Chasing Impossible. Katie McGarry

says. “We’ll call if anything changes.”

      It’s two in the morning and I’ve got that appointment with my parents at ten. My father’s too used to my brushes with death to let this appointment slide. “Is she safe here?”

      “Noah, West, and I will watch over her,” Isaiah says. “We’ll protect her while she’s weak and can’t defend herself. Noah’s right—you look dead, man. Get some rest and think about what I said and then if you want, you can take a shift watching over Abby later.”

      Our eyes meet and he’s telling me to reconsider my friendship with Abby. My gut and head are too twisted up. She’s a drug dealer. She was shot. I could have died in the process. But I’m exhausted. It’s the reason I can’t think.

      I offer my hand to Isaiah and he accepts it with a quick pat to my back. “You need one of us to drive you home? Noah will take you, I’ll stay, and West will follow to bring Noah back.”

      I shake my head. Last thing I need is any of them near my truck. My black bag of diabetes supplies was emptied onto the front seat. I don’t need their sympathy or having them believe I’m weak.

      “Call if anything changes,” I say, they agree, and I begin the long walk down the hallway to the exit.