomach's bleeding. They're doing emergency treatment right now! Jane, please come, he keeps calling your name!"

There was a sob in her voice.

I gripped the phone, my fingertips ice cold.

Melinda saw the look on my face and leaned in. "What is it?"

"Dustin. Stomach bleeding. He's at the hospital."

Melinda frowned.

"How is his stomach bleeding any of your business? Don't you dare go soft!"

I didn't answer.

Reason told me I shouldn't go.

We'd already broken up. Whatever happened to him had nothing to do with me.

But...

"Jane, please come, I'm begging you!" Viola was crying on the other end. "The doctor says he's in a bad way. If something happens to him, I..."

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"Which hospital?"

"City First Hospital."

I hung up, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.

"Jane!" Melinda called after me.

I stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I'm only going to take a look."

"You..." Melinda was too angry to get the words out.

I took a cab to City First Hospital.

At the ER doors, I found Viola waiting, wracked with nerves.

The moment she saw me she rushed over and grabbed my hand.

"Jane, you finally came!"

Her hand was cold and still shaking.

"How is he?"

"They're still working on him." She was crying. "It's all my fault. If it weren't for me, Dustin never would have gone drinking."

Looking at her tear-streaked face, I felt a wave of irritation.

"What exactly happened?"

"After you broke up with Dustin, he's been miserable, drinking every single day. I went to check on him today and found him passed out at home, empty bottles all around him..."

The tears fell harder as she spoke.

I listened in silence, everything tangling up inside me.

Just then the ER doors opened.

A doctor stepped out.

It was Gilbert.

He saw me and paused too.

"Miss Pruitt?"

"Dr. Dickerson."

Viola pulled me forward and asked in a rush, "Doctor, how is he?"

Gilbert took off his mask, his expression grave.

"The patient had acute gastric bleeding and lost a lot of blood. Fortunately he was brought in time and he's out of danger now. But his stomach is badly damaged. He'll need to stay for observation."

Hearing he was out of danger, Viola let out a breath and sagged against me.

I held her up.

Gilbert's gaze lingered on my face for a moment, then moved to Viola.

"Are you family?"

"I'm his... his girlfriend's sister." Viola glanced at me and said it quietly.

Gilbert nodded, then looked at me again.

"The patient is very agitated. He's been calling your name. Go in and see him, help settle him down."

I walked into the room.

Dustin lay on the bed, his face white as paper, not a trace of color in his lips.

His eyes were shut, his brow drawn tight, as if he couldn't rest even in sleep.

I stood at the bedside and looked at him quietly.

Seven years.

This was the first time I'd ever seen him this fragile.

He seemed to have lost a lot of weight, his features gone sharp.

"Janie..."

He murmured suddenly, calling my name.

Something twisted in my chest.

He slowly opened his eyes, and when he saw me, a spark flared in their dull depths.

"Janie, you came."

His voice was weak and hoarse.

He struggled to sit up, reaching out to take my hand.

I stepped back.

His outstretched hand froze in midair.

The light in his eyes dimmed, bit by bit.

"Are you... still angry with me?"

I said nothing.

The room was dead silent.

A long time passed before he gave a bitter laugh.

"I'm sorry. I made you worry again."

"I wasn't worried." My voice came out cold. "Viola begged me to come."

His face lost another shade of color.

"Janie, can we really... never go back to how things were?"

"No."

My answer was clean and quick, without a shred of hesitation.

He closed his eyes, his throat working, as if fighting to hold something down.

"Why?" He opened his eyes again, the whites laced with red. "Because I helped Vi up first? Over one little thing like that, you'd throw away seven years of us?"

A little thing?

I looked at him, and suddenly it struck me as absurd.

"Dustin, that wasn't a little thing."

"It was the last straw. The one that broke me."