Page 55 of The Infinite Light of Dust

“Let’s worry about that later. You both need to rest and recover so you can go home,” I told them.

“I don’t have a home, and no offense, I never want to go to your place again,” Fischer confessed, rightfully so.

“How’s El?” Mendoza asked Fischer.

“I don’t know, she hasn’t been here.” Fischer’s eyes met the floor.

“I’m sure it’s because she doesn’t want Phillips to come here, since he’s still running loose for now,” I reminded him.

“My sister is in bad shape too,” he added, looking back up at me.

“I’ll worry about your sister, you worry about yourself and Elodie. And you”—I gestured at Mendoza—“you worry about yourself only. Your good deeds are done for the year. Got it?”

“Got it.” He saluted me and the three of us laughed. Even in this completely fucked-up situation, wounded and unsure of what was coming next, we managed to laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” A nurse walked into the room, a look of disapproval on her round face.

Fischer turned on his charm and flashed a big flirty smile at her, and of course it worked. “I had to check on my friend. He almost died for me, the least I could do was crawl over here.”

“That’s sweet and all, but you need to get back to your bed before I get in trouble for losing my patient. And there’s someone here to see you.” The nurse checked the watch on her wrist and scanned the three of us with her gaze. “You have two minutes. I’ll tell your visitor you’ll be back then.”

“Is it a young woman with light-brown hair?” I asked the nurse, wondering if it was Karina, but hoping to god she was still in bed at their father’s house.

The nurse shook her head. “No. She says she’s his mother.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Karina

The bedroom was dark except for the little blue light on the humidifier perched on the nightstand. Estelle had really gone all out in her role as my nurse and caretaker. A humidifier, candles, a heated blanket, a fresh tray of food. My mind was still a bit foggy as I pushed myself up to sitting. I rolled my neck in circles, trying to relieve a bit of the ache from lying down for so long. I couldn’t find my phone without any light, and panic settled in, growing by the second as I moved the heavy blankets around.

“Are you okay?” Estelle entered the room, flicking on the light.

She turned the dimmer down as I covered my face from the shocking light. Her outfit was different from the last time I saw her, but still extremely casual compared to what I was used to seeing her wear.

“Do you know where my phone is?” I asked as she got closer.

“In the drawer.” She pulled the top drawer of the nightstand closest to me open and handed me my phone.

The power was off, which gave me even more anxiety. As the phone turned on, notifications came through. A few texts from Elodie asking how and where I was. Gloria’s name popped up, and I held my breath. I would never forget the way she’d looked at me, full of hatred. My heart was broken, but I couldn’t feel sorry for myself because she was right. If I hadn’t gone to Kael’s, none of this would have happened. Pushing through my fear and pain, I clicked on her name and read the message.

I’m so sorry for what I said. We should talk in person, be safe and please try not to take what I said to heart. I didn’t mean it. I took my anger out on you and I’m so sorry.

Reading her message filled me with two types of emotions. On the one hand, I was relieved, and felt like I could breathe again, but on the other, I felt undeserving of her forgiveness. When tragedy happened, it was much easier for everyone involved to have a clear villain, and I was more than willing to take on that role for the sake of those around me. Especially Gloria, who had been so welcoming and kind to me from the beginning. Her life would never be the same now.

I stared at my phone, unsure how to respond, and decided to wait until my thoughts were clearer and I could give her a better reply. I looked up at Estelle, who was standing over me, her brows pushed together in worry.

“I know you probably don’t feel like it, but can you please try and eat some crackers? Or the broth? You’ll get sick again if you don’t.” Her request came softly, borderline maternal.

Instead of being snotty to her, I agreed, and reached for the tray of food. She beat me to it, grabbing it and setting it on my lap.

“Kael came by,” she told me as I took a sip of broth. I almost spit it out.

“When?”

“A few hours ago. You were asleep, so he said he would come back.”

I wanted to vent to her about how selfish I felt, how I knew that I was suffering the least out of everyone, and that I felt like a freaking idiot for feeling so defeated, so exhausted, so afraid. I wasn’t the one whose husband wasn’t going to walk again, I wasn’t the one who had an actual screwdriver sticking out of them, I wasn’t the one whose husband had caused all of this and was now nowhere to be found. I was just a stupid girl who’d thrown herself into the middle of the fire and was now being babied by her stepmom.

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