She didn't hear him at first, so Pete hovered in the doorway. In his backpack was her laptop; in his hand, a bunch of wildflowers he'd grabbed on the way to the hospital.

He’d never seen Chloe so pale, so drained. The bruise on her face was already beginning to fade, turning ugly yellow at the edges; Pete knew it was less painful for her now, but that didn't ease his hurt.

He squeaked his sneaker on the shiny floor. Her answering smile lit the whole room, the whole building, the whole town, and Pete knew then they’d both recover.