Chapter Seventeen

I WAS HIT IN the face with the sterile smell of white, if that’s even possible, as Dean and I entered the Murray Regional Hospital. The place was pretty nice, and I was sure the pins-and-needles feeling was just nerves. This is going to be just like reading a football player’s mind—quick and easy, I thought. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of the last time I’d been here, in the ER with broken ribs. I had been so totally out of it that I didn’t really remember much.

“This way,” Dean said, angling down a hall and stopping at an elevator directory. “We need to be on the third floor.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dean asked me for the tenth time.

“Yeah, it’s my decision,” I said. I had to be firm with myself.

Dean and I loaded ourselves onto the elevator, rode it up, and got off on the third floor, the Intensive Care Unit. A nurse sitting at a semicircle desk looked up at us.

“Can I help you boys?” she asked.

I almost turned around and ran. Why was this so hard? Dean noticed my hesitation and answered, “Yeah, um, we’re here to see Stephanie Daniels.”

The nurse looked us over. “It’s sort of late and past visiting hours, you two,” she said, a stern look on her face.

Dean gave her one of his charming smiles. “This is her boyfriend,” he said, slinging an arm around my neck. I did my best to look sheepish.

She sighed and looked at her watch a second time. “Have a seat in the waiting room and I’ll go check for you,” she said, either defeated or tired. She pointed to a door in the corner of the hallway. Inside, Dean and I took seats across from each other.

“Nice save,” I told Dean.

“The perfect cover,” he replied.

He was right. I was here for Stephanie, but that pins-and-needles feeling wasn’t because of her. Sitting in that waiting room, I was the closest I’d been to Dad in months. The Murray Institute psych wing was a just a mere elevator ride away. I’d seen the location on the directory. Even being in Dad’s vicinity made me shudder. I supposed there was a part of me that knew this when making the choice to come here. What did I expect? Dad was just going to jump out of nowhere, wielding a knife, wildly swinging at me, trying to finish the job he’d started that night? Ridiculous as that sounded, I felt like I was stepping into some kind of trap.

The ward nurse appeared at the door of the waiting room carrying a stack of charts. “You’ve got five minutes, and just you,” she said. “I don’t need any problems.” Without the full use of her arms, she motioned with her head. “Room 203, just down the hall there.”

I thanked her and stood. I looked back at Dean and he gave me a thumbs-up.

“I’ll be here,” he said, supporting me. It didn’t help much. My anxiety began to ramp up even more for what I was about to do. I started thinking about how much I just wanted to leave now, to run back to the car and abandon this bad, stupid idea.

I began to move down the hallway. A reason—I needed to give myself a reason. What was I doing this for anyway? Guilt, I guessed. It was a relief that she wasn’t dead, of course, but deep down I felt responsible for what had happened. I might have even been the last one she talked to before the accident. I owed it to Stephanie to try.

Room 203—I made it. Loitering outside the door, I heard the sound of monitors and machines beeping and wheezing from within, but I couldn’t see Stephanie. A dark, thick curtain hid her from view. Wait a second—what if her parents were in there? They most likely would be. What would I say to them?

Hi, I’m Nolan. The guy who stole your daughter’s belief in true love and crushed it, only to find out that the guy she likes really does like her in return. Too bad she’s in a coma now. Rotten luck. Rotten luck? Who says that?

This little outing had turned into an embarrassment, yet one thing had stuck in my head. Greg really did like Stephanie. Heck, maybe even loved her. That was between them. I knew the truth—Stephanie did not. That was when my original idea hit again. I imagined seeing Kate’s cute face lighting up as if she’d thought of it herself.

If I could extract information from someone’s mind, why couldn’t I plant information? It reminded me of that one movie—oh, what was it called? The one where the team broke into someone’s dream to plant an idea? It didn’t matter. My plan was ready and my avenue was set.

Just then a hand drew back part of the curtain and a young guy came around it wearing dark-blue scrubs, almost running into me.

“Oh, howdy. You here for Steph?”

His question was so casual and nonchalant—cool, even. His hair was all gelled up, something that looked like it took him hours each morning to perfect. He pressed his hand against the side of his mouth as if telling me a secret.

“You’re the boyfriend…right?”

I was just as shocked at his statement as I’d been when Dean said it, but then again, it was the perfect cover. I nodded and the guy gave me a wink.

“I gotcha. Perfect timing, too—her parents are getting something to eat. You’ve got her all to yourself.” He leaned down a bit more and said, “That is, if you don’t mind me in the room. I’ve got to make some checks.”

Shrugging my shoulders, trying to act as cool as he was, I replied, “No problem.”

He stepped aside and let me pass. I could feel my body tremble, knees almost buckling as I walked into the room. Was I ready for this? Could I handle seeing Stephanie?