the same with my other shoe. Then he grabs my jeans and pulls them clean off. He stands in front of me and carefully folds my pants before placing them on the same chair he’d set my shirt, then he grabs the hospital gown and holds it so I can carefully slide it on. He circles behind me, tying the strings around the back of my neck. Finally, he grips the lower strings, creating a flutter of air that hits my nearly bare ass, making me flush again.
“So, Rose hates hospitals? Bad experience? Epic fear?”
“She hasn’t told you about her mom?”
He moves the two chairs near my bed and takes a seat. “Her mom? That’s right. She was sick. God, I don’t remember the details, though.”
“She had ovarian cancer and basically lived in the hospital for most of our senior year.” Normally, I wouldn’t share someone else’s secrets, but Rose has openly talked about her mom’s experience since it all occurred.
Arlo’s face turns ashen, remorse evident as he sits silently, likely rerunning previous conversations in his head. “I had no idea.” He shakes his head. “Is she okay?”
“She passed away before we graduated.”
Arlo clamps a hand across his chest, like hearing this causes him physical pain.
The curtain is pulled back, and a man with dark hair that is silver at the temples appears. He has a pronounced widow’s peak and a hook in his nose. “Olivia?” he asks. “I’m Doctor Johnston. I hear you had an accident and have some glass stuck in your side?”
Arlo climbs to his feet, catching the doctor’s attention. They exchange a quick handshake, and then Dr. Johnston is behind me, looking at the wound at my side. “It looks like it’s pretty shallow, but long enough, I think we should do a few stitches. You’re slender, and if we just use a bandage, I think it will keep opening and make a mess and possibly get infected.”
“Stitches?” The word makes my skin turn cold as the mental image arises. “Are you sure we can’t just use a big bandage?”
He chuckles like I’m trying to be funny when that’s the last thing I’m attempting.
A nurse enters with a little pushcart, and the conversation fades into background noise as my skin feels too warm and clammy, and my ears start to ring.
“Hey, Liv,” Arlo says, taking my left hand in his. He moves the empty chair, so he’s in my direct line of sight and nods when I look at him. “Let’s talk Texas. What’s the best thing to eat when you get back there?”
“Chimichangas,” I tell him without hesitation.
He nods again. “Do you have a favorite restaurant to get them at?”
“Familia Mesa.”
“Do they do them upright with all the fixings?”
“Their salsa will make you cry, though.”
He laughs, running his thumb over the back of my hand.
“Okay, Olivia, you’re going to feel a pinch, and then it’s going to feel cold, okay?” Dr. Johnston says, moving the cart as the scents of antiseptic and saline burn my nose.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get to Texas?” Arlo asks.
I imagine the sun, the heat enveloping me like a hug. Then I feel the needle at my side.
Arlo dips his face to keep his gaze even with mine, balancing me. “You know what? When we go check out the aquarium this week, we’re going to have to stop at the gum wall and then hit up Pike’s Place and have you catch a fish.” His accent, which is fairly light most of the time, is thicker.
“Gum wall?”
He grins. “It’s disgusting.”
I laugh over the doctor telling me how he’s going to start cleaning my wound.
“All right, you love Texas, and I get that. Now tell me about the theater. How’d you get started? What inspired you?”
“My mom’s best friend used to do community theater. She taught at my high school in Texas and helped watch me when my mom worked late, so I was around it all the time. I spent my afternoons sitting in the gymnasium watching practices and rehearsals, and when I got old enough to stay home, I continued going because I just loved watching.”
“But you don’t want to participate?”
I lift my shoulder. “Even without the stage fright, I don’t know that I’d want to. There’s a special kind of magic that takes place from the sidelines as you direct and make it become a seamless, beautiful, and consistent work of art.”
“Your face would draw sold-out crowds,” he tells me. “Especially with that