Gabe removed his hands and shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe some of the residents are trying to escape.”

“It’s not like we don’t try,” Old Man Peterson grumbled, shuffling up next to us.

Gabe gave the old man a high five and pointed at his retreating form as he used his walker to make his way across the floor. “My point exactly.”

I rolled my eyes and walked by Gabe to the front of the room.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone!”

They quieted down and took their seats.

“Today I thought it would be fun to break out into groups and write our own scales. When you’re done, you can either hum the song to me or you can use your instrument to play the notes. We’re just going to work with the major scale today, so use any four notes you want, but only four. We don’t want to make it too difficult. I have examples on the worksheets — oh, and please make your notes colorful. If you use an F or a G make sure it’s always the same color as the previous F and G. Any questions?”

They never had questions.

Probably because they never actually followed directions, but hey that was fine, at least they were enjoying themselves.

For the next hour, I made my way around the group tables and offered my assistance, but I stayed away from Princess.

Gabe was with her, hovered over the piece of paper while she instructed him on what to do.

Ha, and he thought I was bossy.

I had nothing on that girl. She knew exactly what she wanted and why.

“No, Park! I want you to use the same note again! It needs to be pink!”

I watched them interact, watched how he patted her hand every once in a while, or how he adjusted her chair so he was closer, or even wiped some of the spit from her mouth.

I’d already suspected there was something more.

I wanted to ask him, because I was beginning to wonder if she was his sister or some other family member. It was the only logical explanation as to why he would not only volunteer but be the only person who was with Princess the most. Then, on the other hand, Lisa somehow had to fit into the picture. I just didn’t know how. Ugh, I was giving myself a headache.

“Sorry.” He laughed and tapped her nose with the pink crayon. “So what notes do you want?”

“I want—” She started coughing wildly.

Gabe shot to his feet. “Get it out, Princess, that’s right, just cough it up.”

He put a napkin over her mouth and then wiped it.

“That’s my girl.”

“Parker…” She coughed again, and he repeated the process, rubbing at her nasal tubes. “I hate coughing.”

“I know. It’s because you got the sniffles, but you’re getting better, right? It’s easier to breathe because of them putting air inside?” He winked and tapped against the little machine attached to her wheel chair.

“A bit.” Her face looked paler than before. “I’m so tired though.”

“Maybe—”

“Parker!” she yelled, her voice almost piercing my ears. “I said I’m tired! I’m tired! So tired! And I keep dreaming of the Christmas tree. But it doesn’t have lights. Why doesn’t it have lights, Parker?”

Gabe froze. I’d never seen him look so pale before.

“The tree!” she yelled again, and then seemed to almost seize in her chair as her mouth dropped open.

I ran over just as she started coughing and snatched the napkin from his hand and held it up to her mouth.

She hacked a few times. I wiped her mouth and offered her a small smile.

“All better?” I asked.

“N-no.” Giant tears started falling down her face.

“Hmm, why don’t we sing then? Would you like that?” I was grasping at straws. It always seemed to calm her down when Gabe sang.

She didn’t answer, and I knew I was playing with something fragile. Without thinking I shoved the napkin back into Gabe’s hands and went over to the piano and started playing one of the songs that I’d learned from the Little Mermaid when I was little.

“Part of Your World!” Princess shrieked.

Gabe still stood motionless.

Princess tried singing, and even though the words didn’t come out right, her smile returned. Best of all, no more coughing.

When the song was done, it was time for class to be over. Martha came in and wheeled Princess to the corner, while I approached Gabe and played with the idea of clapping in front of his face.

“What’s wrong?” I tugged his hand.

He blinked and looked down at the napkin in his hands. It was stained red. Covered in blood.

Princess was coughing up blood.

Red— amazing how one color can transport me back to that moment. There had been so much blood and it was all on my hands — it’s still on my hands. —Gabe H.

Gabe

The dream was back.

The dream usually came when she was feverish… Princess couldn’t remember much about her accident¸ only that there were trees. In her mind, they looked like Christmas trees, which meant we had a hell of a time during the holidays, considering she was petrified of them.

I had to agree with her.

Trees reminded me of it too.

Just like her damn Oregon Ducks sweatshirt and the scarf tied around her wheelchair.

“Gabe…” Saylor repeated my name a few times. I looked down at my hand and tried to find words, but nothing would come.

“Gabe…” She grabbed my arm and walked me out the back doors to the outside “Is she sick?”

“Pneumonia.” My voice cracked.

Saylor’s hand didn’t leave my arm. “I’m sorry, Gabe. That’s… horrible, I know—”

“You don’t know anything.” I sneered, lashing out because I needed to hurt her like I was hurting, because I was losing my mind, because I was losing the girl I used to love and it was my fault all over again.

“Don’t yell at me.” Saylor squeezed my arm and pushed me away, releasing my arm in the process. “I’m only trying to help. I know she’s important to you. She’s family? Like your sister?”

I let out a harsh laugh and threw my hands in the air. “My sister? Is that what you think?”

Eyes wide, Saylor nodded quickly.

“Wrong.” I scoffed and stalked toward her until I towered over her body. “She was my fiancée.”

Swearing, I walked back into the building and slammed the door behind me. I was going to puke.

I barely made it to the bathroom in time before all the contents of my stomach made their way into the toilet.

I puked until I was doing nothing but dry heaving, then washed my mouth out with water and made my way to Martha’s office.

She was sitting demurely at her desk, sipping coffee, and looking over paperwork.

“She’s coughing up blood, Martha.”

The coffee cup paused mid-air to her lips. “Yes, we didn’t want to worry you.”

“Worry me?” My voice raised. “Worry me?”

“Gabe, sit down.”

“No.” I swore and slammed the door shut so nobody would hear us. “If she’s sick we need to get a better doctor.”

Martha’s smile was kind. “Thanks to you we have the best money can buy. It’s not that the doctor isn’t skilled.”

Dread filled my body as the clock ticked on the wall, as if waiting for the perfect time to go off. “I’m afraid the infection is worse than before. She’s stopped responding to antibiotics.”

“But you said—”

“Gabe.” Martha sighed. “You look exhausted. Go home, get some rest. I’ll keep you updated when I know more. As of right now, the doctor is still extremely optimistic that she’ll pull through.”

“But if she’s stopped—”

“Gabe.” Martha’s voice was more stern this time. “She’s a strong girl. Go home.”

With a nod, I opened the door and stepped through then slammed it behind me, noticing the crazed looks I was receiving from staff members as my feet pounded against the tile floor.

When I reached the parking lot, Saylor was waiting by her car.

Hell, that’s just what I needed. More tears to make up for.