I hooked up with a lady or two stateside on the rare occasions I had any extra dough, but not in Tijuana, since I had no way to get there. I could have gotten normal girls for free, but I saw how clingy they got with Mario and some of the other guys. I didn’t want to feel obligated to them, for them to pin any of their hopes on me.

Actually, I knew when I finally got back to Rosa. Finn’s birthday almost a year later. I hadn’t told anybody I’d gotten to know about my history, hell no. But Rosa I could tell. I couldn’t call her up, as I’d always just showed up at her job or her place. We had no way to contact each other.

I’d just started at Bud’s and Mario loaned me his Yamaha. I didn’t have a license for it, but that sort of obstacle didn’t stop me in those days.

When I got to her farmacia well ahead of closing, she was still there behind the counter.

Seeing her again was like taking a step into my past. I wasn’t the boy I’d been when I first asked her to come up the stairs with me. But looking across those shelves at her, I could experience, for a minute, what it was like to be the old Gavin.

She’d changed. I remembered that now, puzzle pieces falling together. Softer around the middle. Sadder, too. When she looked up at me, she wasn’t joyful the way she’d been before, but shocked. She glanced anxiously behind her at the man, as if worried he would guess who I was. I didn’t say anything but bought a bottle of perfume, letting my hand linger when she handed me the change. Then I hung out at a bar down the street until the hour came for her to lock up.

Rosa was reluctant to see me then and wouldn’t go to her apartment. But when we got to the old hotel room, she forced a smile and put on the face that I would grow used to over the years that followed, a pretend sort of happy.

If she’d had a baby in that time I was gone, I wouldn’t have even known.

If it had been mine, she would have had no way to contact me about it until I showed back up again.

Damn it. Why hadn’t she told me when I came back? We could have sorted this out.

The phone felt cold in my hands. When I got back to Bud’s, I didn’t bother going inside. I knew exactly where I had to go.

I fired up the Harley and headed for Interstate 5 and the border.

My father never missed a thing.

“You were expecting him, weren’t you?” he said, stretched out in Gavin’s chair in the corner.

Mom sorted through their bags from the museum purchases. “Never mind that, dear. Look, I got you some things to set around the room.” She unpacked a handblown glass bowl swirled with blue and yellow and set it on the side table with the flowers. “That’s better.”

I gritted my teeth. “Thank you.”

Dad yawned. “Did the doctor say if you were leaving today?”

I glanced at the clock. Two in the afternoon. “He hasn’t been by. Another staff member came in and seemed to indicate I wouldn’t be here much longer.” I picked at the sheet across my lap. Gavin’s last two texts were cryptic and short, just “At work” and “I’ll get there when I can.”

“Was it a nurse?” Mom asked.

My hackles rose. “No, just somebody from the hospital.”

“Maybe we could page the doctor.” She arranged herself on a chair, tugging her knitting from a bag. Great, she was going to settle in. Maybe I could walk the halls a bit and try to place a call. Except I didn’t have anything but this breezy hospital gown. And Gavin had my keys. I was stuck.

“He’s probably got more pressing patients than me,” I said.

“Then they should give up your bed, send you home,” Dad said.

The gray-mop-headed nurse popped in. “Time for a temperature check.”

Mom stood up. “Do we know when Corabelle gets to go home?”

The woman clicked on her iPad. “The doctor should be by soon. He’ll decide.” She sheathed a thermometer and slid it into my mouth.

We all waited for it to beep, as if it would be anything but normal. I felt fine.

She peered at it. “Hmm. Up again a bit. You been out of bed a lot?”

I shook my head. “I feel fine. I was walking earlier. Maybe I just did too much.” It was a lie. My chest felt like it was being crushed. But I wanted to go home.

She tapped the temperature into her iPad. “Let’s take it a little bit easier, just to be sure.”

“I will.” God, I could not jeopardize going home. I was already going crazy.

Dad locked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Sure you don’t want to come back with us? I don’t know why you couldn’t finish up in New Mexico like you planned.”

I had to keep all my stories straight about why I had transferred. “I have a better shot at grad school here.”

“Sure was nice having you closer to home.”

“It’s nice here. I can see why Corabelle would like it,” Mom said, diplomatic as always.

My phone beeped and I practically lunged for it. Surely Gavin would be off work soon, or at least have a moment to let me know when he could bring my clothes.

But the number was unfamiliar.

Hey — a hospital just called to schedule an interview. Said you gave them my name. Thanks. Tina.

I smiled. I hoped she got the job, if she wanted it. I pictured Sabrina in her paint-splattered dress and stifled a laugh.

“Good to see you happy,” Dad said. “You haven’t smiled enough lately.”

I would have said it was Gavin, and new friends, but I let it go. The last thing I wanted was to invite Dad to start bashing him again.

“You know, I ran into Alaina the other day,” Mom said.

I stiffened at the mention of Gavin’s mother. “Oh?”

“She got a little flustered. We haven’t really spoken for a while.”

Since the funeral, probably. Gavin’s departure had pretty much ended the friendship between his mother and mine. “Where was she?”

“At the grocery store. I think she must have started going to Wal-Mart since I never see her at Peppers.”

“You think she’s avoiding you?”

My dad snorted. “She ought to be.”

“Arthur,” my mom said. “She’s not responsible for how Gavin acted.”

“She’s responsible for how she raised him.” He sat up. “No-account fool.”

“Dad!”

“I’m not going to sit here and let that self-centered jackass jerk my daughter around again!”

I threw the sheets off and held the back of my gown closed as I snatched my phone from the side table. “I need to take a walk.” I stalked to the door.

“Corabelle! You heard the nurse!” My mother’s voice hit a rare fever pitch.

I turned back around and went into the bathroom instead, slamming the door shut. I sat on the floor by the toilet and dialed Gavin’s number. I knew he was working, but hoped he could get away for just a second. He’d been so available the last few days. I didn’t understand why suddenly I could barely get him to respond to a text. Maybe he was up to his elbows in a car motor.

The connection rang continuously until his voice-mail message came on. I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes as I listened to the recording, picturing him saying the words, his lips, the scruffy jaw. When it beeped, I said as quietly as I could, “Hey. Having a tough time up here with my parents. Hope you’re okay.”

The cold floor seeped through the cotton gown and I shivered. Crying was not an option. I had to get well. But I was frozen in time, waiting for Gavin, just like I’d waited four years ago.

I wanted to go home. I’d do whatever it took. But the cold and the need to cry triggered another moment of panic as I couldn’t take in a breath. I sucked in, triggering a coughing fit. I moved to my knees and snatched a towel from a rack, pressing it to my face to keep as quiet as possible. Terror flashed through me as my abdomen heaved and pushed, refusing to settle back down. I forced myself to breathe, to relax, to slow down. After what felt like forever, it settled again and I gulped in air. I spread the towel on the floor so I wouldn’t be up against the freezing tile. If only I could go home, sleep in my bed. Be warm. Be with Gavin.