Page 24 of Broken Secrets

“You’d come to the cardiologist with me?”

“Of course! I’ll bring snacks and magazines for the waiting room. We’ll make a whole day of it.” Her smile softens. “That’s what best friends are for.”

I throw my arms around her, holding tight to this person who loves me exactly as I am, family secrets and all.

“Thank you,” I whisper into her shoulder. “For not making me feel crazy. For being excited about Derek. For still wanting to be my friend even though I’ve been distant and weird.”

“You could never get rid of me that easily,” Maya says, pulling back to look at me. “We’re stuck together, remember? Like peanut butter and jelly.”

“Even if this gets messier?”

“Especially if this gets messier. That’s when you need your people the most.”

At home, the house is quiet. My mom’s portfolio bag sits by the front door, meaning she’s working late at the studio again. Robert’s in his office, the soft glow of his computer screen visible under the door.

I climb the stairs to my room, Maya’s excitement still buzzing in my veins. My phone buzzes with a text from Derek.

DEREK

How was dinner with Maya? Feeling better?

I smile, typing back.

ME

Much better. Maya’s already planning our prom outfits.

DEREK

Should I be worried about how elaborate this is going to get?

ME

Very worried. She mentioned something about a color-coordinated timeline.

DEREK

I’m terrified and impressed. See you tomorrow?

ME

Definitely. Thank you for being patient with me today.

DEREK

Always. Sweet dreams, Liv.

I set my phone aside and change into pajamas, feeling more settled than I have in days.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Derek’s carcrunches over the gravel in the medical complex parking lot, tires finding a spot between a minivan with soccer ball stickers and a sedan that’s seen better days. The engine ticks as it cools, and through the windshield, I can see the building that holds my answers—a beige brick structure that looks more like an office park than a place where people find out if their hearts are trying to kill them.

I’ve been clutching the yellow sticky note Mom gave me this morning for the entire twenty-minute drive, my sweaty palm making the edges curl. The small square of paper feels heavier than it should, like it’s made of lead instead of cheap office supplies.

He shifts into park but doesn’t turn off the engine right away. “You’ve been holding that thing like it’s going to explode.”

“Maybe it will.” I stare down at the folded note, Mom’s careful handwriting visible through the thin paper. “What if it’s worse than I thought? Like something she didn’t tell me on Saturday?”