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In the rental car A.J. picked up while Dr. Mendelsohn examined me, I sit huddled in the passenger seat, blinking into the brilliant morning light. I’m swimming in A.J.’s hoodie, wrapped in his scent. My cardigan was destroyed in my fight with Eric, and since I didn’t have any other clothes at the hospital, A.J. handed over his hoodie without a word when it was time for me to get dressed. Luckily he’d been wearing a leather jacket over it, so he has something to leave the hospital in, too. I’m trying not to think about the fact that his chest is bare beneath the leather. Honestly, I’m trying not to think about much at all, because if I do, my head will probably explode. I’ve seen my face—glimpsed in the bathroom mirror as I dressed—and it’s not pretty. My eye is swollen, livid purple-and
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