His jaw flexed. How far could I push before he lost his shit in front of the class? That might be fun to see…

“Don’t,” Josh whispered, like he could read my mind.

He was right, of course. This wasn’t the frat house or the rink. This was my career.

I swallowed the acidic comment on my tongue and instead concentrated on recording the upcoming dates and times Carter was throwing at us. I was getting better at this being-civil shit.

Barely.

Chapter Nine

Paisley

4. Stand up for something you believe in.

“Why, yes, I’d love to be bikini-body ready for Halloween,” Morgan drawled, pointing to the publication date. “We need to get this doctor of yours some new reading material.”

Laughter shook my shoulders as I swung my feet from the end of the exam table. “Thanks for coming with me.”

She reached out from her seat and gave my hand a squeeze. “There’s no place else I’d rather be.” Her smile was bright, and her eyes the same¸ but with unshed tears.

“Don’t be scared, Morgan. I’m not scared.” I wasn’t. Resigned, maybe. Sad, even. But knowing I was limited on time made me more driven, more determined to live than anything else. I’d make it through that list.

She wiped away a stray tear and sniffed through her smile. “But you don’t have to miss you if something…”

Now it was my turn to squeeze her hand. “One hundred ninety-two days. Now stop.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“Peyton and I were the same weight at birth, had the same hair, an identical smile, and now the same heart. She died 143 days after she turned twenty-one. I know how to do math,” I interjected, and pulled the last sticky sensor off my chest from my EKG. I was never going to be the older sister, and it didn’t matter if anyone else understood. I did.

“Paisley—”

“My life, my thoughts.”

“Well, speaking of your thoughts…” She arched a well-maintained eyebrow. “Just what are you doing with Mr. California?”

“Jagger?” Saying his name elevated my heartbeat.

“Mmm-hmm. Last time I checked you were all but married to Will.” She kept going, despite my meanest glare. “Not that I object to Jagger. Gawd, Paisley, you sure can pick ’em. He’s utterly delicious.”

“We’re friends. Just friends!”

“Right, protest much, Lady MacBeth?” She examined her perfect manicure.

“Stop using your major against me, Morgan Elyse Bartley.” I sighed, trying to find the words. “He makes me feel…free. That’s something I haven’t had. He doesn’t treat me like I’m about to break.”

“That’s because he doesn’t know you’re breakable. I saw that coffee he brought you. You haven’t told him about your heart, otherwise he wouldn’t be bringing you caffeine.”

My cheeks heated, and I started to pick apart the embroidery on the Etsy-made hospital gown Mama bought me. “I don’t want him to know.”

“And Will?”

My chest tightened unpleasantly. “He knows I’m taking swim lessons from the guy who saved my life.”

“Mmm-hmm. That sure was a long three weeks he was gone for.”

“What are you getting at?” I narrowed my eyes.

“When you got to class yesterday, you were all gushy, and you said Will doesn’t get home until tonight, so it had to be because Jagger stopped by the library.” My mouth snapped shut. “I’m right, aren’t I? No judgment, darlin’. As your best friend, I wholeheartedly approve of anyone who brings you to life like that.”

“Seriously, he’s just a friend.”

“And my mama’s just a makeup lady.” She raised her eyebrow at me, since her mama was the top Mary Kay representative in southeast Alabama. “And what does Will know?”

“He’s fine with the lessons. He’s actually happy, since he studies so much.”

“Right, but does he know that you’re falling for Jagger?”

“I love Will! I most certainly am not—” The knocking at the door stopped my tirade before it got off to a proper start. “Come in.” I glared at Morgan for good measure.

Dr. Larondy walked in, a nurse wheeling in a laptop cart behind him. “Good mornin’, Paisley.” He pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Hey, Doc.” I put on my best smile.

“No parents today?”

“Nope. They don’t even know I’m here.”

“You little rebel, you.” He couldn’t have been older than forty, but the smile made him seem so much younger. “Let’s take a peek.” He pulled my chart and sighed, which was never a good sign.

“Tell me.”

Morgan took my hand.

“Your symptoms are progressing, which, of course, is something we didn’t want. Your EKG is showing arrhythmias—irregular rhythms in your heartbeat. With your hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, the present obstruction, and your family history of sudden cardiac death, well, we need to start a different treatment regimen. How have you been feeling?”

“I tire easily now,” I admitted as he scribbled into my chart. “And sometimes it’s hard for me to catch my breath, especially when my heart starts to pound, but passing out is new.”

“How long were you unconscious?”