While you were driving down the mountain with Gretchen, celebrating your fifty million dollars, I was in an emergency medical unit, fighting for every breath, with people who actually wanted me to live.”

I turned my head and found Gretchen, who was breathing fast now, her eyes darting toward the side doors, calculating an exit.

“I wouldn’t, Gretchen,” I said, mildly.

“The county sheriff and the state police have had every door of this building covered since before the service started.

There’s nowhere in this room to run to.”

Brandon’s grief act shattered all at once into something wild and frantic.