Page 29 of Dead Set on You
Still, we came up through the ranks together, never much further ahead than the other—not for lack of trying on my part.We each have our own teams now and manage several accounts. Even our cubes are shoved across from each other’s, a cruel joke brought about by the age of “collaborative” workspaces.
Somehow he’s made everyone a friend along the way, and I … well, I’ve made myself indispensable—with Dana, with leadership, with my clients. I built a reputation rooted in reliability and results so I could be someone they needed because I needed Media Lab more. The money. The stability. The means to keep myself from falling back into the poverty and chaos (and mother) I spent my life attempting to outrun.
So it’s more than justwork. For both of us.
Rafael steps toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I cut him off, slipping between him and the door to block his exit. The truth is terrible and hard to face, but I need him to stay. I need him to help me weave together the rest of how I got here so I can figure out how to get out of here. This hospital. That bed. And that gown.
I make myself tall, hating that I’ve tossed my shoes aside. His brow lifts in a way that tells me I’m ridiculous to even try because he can walk through me, of course. “Rafael.”
“Evie.” His stern tone matches mine.
We’ve been here before. Needing something from the other but not quite asking for it. Call it rivalry. Call it pride. A mix of the two has always drawn the line in the sand between us. Dana once joked that he and I could dominate the industry if we put our talents together. I scoffed. Rafael laughed. And not once did I think I’d be the one to shift the stalemate by backing down from a challenge, or worse yet, asking for help.
“One more question.” I clutch my hands behind my back, waiting to see if he’ll stay. When he doesn’t stomp through me, I continue, “Why are you the only one who can see me?”
“No clue.”
I narrow my eyes. “You can tell me, you know …”
“Tell you what?”
“If you had something to do with this.” And there it is—a chance for him to tell the truth.
Rafael grumbles like he’s the one peeing through tubes and brushes past me. Too fast, he tugs the door wide open and slips into the hallway. A nurse almost crashes into him as she hurries down the corridor, but his hands shoot out and grip her arms.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles with a reassuring smile. The young nurse blushes. Rafael ensures she’s steady on her feet before he drops his hands and rushes down the muted-beige hallway, past hospital staff clad in various shades of blue and turquoise, patients in wheelchairs, and visitors hidden behind flowers and gift baskets.
“Hey!” I hurry after him, ducking and weaving between people who can’t see me. I’m almost on his heels. “Rafael! You can’t blame me for thinking it. It’s the only reasonable explanation.” And by reasonable, I mean I can’t accept the alternative—that this was a freakish twist of fate. Because Annie ended up in a hospital too. Annie slipped into a coma. And Annie never woke up.
The same thing happening to me isn’t comprehensible. I was careful and calculated. I planned. I ran. I did everything I was supposed to do—but not everything I needed to.
I can’t be done yet.
I was supposed to do more.
I owed—owe—it to Annie … and our bucket list.
Rafael keeps walking away, too fast for someone with an obsession with carbs.
“Admit it!” I command.
Rafael’s long strides have me scrambling to catch up. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t so much as acknowledge my presence.
I quicken my step. “Raffy Taffy!”
The telltale cheek muscle pulses. Likely because I’ve hit too close to home. Touched the proverbial nerve. I just need to prod until he breaks.
“The truth shall set you free!”
Rafael growls as he heads toward an elevator, which is already packed with two nurses chatting over Starbucks cups, a young doctor on his phone, and an older couple holding hands. He abruptly changes direction and marches past the elevator toward a stairwell beneath anEXITsign. I rush through the door before it closes, trailing him as he clambers down the stairs at a quick clip.
I flail after him, half running, half floating. “Rafael!”
“Leave me alone!” he shouts, his voice echoing up and down the concrete stairwell.
Typical Rafael. “Making things harder than they have to be.”
