Excerpt:

"Sir, you can't be in here," the nurse was whispering so Noah wouldn't wake up, even though she'd just finished drugging him into next week with an IV injection.

I looked at my hands, then remembered I was holding the pass the receptionist gave me. I flashed it at the nurse like a cop flashing his badge. "Uh, I'm visiting Noah... I'm his b--"

"Oh, your brother? I'm sorry, sir. You know, that pass is a sticker..."

"Boyfriend..." I finished my sentence, and the nurse made a squeaky noise.

"Aah! I'm.. sorry! That's so strange, I made that mistake twice today." She laughed, and I faked a laugh. "When you're done visiting, you need to sign out at the receptionist's desk, all right? I have other patients to check on."

She made me stick my visitors pass to my shirt before she left, but I took it off again. I also closed the door, spent two minutes figuring out how to lock it, and gave up. (Something about the fact that the in-patient doors in hospitals have no locks has always creeped me out.) I found a chair by a wall and pulled it closer to Noah's bed, and I watched him sleep for a while.

He looked peaceful, which relieved me - he wasn't in agonizing pain as far as I could see. He'd already been cleaned up, and his arm and leg were wrapped in plaster casts. There was a needle in his right hand that I could barely look at, attached to an IV bag with a plastic tube. The bag wasn't as gross as the needle, and I kept turning to watch it drip medicine down the winding tube - kind of like one of those plastic kids straws shaped all loopy and weird. (I got one of those straws as a party favor in third grade.)

A few minutes later, Noah tried to roll over in his sleep, and the tube tangled on his bedrail. I grabbed his hand to keep it still and untangle everything, but I pulled too hard and felt him tense in pain. I looked up just in time to see him open his eyes.

"Hey... Are you feeling okay?" I finally got the tube free from the rail and kissed his hand. It made me smile when he squeezed mine, but he didn't answer. He didn't even look at me. In seconds, his eyes fell shut again and he was back to sleep. I sighed and went back to watching him, but I kept his hand in mine - mostly to hold it still so he wouldn't snag the stupid tube again.

I could hear the hospital get busy outside the room. Another person showed up in the ER, and it sounded like he wasn't going to survive whatever happened with the way the doctors were running and shouting. It made me nervous just listening, knowing I was in the hospital with Noah. Something much worse than a broken arm and leg could have happened to him, and I felt a strange kind of... flutter in my heart when I let myself think about it. Noah was hurt, but he wasn't going to die...

But he was hurt, and it made me feel guilty... Even if it wasn't my fault.