I was far from okay, and I needed to be that way. I didn’t want to spend half my time lying to people about how I was coping when in all honesty, I was barely hanging on, but barely coping on my own was easier because I could do that without the pressure from other people to do better than barely hang on.

Once a day Claudia would FaceTime to check in. That was beyond harrowing—to have to keep using the phrase, “There’s no change.”

With Jake, though, it was even harder.

My insides churned with guilt that Andie was lying in a hospital bed and I hadn’t spoken to her in months. The thought… the thought that she might die, that I might never have a chance to say another word to her after having spent the last few months choosing Jake over her and avoiding her…

I leaned against the nearest wall to catch my breath.

This was my fault. Andie’s accident. I knew that deep in my bones. Although there was some part of me that knew it wasn’t rational, I worried that somehow I’d interrupted fate all those years ago when I’d knocked Andie out of the way of Mr. Finnegan’s SUV. Was this fate’s way of punishing me?

I didn’t know if that was true or not.

What I did know was that I was definitely being punished for treating her so badly.

And the reason for my falling-out with her… well, it was Jake. I couldn’t get that out of my head.

Looking down at my phone, I fought the urge to smash it underfoot. I had to call Jake back or he would only keep trying.

After making my way outside, I found a quiet spot.

His face appeared on my phone screen and I felt a painful grip in my chest. Just looking at him made me feel a horrible mix of relief and shame.

“Baby,” he said in greeting, his dark eyes filled with concern and love. “How’s it going?”

I shook my head, looking away from the screen for a moment. “Same.”

“She’ll come out of this, Charley. Andie’s strong. She’s a Redford.”

Biting my lip to stem the tears, I shrugged loosely. “We’ll see.”

“You’ve got to stay positive.”

“I know.”

“Charley? Charley, look at me.”

I did as he asked, turning my head back to the screen.

His expression was tender. “I can come back. If you need me, I can come home.”

“No,” I said adamantly, my pulse racing just at the thought. “You have to finish up there. I… I’m better on my own,” I said honestly. “I feel like I don’t have to worry so much about worrying everyone else when I’m on my own.”

“I get it,” he said and I knew that he did. “You’re not completely alone, though, right? Your mom and dad and Rick are there.”

“Yeah, but… I guess we’re all dealing with it differently.” I didn’t even want to think about how much this had broken my parents. My parents had always been larger-than-life characters who could deal with anything life threw their way. But this… they seemed older, more fragile, and every time they looked upon Andie in that hospital bed, I could see another crack form in the armor they’d worn their whole lives.

That scared me just as much as the sight of my sister in a coma.

“I better get back,” I whispered, my throat constricting.

“Okay, baby,” he said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I hung up and stuffed the phone in my pocket.

Okay, baby. I love you.

I love you too.

But I hate you too. I hate me too.

Trembling, I sucked in a huge gulp of air and tried to calm myself. After a minute or so, I felt a little more together and walked back into the hospital.

I’d barely left my sister’s side. The only time I did leave the hospital was to go back to Rick and Andie’s for a shower. My parents tried to get some sleep there, but I just couldn’t sit in that house. It was filled with Andie. Her pictures, her perfume, her things, her work, her clothes, and the funny refrigerator magnets she collected.

I’d gone into the kitchen to get some orange juice and I’d stopped at the sight of the magnets. In the middle was the black and white one I’d found during my sophomore year at Purdue. When we were younger, my sister was obsessed with pirates. I’d never forgotten the many times I found myself sitting on a sofa cushion in the middle of my parents’ living room floor with my hands bound behind my back while my sister stood triumphant on the arm of the sofa, a patch over her eye. With that, she’d command her invisible crew to haul anchor and her ship (the sofa) would sail off, leaving me to die on deserted island (the cushion) for betraying her to the navy.

The black and white fridge magnet had the words “To Err is Human, to Arr is Pirate” printed over a skull and crossbones. When I’d given it to Andie, she’d laughed so hard, she cried.

At the sight of the magnet, I collapsed.

My mom found me and held me while I let it all out.

I’d refused to stay in that house for any longer than the length of a shower since.

Returning to the hospital room with coffee and sandwiches for both me and Rick, I found him sitting close to Andie, holding her hand in both of his. When he heard me come in, he ducked his head and swiped at the tears I knew he hoped I hadn’t seen.

Placing the coffee and sandwich down beside him, I didn’t offer him comfort or bring up his grief, because I think he needed to feel strong in all this. Rick wasn’t a stupid guy—he could see my parents were barely holding it together and I knew he felt some obligation to be strong for us all. It was no use attempting to convince him otherwise. It was just the person he was.

I sat back in my chair and sipped at my coffee.

“You better open that sandwich,” Rick said softly.

He started to eat his slowly and I felt a pang in my stomach.

I guess I was a little hungry.

Nibbling at it, I listened to the sounds of the monitors around my sister.

“She was mad at herself too, you know,” Rick suddenly said.

I almost choked on the bite of sandwich as I sucked in air. After a sip of coffee, I asked, voice hoarse, “What do you mean?”

“You’re not to blame for the argument, Charley. It happened. The two of you are stubborn.”

“I should’ve called,” I said flatly. “I should’ve been here.”

“‘Should haves’ only hurt you, kiddo. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Why? Aren’t you doing that to yourself?”

We stared at each other a moment until Rick finally sighed and looked back at Andie. “I should’ve married her sooner. She wanted to get married right away. I should’ve done it.”

After a moment of silence, I whispered, “I should have put her first.”

“What?”

I glanced up at Rick. “Nothing.”

His phone rang and he excused himself. I took the opportunity to shimmy forward in my chair and clutch my sister’s hand. “I’m sorry I chose Jake over you, Andie. I’m so sorry.”

I kissed her hand and screwed my eyes shut and for the first time in a long time, I prayed. I prayed that God could hear me… I prayed that if He could, I’d be repentant. My penance—If you save her, I’ll give him up. If Andie wakes up, I’ll let Jake go. I’ll choose her over him.

I hurried into the hospital, my hair damp, eyes heavy with lack of sleep. I always hurried back after a quick shower. I didn’t want to miss anything.

We were on day fourteen.

I felt hope sliding through my fingers, the tips grasping for purchase.

“Charley!” My mom’s eyes were bright, brighter than I’d seen them in fourteen days, as she strode down the corridor from my sister’s room.

“What? What is it? What’s happened?”

“Andie started choking,” Mom said, her words rushed and excited. “She’s breathing on her own. She’s awake, Charley. She’s awake.”

I burst out crying. “Awake?” I sobbed, overwhelmed by the relief flooding me.

“She’s in and out.” Mom tugged on my arm, pulling me toward the room. “The doctor says it might take a day or two for her to come fully around. But she’s out of the coma.”

I froze in the doorway of my sister’s hospital room, suddenly paralyzed with fear.

I watched as Mom, Dad, and Rick hovered over her while the doctor spoke. The ventilator was gone and although her eyes where shut, Andie’s lids fluttered. She moved her head and emitted a small groan.

I pressed back against the door, fighting the urge to flee.

Andie was awake. She was going to make it.

In amongst the relief I felt a wave of nausea, and I ducked outside the door to press my forehead against the cool wall.

My bargain with God.

I had to let Jake go somehow.

Trembling, I took out my phone and called him. This time I didn’t use FaceTime.

I told him Andie was awake. I ignored his relief. I ignored his love. I had to in order to say what I needed to say. I told him not to call me anymore. I told him it was over. And then I hung up and switched my phone off.

I dashed into the nearest bathroom and made the toilet right as I threw up. After a while, I was just dry heaving.

I gave Jake up for Andie and I didn’t even know if she forgave me. What if she hated me? What could I say?

And worse… how could I face her when there was a darkness deep inside me that resented her and the choice I’d just made?

I never did go into the hospital room again.

During the first twenty-four hours, I hovered outside, looking in through the windows, ignoring my parents’ and Rick’s pleas to come inside and speak to Andie while she slept.

The next day when Andie became cognizant, I did the same—hiding and peeking in when I was sure she wasn’t aware. The doctors said she had a recovery period ahead. She was a little dazed, confused, and although she recognized everyone, she couldn’t remember much before the accident.

I hid out at Starbucks a lot and on the third day, Dad hunted me down to bring me to Andie.

“I told her you were here,” he said, disappointment and annoyance in his eyes. He didn’t like the way I was behaving. Hiding from her. He didn’t understand.

“Did she ask for me?” If she asked for me, I’d have to go to her.

Dad frowned. “No.”

“Does she remember the argument?”

Dad scratched his unshaven cheek and looked away uncomfortably. “I think so.”

“Then I’m staying right where I am.”

A week later I returned home to Lanton with my parents without having spoken to my sister. I’d spied on her a lot as she sat talking to friends and family, but she’d had no idea I was there.

Andie was recovering fast—she had some physical and mental therapy to go through, but the doctors were impressed with how well she was doing and Rick insisted he could take care of her.

Mom and Dad had to get back to work, but they told Rick they’d come to Chicago every weekend until Andie was fully recovered. They seemed stronger back in Chicago. They seemed like themselves again.

But when we returned to Lanton, I realized it was all a mask for Andie’s benefit. That fragility that had scared me so much reappeared. Mom started disappearing to the cemetery almost every day—it pissed me off. I thought it was morbid. I was helping Mom out in the florist a lot because she was so distracted all the time. She was constantly calling Rick or Dad for reassurances. I realized that she and Dad were both afraid that someone was going to tell them that Andie’s recovery was a sick joke—that any minute now, she’d close her eyes and never open them again. As for Dad, he didn’t talk to me much in those first few months.

As far as he was concerned, I’d abandoned Andie as soon as she woke up.

I hadn’t abandoned her.

I just didn’t know how to face her, or deal with my conflicting emotions.

I missed my sister. I missed Jake. So much, it hurt. Especially at night, when I’d lay my head on my pillow and I couldn’t think of anything else but how much I wanted my life to go back to the way it used to be.

I argued with myself over and over that what I’d promised God… it wasn’t rational, I couldn’t be held to it. But what if…

What if I accepted Jake back into my life, what if I made my family accept him into their lives, and suddenly, Andie’s eyes closed and they never opened again?

It was a little better when Claudia finished up in Edinburgh and flew to Indiana to live with us. She eased my parents, lit them up in a way I couldn’t right now. She eased me too. I felt like I was forever on the brink of an argument with my folks, and Claudia always reminded me that they didn’t need to deal with my issues right now. So we suffered in stilted silence.

The only time it broke was when I yelled at Mom for visiting the cemetery. I told her it was morbid and it creeped me out—like she was just waiting for something bad to happen to Andie.

Mom told me calmly but with tears in her eyes that she was visiting her mom’s grave. “She’s the only one who would understand what I’m going through right now. I talk to her and I know she can hear and it gives me comfort.”

At that, she’d walked out of the house and my dad said more than two sentences to me for the first time in weeks. He shouted at me for being self-involved and told me to apologize.

I did. I tucked my tail between my legs and apologized.

And then I promptly went online and found out what I needed to do to sit the LSATs in the fall. I’d upset my parents enough this year. It was time to do something for them—something selfless.