Page 106 of Dead Set on You
He opens his mouth. Closes it. “I—I’m sorry,” he says, looking like he may actually want to be farther away from here than even me. The apology—the pain in it—sends a wave of panic rolling through me. Then another.
“What’s happening? Tell me.” I’m almost begging. A beeping noise cuts through the pounding in my head. I need someone to turn it off.
Rafael sighs as his body curves ever so slightly inward. “I thought we had more time.” Those six words make my ghost plasma run cold.
“What is it?” I whisper. “Did they taper off the sedation? Is time up?” The nausea spikes again, hard and fast, battling for control of my (not) body. The edges of the hallway start to blur.
“That’s not it, E,” he says. I don’t know if I should be confused or scared or both, judging by the way he looks utterly lost. “I should’ve tried harder to figure out how to bring you back. I should’ve found other doctors. Specialists.” He swallows. “Instead, I let myself think I could help you figure it out.”
“You have been helping,” I say quickly, firmly. “You’ve done more than anyone else.”
Rafael sighs shakily. “Did I?”
I don’t answer, because he’s not asking me. He’s asking himself.
“What happened, Raf?”
His eyes meet mine. “Gemma—”
Confused, I blink at Rafael. “What about her? Is she okay?” A different kind of worry blooms—tight and cold. Because if something happened to Gemma … I can’t fathom …
“No—she’s fine,” he says quickly, but his restlessness gives him away as he shifts from one leg to another, like he’s trying to dodge the weight of what comes next. “It’s just … she went looking for your family.” A pause. “For your mom.”
The words sink in, digging their teeth deep, deep down. My breath catches. My knees wobble. I stumble, surprised I haven’t disintegrated into a pool of plasma already. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“She left for Michigan the other day.” Rafael darts a look to the room, then back to me. “To find Margot.”
My mother’s name unlocks something I’ve long buried. “And?” I ask, swallowing past the rush of emotions. Gemma knew about Margot—I’ve shared bits and pieces without allowing my mother to own too much of my present, my relationships, my life.
“She went looking for her because she didn’t know if you’d recover … and thought your mom should know,” Rafael says. “And she found her.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. Hollow and humorless. “I can’t imagine howthatwent.” Margot—with her rehearsed tears and rotating boyfriends. If she even remembered me at all, it would’ve been for how inconvenient I made her life.
“Not well,” Rafael says.
Relief prickles through me, chased quickly by hurt. I nod. Of course it didn’t go well. Margot doesn’t care. Fifteen years didn’t change her stripes.
“I—that’s okay,” I manage, feeling the need to reassure Rafael that it’s better that way.
But then I hear them. Muffled voices. From inside the room. My stomach drops. I glance past Rafael’s shoulder, then back to him. And that’s when I see it. He’s not just standing in front of the door; he’s blocking it. “Who’s in there?”
Rafael meets my gaze, and I instantly know.
“No,” I breathe. The hallway tilts again. “No, no, no.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTTWELVE DAYS AFTER, PART II
Margot is here. At the hospital.
She’s feet away.
I feel unsteady.
“Evie?” Rafael’s voice is laced with concern. He leans in, his eyes scanning my face.
I take a deep breath, then another.
“Why is she here?” I ask, breathless. Rafael pales. Stalls. “Rafael?”
