“You’ve been with him since high school? That’s, like, forever!”

“We broke up when he got drafted.”

“To, like, the army?”

“No; the NHL.”

“Oh my God! No way! So wait—you broke up for, like, how long?”

“Eight years.”

“Holy shit. That’s a long time.”

I laugh again. “You’re right—it is. But last year he moved back to Minnesota, so … ”

“You got back together.” Her smile is wide, hopeful.

I keep the part to myself where I don’t know if he’s going to stay here with me this time, or whether he’ll have to take another contract somewhere else. She’s young; she has lots of time to learn about the highs and lows of relationships. “I’m going to test the sensation in your toes, okay?”

“Sure.”

I check for discomfort, sensation, and mobility. I’m grateful all of her responses are in the normal range.

“Will I make the metal detectors go off in airports now that I’m bionic?” Emery asks.

“Everything is titanium, but there’s still a chance.”

“I was hoping for the extra-thorough search the next time I go home. When I flew back at Christmas, there was a super-cute TSA agent I wouldn’t have minded getting a pat down from.” She wags her eyebrows. “I think I have a thing for men in uniforms.”

“And scrubs count as a uniform?”

She grins. “Maybe not the hottest uniform, but still a uniform.”

When I finish reviewing Emery’s chart, I let her know the doctor will be back to check on her in a while and that there’s a good possibility they’ll keep her at least overnight. “Are your parents on their way here?”

“Uh, no. They’re in Europe on some big monthlong trip.”

“Do they know you’ve had surgery?”

“Oh yeah. I called them as soon as the accident happened so I could get the insurance information and stuff. I told them it wasn’t that big of a deal. This is, like, the first time they’ve ever gone on a vacation for this long. I don’t want them to fly back because I broke a few bones.”

That’s an unusually mature way to handle having a bunch of pins and metal rods put in your leg. “Do you need someone to arrange for a ride back to your dorm later?”

“I have a place off campus with a roommate, and I have a car. I guess I’m lucky it’s my left leg and not my right, otherwise I’d have to take public transit for the next couple of months.”

“You didn’t drive yourself here, did you?” I can’t imagine that would’ve been safe.

“Oh no. The ambulance brought me straight from the soccer game. Someone will pick me up.”

“Okay, that’s good. Well, I’ll be around in a couple of hours to check on you. You’ll receive a follow-up appointment for next week before you leave.”

“Will you be around the next time I’m here?”

I smile. “It’s very possible.”

“Okay. Out of all the nurses, you’ve been the nicest, so it’d be cool if it was you doing all the poking business.”

“I’ll be back to check on you before my shift is over. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Emery. I hope that ankle heals up fast.”

What a sweet girl. I don’t like that she’s downplayed the injury to her parents, but she’s eighteen and legally an adult. By that age I was pretty much taking care of myself.

She’s asleep when I check on her before I leave for the night. She’ll be staying until morning. Dr. Lovely is being cautious, possibly because I mentioned that she has no family in Minnesota and she’s relying on her college roommate to help her.

The following evening I’m sitting in class, only half paying attention because Ethan keeps sending me messages, asking when I’m going to be at his house. And the messages keep coming. Have I eaten? Should he get Merk? Can I call in sick tomorrow? Can I walk around his house naked for the next twenty-four hours?

Eventually I stuff my phone in my bag, which is the exact moment we’re given a pop quiz on the information that’s just been shared by the professor. The information I haven’t been paying attention to because I’ve been fielding messages from Ethan. Whom I haven’t seen in a week.

I fumble my way through the quiz, angry at myself for being so distracted, certain there’s no way I’ve passed. To top off an already crappy class, we get our midterms back, and I’ve failed. Not by much—I have 63 percent and I need a 65 to pass—but I’ve never failed anything, so this mark is a kick in the pants.

The barely passing last semester and late assignments are bad enough, but failure is inexcusable, and I’m totally to blame for this. I allowed this to happen. I ignored the things that required my attention in lieu of time with Ethan, and that’s on me. By doing that I’ve put my own dream at risk, compromised my potential future.

I’d been so certain I’d have a place in the master’s program next year, but it’s highly competitive and these marks are going to pull my average down. I’m terrified that I might have screwed my future because I’m putting video chats with Ethan in front of my own goals.