Chapter 5

Sophie's POV

By the time the lawyer came to the room, I was already getting out of bed on my own.

I sat by the window in my hospital gown, the sealed bag on my knees. Outside, the temporary helipad was still up. Rescue vehicles moved past one after another. None of them were Ethan's.

The lawyer set his document folder on the small table and looked at me first.

"Ms. Gray. Everything you asked for over the phone is ready."

I nodded.

"Read it to me."

He opened the folder.

The first document was a voluntary waiver of marital assets. The apartment, the savings, Ethan's stake in the rescue company, I was taking none of it.

The second was a power of attorney authorizing the lawyer to handle all legal matters between Ethan and me. The divorce. The asset separation. Any future correspondence. All of it would go through him.

The third was a donation inventory. A set of equipment at the New York rescue station, a generator, life vests, a medical supply kit, a satellite terminal, had been purchased with my own savings after the marriage. I wasn't taking them. I was donating everything to the upriver rescue team.

The lawyer looked up from that page.

"The market value of this equipment isn't trivial. Are you sure you don't want compensation?"

I set the bag down on the bed.

"I'm sure."

"If Mr. Shaw doesn't agree, the process could drag out."

"Then we sue."

The lawyer's pen paused.

The room was quiet for a moment.

I picked up the first document and turned to the signature page.

My hand hadn't fully recovered. My wrist was stiff, and my name came out slow.

Sophie Gray.

Watching the letters land on the page, my hand trembled slightly.

I signed the second document.

Then the third.

After each page, the lawyer pressed a sticky note with instructions for notarization and delivery. I didn't ask questions. I just signed where he indicated and pressed my thumb where the ink pad was.

The red ink stayed on the pad of my finger. I wiped it twice and it didn't come off.

The lawyer gathered the documents and pressed them into a hard-shell folder.

"From this point forward, all contact from Mr. Shaw will come to me first. I'll also file a privacy request with the hospital on your behalf."

I looked up.

"Don't tell him my condition."

"Understood."

"And don't be the one to tell him about the baby."

He watched me.

"Are you sure?"

I picked up the sealed bag from the bed and set it back on my knees.

"He has his own channel."

The lawyer didn't push. He closed the folder and left.

After the door shut, all that was left in the room was the smell of antiseptic.

I sat for a while. Then I pulled back the covers, got out of bed, and walked to the end of the hallway. There was a payphone near the wall, old, with tape wrapped around the receiver.

I dropped in coins and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time.

It rang six times. Then someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hannah. It's me."

A pause on the other end.

"Sophie?"

I leaned against the wall. The puncture wound on the back of my hand hadn't closed yet. Pressing the receiver against it stung.

"I don't have anywhere to go. Can you find me a place to rent in Houston?"

Hannah didn't ask why.

I heard her chair scrape back. Then her voice dropped.

"Just you?"

I looked down at the loose hem of my hospital gown.

"Just me."

A long silence.

"Okay. Do you want it close to a hospital?"

"Close."

"South-facing?"

I closed my eyes.

"Doesn't matter."

"I'll look at places today," Hannah said. "Call me when you get in."

I held the receiver, and my throat moved.

"Thank you."

"Don't. Just get yourself to Houston in one piece."

The call ended.

I put the receiver back and walked slowly along the wall back to my room.

There was a photo tucked under my pillow.

I pulled it out.

Five years ago, after the old dam collapse. Ethan and I stood outside the rescue tent, both of us covered in mud. His hand was resting on my shoulder, his smile exhausted. I was smiling too, and on my wrist was the GPS bracelet, freshly clasped.

The corners of the photo had started to curl.

I looked at it for a long time. Then I turned it over, held it against my chest, and tucked it into the inner pocket of my hospital gown.

I didn't want anything else.

Only this.

Outside, another rescue vehicle drove past, its tires crashing through standing water.

I walked to the bed, set the sealed bag on the pillow, pulled open the drawer, and took out the hospital discharge form.