I knew the sounds and smells of hospitals far too well to have any confusion over where I was. It was everything else that I had questions about.

As I slowly came back to consciousness, fragments of memories started to reenter my brain. A red car with a crumpled front. Flashing lights of an ambulance. The shrieking of metal as firefighters forced the door open. Alex on a stretcher.

Fuck. Where the fuck was Alex?

My eyes shot open and I tried to sit up, but brain fog and IV tubes made it exceedingly difficult. I struggled to get out of bed, my breathing increasing along with the beeping of the heart rate monitor.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart, it's okay, it's okay."

My eyes focused on my dad who now had his hands on my shoulders and was trying to keep me from getting up.

"Dad," I gasped, my voice hoarse. "Dad, where's Alex? Dad, where is he? Dad—"

"Alex is fine, honey," my dad said quickly, "he's just fine. He's fine."

I collapsed backward onto the bed, feeling relief wash through my body as my heart rate slowed back down. My dad sat on the edge of my bed, squeezing one of my hands between both of his own.

But then I looked around the room. If he was fine, where the fuck was he?"

"Where is he, then, Dad?" I asked.

There was something my dad wasn't telling me, I could see it on his face.

"I got here about an hour and a half after you did," he told me. My stomach churned at how close to tears he looked. "I saw Alex first, he was in the waiting room, banged up but nothing serious." My dad paused. "But he was, well, distraught is the only way to put it. The doctors weren't telling him much since he wasn't family, the only thing he knew was that you were still alive. He had a social worker out with him, but all she could really do at that point was keep him from getting so angry that he took a swing at one of the doctors."

I closed my eyes for a moment. After everything he had been through, that wait must have been hell for him.

"But I got there and the doctor came to talk to me. He told me that things were looking good, but they were worried about your head injury. They were pretty sure it was just a concussion, but they still had to do more tests to make sure there wasn't anything more serious. There's not, by the way," my dad added. "You're going to have a pretty serious headache for a while and we're going to need to keep an eye on you, but the doctors are confident that nothing major is going on."

I couldn't feel anything in my head right now, but I figured that probably had something to do with whatever painkillers they had me on.

"I told Alex all of that, and he calmed down some, but it's almost like he just retreated into himself. He kept repeating that it was all his fault."

"It wasn't Dad," I interjected. "I didn't even see the other car."

"I know that, honey," my dad reassured me. "The doctor had talked to the paramedics who brought the two of you in. The other driver had been going too fast and it looks like he lost control of his car. He slammed into your side, that's why you got the brunt of the injuries.

"Anyway, eventually they finished their tests and said that they were confident you would be fine and that you would be in the ICU for a little while longer but then after that, we could come and sit with you. I thought he would be relieved with all of that, but," my dad shook his head, "he still seemed just so dejected. He kept saying that it was his fault and that he couldn't be here, and then eventually, he just left."

"He left?" I whispered. I couldn't comprehend it. "What do you mean he left?"

"He just left, honey," my dad said, sympathy and worry etched on his face. "I don't know why, but he was just so upset."

I turned away from him and squeezed my eyes closed on the tears threatening to spill. I was grateful my dad was here. I wanted Emilia to be here. But I needed Alex.

I felt my dad's hand smooth down my hair. "It's going to be okay," he whispered. "Everything is going to be okay."

My hospital stay ended up being a grand total of three days, including the time I was unconscious. For the first time in a long time, Coral Brews was closed, which meant that I had no shortage of visitors.

Every single staff member from the bar made the trip up, carting enough balloons and cards so that my hospital room resembled a Hallmark store. Ryan had been one of the first to burst in, looking frantic, but then shocked to find me sitting up and moodily eating a cup of pudding.

But the person who brought me actual solace was Emilia. She came through the door one evening, and the moment I saw her I wanted to cry.

And apparently, so did she. "Ana," she whispered tearfully.

"Fuck, if you cry, I'm going to cry," I told her.

So we did cry. We hadn't even spoken yet, but tears were everywhere.

"I talked to your dad," Emilia finally said. "He told me everything."

I didn't have to guess as to what everything entailed. "Why did he leave, Emilia?" I whispered, my voice catching at the end of my words. I felt my lip begin to tremble again. "He knows how much I hate hospitals. And I thought, I thought maybe—" I took in a small gasp, trying to get air in, "I thought maybe he loved me, too."

"Oh, Ana," Emilia sighed. She shook her head. "I don't know. I wish I did. But apparently, I don't have very good instincts when it comes to men, so..."

My eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing."

When Emilia still didn't elaborate, I scooted over to one side of the hospital bed and then patted the empty space. "Come here," I ordered.

Resigned, Emilia did as I said, squeezing herself into the small space so we both lay on our sides, facing each other. "I don't want to add more to your plate," she said.

"Emilia, you're my best friend," I said, taking her hands and gripping them. "You deal with my shit, I deal with yours."

She shook her head. "It's stupid."

"Is it John?" I ventured a guess.

The anger that flashed in her eyes for a moment shocked me. "John's a jackass," she said. She let out an angry huff. "I slept with him."

My eyes widened slightly. That was a huge deal for Emilia, and I had waited a long time to cheer her on in this moment. But clearly, something had gone wrong.

She gave a small shrug. "He got weird after. So, I decided to take a page out of your book and just confronted him directly about it. He told me that he was looking for a way to end things but so I wouldn't 'get too hurt.'" Emilia looked down. "I was a fucking challenge for him, Ana," she whispered. "That's the long and short of it. See how long it would take him to sleep with the mid-20s virgin."

I gaped at her, temporarily forgetting about my own hurt. Then I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her tight. "Jesus Christ, apparently my gross men radar is also way off," I said. For all the pain I was feeling because of Alex's absence right now, at least he would never, ever, do something like that.

"Stop it." Emilia's voice was muffled against my shoulder.

"Stop what?"

"Stop thinking that you don't have a right to feel bad because you think that what John did was worse."

"It is worse."

"Doesn't mean that Alex leaving you here after a major accident isn't a really shitty thing to do. I was hoping we could wallow together."

I gave a hollow laugh. "Wallowing together sounds great," I said, feeling the tears gear up again. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too."