Page 88 of Reasons We Break

Silence. Trevor pales. “It was an—”

“Why the fuck was it on the roof?”he screams. He’s lost it and he doesn’t care, all he can see is a hammer that never should’ve been there, a tarp that was loose, zip ties that were gone, and a blur of people he can’t trust.

He backs away. They let him, watching warily.

Trevor sighs. “Kid, at least go to the hospital. You can’t sleep that off.”

Rajan doesn’t answer, because he can’t think straight. He doesn’t like hospitals. Jesus Christ. Thishurts.

“They’ll at least dope you up,” someone else adds quietly. And, pathetically,thatgets him thinking as he trudges off the worksite. No one stops him. But he hears thatthumpagain behind him—when he looks, it’s just the wind knocking heavy tarps against the wall. That’s all it was...right?

He takes the bus to the hospital, wincing with the jolt of every pothole. He’s suddenly learning all the other hits he took on the way down. He closes his eyes to the pain and again sees that hammer on the roof. Is he losing it or was thatdefinitelynot there before?

At the hospital, the triage nurse directs him to the waiting room. It’s crammed. His eyes snag on the woman holding a bucket for a little girl to barf into. God, he wishes he had one of those right now. A few rows away, a guy rocks back and forth, clearly tweaking. The security guards nearby are eyeing him. Too much déjà vu. Rajan hasn’t been in a hospital since...

Anyway.

He scans for a patch of floor to sit. There. By a lady with a ponytail. It’s only when he makes his way over that he realizes he knows her.

“Kat?”he blurts.

She’s not in her preppy dress from earlier; she sits cross-legged on the floor in a black full-sleeve shirt and loose-fitting jeans. When she sees him, she smiles wanly.

“Hello, Rajan,” she says, like it’s normal for them to rendezvous in ER waiting rooms. Her eyes flit to how he’s holding his arm. “Did you...dislocate your shoulder somehow?”

“How wouldyouknow?” He’s wearing a big hoodie, it’s not obvious. He squints at her, that paranoid edge returning as he recalls her parting words from earlier. “How thefuckdid you know I was gonna get hurt today?”

His voice carries; out of the corner of his eye, the security guards straighten.

“Rajan,” Kat says calmly. “Please sit.”

“Answer me first.” Some part of him knows he’s being irrational, but his longstanding paranoia, combined with the mind-numbing pain, makes it hard to see it that way. “You had weeks to tell me to be careful and you chose today. What kind of fucking coincidence is that?”

One of the security guards comes up to him. “All right, buddy. Leave the lady alone.”

Rajan opens his mouth to tell him off, not caring that he’ll get kicked out, but then Kat’s on her feet, holding a hand up. “It’s fine. He’s my—” She stops, and turns to Rajan. “Today’s the day my son died.”

He blinks. That was the last thing he was expecting her to say.

“Eighth anniversary. He was nineteen.” Her throat bobs. “I always worry more about people on this day. Please, sit.”

She’s struggling to meet his eyes, and that’s what sells him. His anger fades. This is the least fake she’s ever been.

He sinks onto the floor next to her. Kat sits again, too, her expression composed once again. They’re silent until the guards retreat to their corner. Rajan wants to ask her more, but another question distracts him first. “Why’reyouhere?”

Kat merely says, “Did you get anything for pain? You’re sweating.”

Rajan raises his good hand to his forehead. She’s right. Huh.

Kat presses her fingers to his wrist, making him jump. “Your pulse is high. It must really hurt.”

He jerks away. “The fuck, Kat? You want to read my mind next?”

“Sorry.” She looks anything but. “You know, I have military training. I could put your shoulder back.”

“I’m sorry,military training? Who even are you?”

Kat’s smile widens, genuine amusement entering her eyes. “Will you let me try?”