Page 39

He nods, his eyes remaining on the road.

I stare at his profile for another minute, trying to decide if there is anything I can say, ask, to make this better.

The traffic is much lighter this time of night, and he moves easily into the city, seeming to know the way to my campus apartment.

But I remain silent because I’ve tried twice to ask questions, and he’s shut me down both times.

We reach the edge of campus, and he pulls up to the curb, stopping the car. “Am I close enough to your apartment?”

“Yeah. This is great.” I don’t look at him, searching for the doorhandle instead. Now that I’m here, I just want to leave the car, go lay in my bed and cry my eyes out. Then I’m going to figure out what the hell I do if he fires me on Monday.

I open the door and start to step down, sliding from the seat. “Honeyeh.”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll talk on Monday, all right. When we’ve cooled off and reason prevails.”

“Sure,” I say, my voice cracking. “Monday. Sounds good. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

My feet drop to the ground and then I’m stepping around the door, slamming it shut. I practically run from the car, and I don’t look back, but I hear Triston pull away.

The sob I’ve been clamping down breaks from my lips as the tears start to stream down my cheeks.

I make it to my apartment, getting the key in the lock on the third try, my tears making the task ridiculously difficult. It has to be after one in the morning, but Darius is watching TV when I come in. “How was it?” he asks, his eyes on the television.

“Good.” Now is not the time to tell him that I may have just ruined the best job I’ve ever had.

I dart for my tiny bedroom, closing the door behind me before I toss myself on the bed and plant my face in my pillow, letting it swallow all my tears.

I have no idea how long I cry or what time it is before I finally fall asleep, but when my phone rings, jolting me awake, I have no idea what time it is, only that the sun is high in the sky.

I blink, not even sure where my phone is, when it rings again. Swimming out of the fog, I realize that it’s in my bag.

Stumbling off the bed, I sway as I cross the floor and then drop to my knees. Pulling open the bag, I finally find the phone just as it stops ringing.

My shoulders sag, wondering who might be calling. Was it Triston? Did he want to talk about last night?

Does he just want to fire me today and get it over with?

The phone starts ringing again and I jump, turning it over in my hand to see who is calling.

But it isn’t Triston’s name. It’s Dr. Lawrence. My breath catches as I accept the call. “Hello?”

“Honeyeh?”

“Yes. Dr. Lawrence. Hi.” I stop, not even sure what question to ask. Why are you calling me on a Saturday?

“Hi. Did I wake you?”

Shoot. “No. I mean, it’s fine. I had a late-night work event yesterday.”

He makes a noise of understanding. “I’m calling because I have some news.”

My breath catches in my throat. “What’s that?”

“This is always delicate, but a potential donor has been identified for Darius.”