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tried to make a better life. Even if I always felt a bit empty.
    I had been so hurt and angry and there was a part of me that still was. But that hurt and anger was all mixed up with the love we had shared all those years ago.
    Even when I met Chris and later married him, my soul was somewhere else. I hadn’t realized exactly what I was missing until thirty minutes ago.
    Or maybe I did and I hadn’t wanted to face it.
    Because Yoss was my past.
    And I had made myself believe he was never meant to be my future.
    “Hey, you. How’s the new case?” Tess asked, poking her head around the door.
    I closed Yoss’s file and forced a smile on my face. “Complicated,” I told her.
    “Aren’t they all?” Tess commiserated sympathetically.
    “Some more than others,” I said softly. She had no idea how true that statement was.

    “Hello, Imogen. Jill mentioned you were assigned this young man’s case,” Dr. Howell said. We were standing at the nurses’ station in ICU. I had been making excuses. Filling out paperwork. Checking facts and talking to hospital staff.
    Anything to avoid going into that room again.
    I should pass this off to Tess if I can’t even look at him.
    But I knew I would never do that.
    Yoss was mine.
    Mine.
    Even after all these years I still thought of him that way.
    “Such a sad situation,” Dr. Howell remarked shaking his head. Dr. Howell was an older man with a head full of silver hair and warm eyes behind round frames. I liked him. His bedside manner was competent and compassionate. Frank and to the point, but careful of other’s feelings. I had worked with him many times over the years and he was by far my favorite physician. I was glad he’d be looking after Yoss.
    “I spoke with the detective handling the case from the police department,” I swallowed, my mouth dry. I hated referring to Yossarian as a “case.” It didn’t feel right. As though he were less a person.
    “His name is Yossarian Frazier,” I said quickly.
    Dr. Howell’s eyes widened in amusement. “Yossarian? What an interesting name.”
    “It’s from Catch-22. John Yossarian, the fighter pilot,” I filled in.
    Dr. Howell gave me a strange look, his eyebrows rising. “Yes, I’ve read the book. How do you know he’s named after the character? Did the detective tell you that?”
    I felt my cheeks flame hot and I had to look away from the doctor’s penetrating gaze. “It was just a guess. I’ve never heard of another Yossarian, have you?” I answered lamely.
    “No, I suppose I haven’t.”
    I kept my mouth closed unless further incriminating myself.
    “So did the detective have any other information about our friend?”
    I looked down at the notes I had taken during the angry phone call, though I didn’t need to read them to remember what they said.
    “Only that they aren’t going to do much to find the person who beat him up. To them, he’s just another homeless guy.” I sounded angry and bitter. I didn’t bother trying to hide it.
    Dr. Howell made a noise of disgust. “That’s horrible. How can they look at someone who was hurt the way Mr. Frazier was and not want to seek justice. There’s something wrong with this world when we overlook the ones that need our help the most.”
    “Exactly,” I agreed weakly.
    “I was just about to check on him. Why don’t you come with me? We can discuss his prognosis a little bit more. I’m hoping he will wake up soon. I’ll order another CAT scan for this afternoon if he doesn’t.”
    “I’ve started the paperwork for public assistance to cover his care while he’s here. I’ll have it submitted by the end of the day,” I let the doctor know.
    Dr. Howell headed towards room 102, but I didn’t follow right away.
    The thought of going back into that room and seeing the once vibrant Yoss small and defeated in that bed…
    “Are you coming, Imogen?”
    I hesitated.
    “Yes, sorry,” I said after a beat, following the doctor into Yoss’s hospital