Katie McGarry - Chasing Impossible

“There’s more to Abby than what you’re saying.”

“I hope there is.”

I wait for more of Isaiah’s wisdom, his arguments, but it’s what he’s left unsaid that’s the most damning. Hope—it’s what Rachel and I all have for Abby, but hope doesn’t make Abby’s choices less real.

A knock on the door and Noah pops his head in. “West got someone to talk. Abby made it out of surgery. Bullet went straight through. Huge blood loss, but they gave her some to replace it. Concussion is why she was passed out. Stitched up the gash. They’ll run more tests later. She’s in recovery and barring shit that comes up in the meantime, she’ll be fine.”

Fine. For some reason, that word creates a hot rage through my blood. Fine. Abby’s always fine. I don’t want her to be fine, I want her to wake up. I want her to have left with me earlier tonight. I want her to change.

Noah eyes me like I’m something someone vomited. “Why don’t you head home, shower, change, and get some sleep, bro?” Noah says. “We’ll call if anything changes.”

It’s two in the morning and I’ve got that appointment with my parents at ten. My father’s too used to my brushes with death to let this appointment slide. “Is she safe here?”

“Noah, West, and I will watch over her,” Isaiah says. “We’ll protect her while she’s weak and can’t defend herself. Noah’s right—you look dead, man. Get some rest and think about what I said and then if you want, you can take a shift watching over Abby later.”

Our eyes meet and he’s telling me to reconsider my friendship with Abby. My gut and head are too twisted up. She’s a drug dealer. She was shot. I could have died in the process. But I’m exhausted. It’s the reason I can’t think.

I offer my hand to Isaiah and he accepts it with a quick pat to my back. “You need one of us to drive you home? Noah will take you, I’ll stay, and West will follow to bring Noah back.”

I shake my head. Last thing I need is any of them near my truck. My black bag of diabetes supplies was emptied onto the front seat. I don’t need their sympathy or having them believe I’m weak.

“Call if anything changes,” I say, they agree, and I begin the long walk down the hallway to the exit.

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