Page 141 of From Nowhere

She quickly shakes her head and steps back, holding up a finger like she used to do when I got a warning for doing something wrong. “Not yet. You need to let me walk out of here without my eyes swollen shut. So we’re going to talk about your dad’s upcoming colonoscopy appointment or your uncle Jeff’s grumbling over watching the farm for us while we’re here. We can even talk about the election or the new manager of Quick Fuel, who likes to ruffle your dad’s feathers by flirting with me. Pick your non-coma topic.”

I open my mouth to speak but stop before my words come to life. My friends and family were preparing to say their final goodbyes. There’s nothing I can say other than that must have been awful.

“I’d like to know more about the new manager at Quick Fuel,” I say with a smile.

Dad rolls his eyes, and the tension melts from my mom’s shoulders. I’m going to let her leave here without swollen eyes. We don’t have to celebrate my recovery until everyone is done mourning the trauma. My scars will be superficial. Theirs are much deeper and may never fully fade.

My parents each share very different accounts of the flirtatious manager. Then I use Mom’s phone to notify everyone else that I’m awake while Dad gets dinner for us. I don’t eat much, but I’m sure that will change in the coming days.

“Go. Both of you,” I say through a yawn.

“I’ll stay,” Dad says.

“No. I’m fine. Go. Please.”

They look at each other and then at me. I make a shooing motion with my hand.

“If you’re sure,” Mom says.

“I’m sure. But before you go, can I see your phone again?”

She hands it to me, and I text Ozzy.

Colleen: It’s me. Maren. Before my mom leaves with her phone, I want you to know I love you. And I’m SO sorry I put you and Lola through this kind of hell. I might go home next week. Take all the time you need and hug Lola for me. x Maren

I wait for a minute until the message changes fromdeliveredtoread.

He doesn’t reply. I know it should be okay. Yes, he needs time to process. But that doesn’t make itfeelokay. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ozzy

“I’m an asshole,” I say to Diego while we sit in lawn chairs, drinking beer and watching Kai and Lola ride scooters up and down the sidewalk.

It’s been five days since Maren came out of her coma.

“You’re human,” he says.

“Humans are assholes.”

Diego chuckles. “Undoubtedly.”

“Tia thinks I need therapy, which is odd coming from her because she’s not a fan of it. So I must be really messed up for her to suggest it.”

“Let me save you some money,” he says. “How did you feel when Maren called you?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “We’re not doing this.”

“Come on, humor me.”

I roll the bottom of the beer bottle on my leg, eyeing Kai’s black hair, blowing like ribbons in the air, just like Lola’s. “I couldn’t breathe.”

“Why?”

I shake my head. Diego is not a therapist. This is stupid. Yet I keep answering him. “Because I felt guilty for putting Lola in a position to get hurt like that again. And I swore I would never do it again once welet Maren go because she wasn’t going to wake up. She’d lost so much blood. They restarted her heart multiple times. She was in a coma for three weeks. We were going to say our goodbyes. End of story.”

“But she didn’t die,” Diego says.

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