Jonah returns with two coffees, just as I’ve finished both forms. He hands me one of the coffees and casually leans against his desk.

He’s been around for a few months now, and he still has no idea how much I hate coffee. This is why I don’t refer to him as Uncle Jonah yet.

“What was that all about?” he asks.

“His girlfriend hates me. Well . . . ex-girlfriend.” I take a sip of the coffee to be nice. It’s putrid.

“Shouldn’t be a problem then, right?”

I laugh. “You would think.” I hand him both the folders. “I filled them out, anyway. Don’t mention it to Miller. If he changes his mind, at least we’ll have met the deadline for signups.”

“I like the way you think,” Jonah says. He sets his coffee on his desk and picks up a piece of chalk. He’s writing the date on the board when two of my classmates walk in.

I go back to my seat. When the classroom begins to fill up, Jonah turns around and eyes the coffee on my desk. “Clara. Students aren’t allowed to have drinks in class. Do it again and I’ll give you detention.”

I roll my eyes at him, but I want to laugh at his ability to switch into teacher mode so easily, even if he is just toying with me. “Yes, Mr. Sullivan,” I say mockingly.

I trash the coffee, then pull out my phone and text Aunt Jenny on the way back to my seat.

Me: You busy?

Aunt Jenny: On my way to work.

Me: It’ll only take a sec. Two things. Your baby daddy is a smartass. Also, Miller and Shelby broke up. Not sure how long it’ll last.

Aunt Jenny: Why’d they break up? Because you gave him a ride?

Me: Apparently it was the Instagram follow that did it.

Aunt Jenny: That’s good news! Now you get to date the guy with the weird grandpa.

Me: I didn’t say his grandpa was weird. I said their relationship was adorably weird. Also, he’s trying to get his girlfriend back, so I don’t know that I have a chance.

Aunt Jenny: Oh, that stinks. Don’t pursue him, then. You don’t want to be the other girl. Trust me.

Me: You were the other girl once? I need to hear this story. Is that why you and Jonah broke up in high school?

The dots on my phone indicate Aunt Jenny is typing. I wait to hear about her juicy teenage drama, but the dots stop.

Me: I tell you everything. You can’t hint that you’ve had an affair and not elaborate.

Me: Jenny?

Me: Aunt Jenny?

“Clara, put your phone away.”

I drop my phone into my backpack with frightening speed. I don’t know who Aunt Jenny cheated with, but if Jonah doesn’t know about it, I don’t think him confiscating my phone and reading my texts would be good for their relationship.

I’ll call her at lunch and force her to tell me. Even if it involves Jonah, I want to know.

CHAPTER FIVE

MORGAN

I once heard someone say we’re all just one phone call away from our knees.

It’s the absolute truth. My voice comes out in a shaky whisper when I ask, “Is he okay?”

I wait for the nurse on the other end of the line to tell me that Chris will be fine. But all I get is a long stretch of silence. It feels like someone is wringing my spine like a wet towel. I want to double over from the pain, but the pain isn’t physical. It’s an intangible anguish that feels terminal.

“I don’t know details,” the nurse says. “All I know is that he was brought in a few moments ago, so try to get here as soon as possible.”

I choke out an okay before ending the call, but I’m almost positive she would have given me more information if the news were better.

If the news were better, Chris would have called me himself.

I’m holding Elijah. I was holding him when the phone rang, and now I’m clutching him even tighter, still on my knees. For at least a minute, I’m frozen on my living room floor. But then Elijah yawns, and it snaps me back into a grim reality.

I call Jenny first, but her phone goes to voice mail. It’s her first day back to work. She won’t have her phone on her until her lunch break. But word will spread fast at the hospital, and she’ll find out soon enough.

I start to call Jonah next so that he can come get Elijah, but I don’t even have his phone number saved in my phone. I rush to the sheet of paper Jenny left me this morning and enter the number she wrote down to reach him. It goes straight to voice mail. He’s in class.

I’ll call the school to get in touch with him soon, but every second I spend trying to contact someone is a second longer it’s going to take me to get to the hospital. I strap Elijah into his car seat, grab his diaper bag and my keys, and leave.

The trip to the hospital is a blur. I spend it whispering prayers and gripping the steering wheel and stealing glances at my phone resting in the passenger seat, waiting for Jenny to call me back.

I don’t call Clara at school yet. I need to know that Chris is okay before I worry her.

If they haven’t already notified Jenny that Chris was in a wreck, I’ll have them page her when I get inside. She can take Elijah then.

For now, he’s with me, so I take his diaper bag and his car seat and run toward the entrance. I’m faster than the automatic sliding doors of the emergency room. I’m forced to pause my sprint for a couple of seconds so they can open wide enough for me to enter. As soon as I’m inside, I go straight to the nurse’s desk. It’s a nurse I don’t recognize. I used to know almost everyone in this hospital because I thought it made Chris look good for me to know everyone at his office parties, but they come and go so often, I don’t even try to keep up anymore.

“Where’s my husband?” The words tumble out in a panic. Her eyes are sympathetic.

“Who is your husband?”

“Chris.” I gasp for air. “Chris Grant. He works here, and he was just brought in.”

Her expression changes when I say his name. “Let me get someone who can help you. I just got on shift.”

“Can you page my sister? She works here too. Jenny Davidson.”

The nurse nods but rushes away from the window without paging Jenny.

I set Elijah’s car seat on the closest chair. I try Jenny again and then Jonah’s cell phone again, but they both go straight to voice mail.

I don’t have time to wait on the nurse to figure out her shit. I call the hospital and ask for Labor and Delivery. They connect me after the most excruciating thirty seconds of hold time in my life.

“Labor and Delivery, how may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to Jenny Davidson. One of your nurses. It’s an emergency.”

“Hold, please.”

Elijah starts to cry, so I put my phone on speaker and set it in the chair so that I can pull him out of his car seat. I pace back and forth, waiting for Jenny to answer, waiting for a nurse, waiting for a doctor, waiting, waiting, waiting.

“Ma’am?”

I grab my phone. “Yes?”

“Jenny isn’t on schedule until tomorrow. She’s been out on maternity leave.”

I shake my head, frustrated. Elijah is growing more agitated. He’s hungry. “No, she started back this morning.”

There’s a moment of hesitation from the woman on the other line before she repeats herself. “She isn’t on schedule until tomorrow. I’ve been here all day, and she’s not here.”