Chapter 11: Open the Door

Deirdre's POV

I had read the first page twice before he came up the stairs.

It was a donor registration form, filled in by hand in March.

One box in the middle had a name in block capitals.

DEIRDRE KILBRIDE.

Under it, in smaller letters: she's my friend. Please make sure she gets it.

The second page was a hospital record.

It said the designated recipient's status had been marked withdrawn at 8:12 on the morning of October twenty-first.

It was signed by the committee chairman.

The third page showed where the heart had gone.

I held the folder against my chest and the pack on my shoulder hummed, steady, doing its work.

"The heart was Katie's," I said.

"Yes."

"It was meant for me."

"Yes."

"You knew that in the car. When you held my wrist. When you let Dermot give me a muffin."

"I knew it in the hospital," Donovan said. "At four in the morning, before you were told anything."

He stood in the doorway with his hands at his sides.

He didn't come in, and he didn't ask me to hear him out.

I understood that he was giving me room.

I hated him for it, because it was the right thing to do.

"You told me you'd never lie to me," I said.

"I haven't."

"You let me walk around for twelve days thinking nobody on earth had chosen me." My voice cracked on the last word, and I made it go on.

"I lay in that bed and thought nobody wanted me to live."

I pointed at the folder.

"One person did. She was on a form in your house, and you were sleeping with me."

"Deirdre."

"You said the rule was no lies. You said if you couldn't tell me, you'd say not yet."

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