The heart machine beeped in your ear, blocking everything out. The pain. The shouting. Your parents. Knowing it was over. They were sending you back there. Back to the psych ward.

You focused on one thing. One person: Hugh Biggs. The all-star boy down the street, future doctor, and your boyfriend. Or your husband from about 2 hours ago. That was the plan: your parents no longer had the right to decide for you medically. Hughie did. The thing was, your Ma didn’t know. No one knew. Just you and Hughie.

A binder was handed to your father, and he grabbed a pen without hesitation. Signing you away. Again. All it took was one signature—

“Don’t even fucking think about it!” Hugh snarled, storming into the room. “I mean it.”

“Hugh,” Relief flooded your veins at a rapid rate and you practically threw yourself at him. “Thank God.”

”Hughie,” Da strangled out, chest heaving. “You don’t get a say in this, son.”

The boy whose arms were wrapped tightly around you narrowed his eyes in a challenge.

“Oh, I think you’ll find I do.” Hugh retorted and the only person who knew what he meant was you.