One of Us Is Next: The Sequel to One of Us Is Lying

Maeve

Friday, March 27

My sister is crushing me, but in the nicest possible way.

It’s Friday afternoon, and I’ve only been home from school for half an hour. Bronwyn, who just took a Lyft from the airport, has her arms wrapped around my shoulders while I press my phone to my ear in my bedroom, trying to make sense of what Phoebe is telling me. “Well, that’s good, right?” I ask.

“I think so.” Phoebe sounds exhausted. When she didn’t show up at school today, I was worried something else might have happened with Intense Guy. Knox and I sent her a bunch of increasingly urgent check-in texts, and she finally answered one during lunch to let us know she was at the hospital with Emma. She’d been there most of last night, she said, until her mom insisted she go home and try to sleep. She went back first thing this morning.

“They’re still giving her fluids, but they stopped the oxygen therapy,” Phoebe says now. “They say there shouldn’t be any long-term effects. But they’re talking about addiction treatment when she leaves the hospital. Like rehab or something. I don’t even know.”

“Did Emma say why she’s been drinking?” I ask.

“No. She hasn’t been awake much, though.” Phoebe sighs through the phone, long and weary. “It’s just one thing after another in this family.”

My throat tightens. Before I heard about Emma, I’d been itching to tell Phoebe everything we’d learned about Intense Guy last night, and press her to think harder about whether she might have come across him before. But I can’t put that on her now. One crisis at a time. “Can I do anything to help?” I ask.

“Thanks, but I can’t think of anything. I should go. I need to make my mom eat something. I just wanted to let you know Emma will survive.” She says it lightly, like it was never in question, but I’ve been anxious ever since her text came through earlier today. All I could think was Phoebe can’t lose anybody else.

“Text if you need me,” I say, but Phoebe’s already disconnected. I drop my phone so I can hug my sister back. Her familiar apple-green shampoo smell engulfs me, and I relax for the first time in days. “Welcome home,” I say, my words muffled against her shoulder. “Sorry Bayview is a horrible mess again. I missed you.”

When she finally lets go, we settle onto my window seat. Our usual spot, just like she never left. Both our parents are still at work, so the rest of the house is quiet. “I don’t even know where to start with everything that’s been happening around here,” Bronwyn says, folding one leg beneath her. She’s wearing black leggings and a fitted V-neck Yale T-shirt. Points to her for a cute, yet comfortable, airplane outfit. “Emma is all right, though?”

“Yeah. Phoebe says she will be.”

“God.” Bronwyn shakes her head, eyes wide. “This town is falling apart. And you…” She grabs one of my hands and gives it a shake. “I’m mad at you. I’ve been fighting with you in my head all week. How could you not tell me what you were going through?” Her face is an equal mix of affection and reproach. “I thought we told each other everything. But I didn’t have a clue any of this was happening until it was already over.”

“It turned out to be nothing,” I say, but she only tugs harder on my hand.

“Spending weeks thinking you’re deathly ill again isn’t nothing. And what if you’d lost valuable treatment time? You can’t do that, Maeve. It’s not fair to anyone.”

“You’re right. I was…” I hesitate, looking at our intertwined hands as I try to come up with the right words. “The thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever really believed I’d make it out of high school. So I tried not to get too attached to people, or let them get too attached to me. It’s just easier for everyone that way. But I could never do that with you. You wouldn’t let me. You’ve always been right here, getting in my face and making me feel things.” Bronwyn makes a tearful, strangled sound and squeezes my hand harder. “I guess, while you were gone, I forgot how that’s actually better.”

Bronwyn is crying for real now, and I am, too. We cling to each other for a few minutes and let the tears flow, and it feels like washing away months of regret for all the things I should have said and done differently. You can’t change the past, Luis said the night he made me ajiaco in the Café Contigo kitchen. All you can do is try harder next time.

And I will. I’m not repaying love with fake indifference anymore. I’m not going to pretend I don’t want my life, and the people in it, so badly that I’m willing to break all our hearts if the worst does happen.

Bronwyn finally pulls away, wiping her eyes. “Swear you’ll never do anything like that again.”

I trace my finger twice across my chest. “Cross my heart, hope not to die.” It’s our childhood promise, modified by Bronwyn during my first hospital stint ten years ago, when she was eight and I was seven.

She laughs shakily and glances at her Apple watch. “Damn it, almost four. We didn’t even get to the good stuff about Luis, but I need to go to Addy’s. We’re handling prep for the rehearsal dinner tonight so Mrs. Lawton can be with Emma.”

“Are you staying for the dinner?” I ask.

“No, that’s just for the wedding party. I’ll leave once Addy and I get everything squared away, then come back for the afterparty.”

“Do you guys want help?” I ask, even as my eyes stray to my laptop. I’d been trying to open the files I pulled from Knox’s mother’s computer before Bronwyn got here, with no luck. Mrs. Myers is a lot more careful about protecting her files than her network access. But I think I’m getting close.

“No, two of us will be plenty. It’s probably overkill, honestly, but I can’t let Addy do this alone.” Bronwyn grimaces. “She means well, but she’s not the most organized person around.”

“Can you believe Ashton and Eli are getting married tomorrow?” I say. “I feel like they just got engaged.”

“Same,” Bronwyn says. “Life comes at you fast.”

“Do you need a ride to Addy’s?” I ask.

Bronwyn’s mouth curves in a small smile. “I have one.”

I follow her gaze down to our driveway just as a motorcycle pulls in, and I can’t help the pleased laugh that escapes me. “Well, well, well. This feels like déjà vu.” We’d been sitting in this exact spot the first time Nate ever came to our house. I pluck at Bronwyn’s sleeve as she full-on beams out the window, watching Nate take off his helmet. “What’s going on?”

“I called him after you told me what happened at Cooper’s baseball game. Hearing how he’d been there for you. Everything he and I had been arguing about seemed so pointless after that. We’ve been talking every night since. And watching movies.” Her gray eyes are bright as she stands up, smoothing down the front of her shirt. “It’s almost like he’s right there with me, even with the distance. I haven’t felt that way since I left.”

“Hmm, interesting.” I tap a finger against my chin, trying to look thoughtful while fighting off a grin. “So basically, if I’m understanding you correctly, my fake leukemia brought the two of you together? You’re welcome.”

A brief frown interrupts Bronwyn’s glow. “That’s not the correct conclusion to draw from this.”

I nudge her sneaker with mine. “Look who’s been keeping secrets now, Bronwyn. And here I thought we were supposed to tell one another everything.” My voice is teasing, though, because I couldn’t possibly be less mad at her.

Color rises higher in her cheeks, and she doesn’t meet my eyes. Mostly, I think, because she can’t tear hers away from the window. Nate’s still on his motorcycle, waiting patiently. He doesn’t bother coming to the door; I’m sure he knows exactly where we are. “It’s only been a few days,” she says. “I guess I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“You know he’s crazy about you, right?” I ask. “More than ever? I was practically dying in front of him and all he could think about was you.”

Bronwyn rolls her eyes. “You were not dying.”

“Well, Nate didn’t know that, did he?”

“I really love him,” she says quietly.

“News flash: we know. You haven’t been fooling anyone.” I give her hip a gentle shove. “Enjoy the ride. I’m assuming you and Nate have plans once dinner prep is over, so I’ll see you guys at the afterparty.”

She leaves, and I stay at my window seat until I see her emerge onto the driveway. Nate gets off his motorcycle just in time to catch Bronwyn as she goes flying toward him. Her arms wrap around his neck as he spins her around, and I turn away with a smile so they can have their reunion kiss in private. “Endgame,” I say to the empty room.