Chapter 2: Out of Place

Derek landed in the hospital after drinking too much.

A nurse poked her head into the waiting room. "Who here is the patient’s family?"

Emily Song and I both stood up at the same time.

"Me."

"It’s me."

The nurse’s eyebrows shot up. "So who is it, really?"

Emily darted forward, voice trembling. "It’s me. Please—just tell me whatever I need to know."

The nurse ran through the overnight precautions while Emily nodded along, all attention.

I turned to look at Derek—heavy breaths, his brow creased tight, the corners of his eyes red but his lips ghostly pale. I hadn’t seen him like this in years.

Alcohol tolerance is something you can train, but your body either handles it or it doesn’t. Derek, as always, was allergic to the stuff.

Emily’s hands shook as she rubbed warmth into his. Even as his ex, it felt weird watching the new girlfriend play nurse.

The plastic chair dug into my back. I gripped my phone tighter, pretending I had somewhere else to be. The sharp scent of antiseptic, the steady beep of the heart monitor, Emily’s quiet sniffling—it all felt distant, like I was watching my own life through a thick pane of glass. Hospitals always unsettled me, but this time, the feeling ran deeper: I was just a spectator, not a participant anymore.

I hovered, unsure if I should just slip out, when Emily’s voice broke the silence.

"It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have drunk so much."

My assistant had already clued me in before I arrived. At dinner, some guy tried hitting on Emily and wanted her to drink, but Derek intervened. The guy scoffed, "A man who won’t even drink? You’d be better off with me."

Derek was long past the age of acting on impulse. But that night, something snapped and he started drinking like it was a contest.

Anyone who knows Derek knows he can’t handle his liquor. But if he decides to go all in, you’d have a hard time keeping up.

Back in his wilder days, he’d landed in the hospital more than once. The last time was during our second year of marriage—he wound up puking blood in the ER, and I got into a car accident on the interstate. That was when he promised to change.

Emily looked at me, voice hesitant. "Ms. Harper, was he always this protective of you before?"

A flicker of something—hurt, maybe—ran through me, but I shoved it down and forced a smile. "You stay with him. I’ll head home."

My words sounded even to my own ears—polite, measured, empty. I couldn’t decide if I was angry, relieved, or just numb. The nurse shot me a look, then glanced at Emily, like she was watching a scene from some B-list drama play out in real life.

"Ms. Harper—" Emily’s voice caught. She bit her lip, as if bracing herself. "I told Derek I want to get married. He said yes."