Chapter 2

The old me would have squared up and gone toe to toe with him.

Instead, I said quietly, "No thanks."

Winona caught my hand. "Jordan, look how thoughtful Danny is. He considers you a friend. Don't embarrass him like this."

Her voice was gentle, but her grip was firm. She could not stand the idea of Daniel feeling even slightly slighted.

I gave in and pointed at the scarf.

Last winter, Winona had knitted it until all ten of her fingers were raw and blistered. For once, I had assumed she was making me an anniversary gift. I had even saved up to buy a coat to match.

Then I watched her wrap it around Daniel's neck with her own hands, and I realized I had been reading too much into things.

Maybe it was the fact that I was dying, or the unfinished business weighing on my chest. Either way, as I looked at the scarf now, a sudden, almost desperate urge rose in me to take it, just to have it.

Winona followed my gaze, and her expression changed. "No. That scarf is warm, and Danny runs cold. Besides, I made it myself. He would hate to part with it. Pick something else."

"I want it," I insisted.

Perhaps I needed to know. Some part of me still wanted proof that I meant something to her.

Winona's face flushed. "Jordan, Danny is going to save your life one day. You donated a kidney to him. That makes you even. You never cared about material things before, so why are you suddenly trying to take something he loves?"

I laughed. The sound came out hollow.

She was not even trying to hide it anymore.

A year ago, Daniel joined the company and went through the standard employee health screening. Winona discovered that his blood type matched mine. From that day on, she made him her project.

At work, she promoted him, gave him raises, and credited him with results from my projects. He became the office favorite. At home, she cooked for him, did his laundry, and showed up whenever he called.

Any time I pushed back, even slightly, she accused me of being petty. She told me Daniel was my future lifesaver, that I owed him my life, that I had a debt to repay. She piled one moral obligation on top of another until the weight became absurd.

Through all of it, I kept telling myself she still cared about me.

Now, standing here days from death, I could finally see her clearly. Everything that had kept me awake at night, every moment I could not reconcile, had never been what I wanted it to be. I had simply refused to face it.

"I'm kidding," I said. "Why would I take something he loves?"

I let out a short, dry laugh and dropped it—the scarf, the hope, all of it.

Daniel immediately looked wounded. "It's fine, Jordan. I know you have money. I know my things aren't up to your standard. I get it. I'm just a blood bag. I should not have expected to be treated like a real friend."

Winona's face filled with concern. "Don't say that, Danny. There's an auction today. I'll take you right now, and we'll find something better."

She turned and told her bodyguard to collect everything from the bed, ensuring I could not quietly pocket anything on my way out.

At the door, she stopped, as if something had just occurred to her.

She came back, closed the window, draped my jacket over my shoulders, and spoke softly. "Jordan, I didn't invite you because I don't want you exhausting yourself. I love you most. You know that. Tell me what you want, and I will bid on it and bring it back as a wedding gift. Sounds good?"

Then she left with Daniel.

I stood at the window and looked down at the street. In the car below, Winona leaned across and buckled Daniel's seatbelt for him.

Daniel said something and pointed at the passenger sun visor. It held our photo, mine and Winona's.

A second later, it came out the window and landed on the pavement.

The car pulled away. The rear tire rolled straight over it.

That was her love. That was her heartache on my behalf.

"Winona, I don't have long left. And I don't want to marry you anymore."

I pulled the curtain closed and went to find the doctor to ask for discharge.

"Mr. Wilford, under palliative care guidelines, I have no grounds to stop you. But without treatment, I'm afraid..."