She led me down a hallway smelling of bleach and antiseptic, then stopped outside a room.
I pushed the door open.
Daniel was propped against pillows, pale and exhausted, with an IV taped to his hand.
But he was alive.
I covered my mouth as tears spilled down my face.
“Thank God.”
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”
I moved toward him.
Then he rubbed the back of his neck.
That was Daniel’s tell.
He always did that when he was about to confess something.
“There’s something I need to explain,” he said.
My chest tightened.
“What are you not telling me?”
Before he could answer, the door flew open and slammed against the wall.
A woman rushed in, breathless and panicked, her eyes fixed only on Daniel.
“Are you okay? Daniel, please tell me you’re okay!”
Then she stepped fully into the light.
And I froze.
Megan.
