Chapter 17: The Weekender

Tobias's POV

The letter was one page, on the letterhead of a hospital pharmacy laboratory.

It said that two samples labeled as clomiphene citrate, fifty milligrams, contained lactose monohydrate and a binder and no active ingredient.

It said that a third sample, labeled letrozole, matched its label.

Under that was a signature, a title and a date.

I read it twice, because the first time I only saw the words.

The second time I remembered the kitchen.

Brynn stood at our island four years ago, a month after Samantha's father died, holding a small white bag.

"I'm at the pharmacy anyway," she had said. "Let me do it. One less thing."

Samantha had cried and thanked her.

I had thanked her too.

Every month after that, there was the bag, and the joke about Samantha's cycle, and the two of them laughing in my kitchen.

I had never once picked up the bottle myself.

The cockpit was loud with the water against the hull and Brynn's voice, high and fast.

"Tobias. Tobias, look at me. It's a piece of paper from a friend of her sister. You can't believe that."

I looked up.

She was standing now, with her hands out.

Samantha sat on the other bench with her arms around her knees, and she did not say a word to me.

The man who ran the foundation kept his eyes on the sail.

I knew every person on this boat was waiting to see what I would do.

I did not know what I would do either.

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