By high school, she was skipping classes, sneaking out, and telling everyone I was the boring one. I didn’t mind—until she started spreading rumors to my friends. That’s when I realized her competitiveness wasn’t harmless.
When I enlisted in the Air Force at nineteen, Natalie bet I’d come crawling back in a year. She put a hundred dollars on it. I made it through basic training—and then some. I never saw that hundred.
Now, lying on a hospital bed staring at ceiling tiles as the medical team worked, those old patterns lingered. If she found out about my inheritance, she wouldn’t think, Good for Colleen. She’d think, How do I get my share?
Denise returned with a clipboard.
“We’re admitting you for observation,” she said. “At least overnight, maybe a couple of days.”
I didn’t argue. Sitting up made the room tilt.
She settled me in a two-bed room, the other empty. Adjusting my IV, she said to buzz if I needed anything.
I reached for my phone, instinctively texting someone from my unit who understood discretion. Chief Master Sergeant Boyd, a mentor and friend, got the message: I was in Charleston Memorial’s military wing.
He replied quickly. Need me there?
Not yet, I told him.
The door opened, and I tensed. Not Natalie—just a hospital tech checking vitals. He chatted about the weather, took my blood pressure, and left. Quiet returned.
My mind drifted to the last real conversation with Natalie, years ago at a family barbecue. She’d jabbed about how “real jobs” didn’t involve wearing a uniform and living off the government. I laughed then, but later told her she could keep her opinions to herself. She didn’t.
A knock pulled me from memory.
Denise poked her head in. “You’ve got a visitor,” she said, not asking permission.
Natalie walked in like she owned the place, wearing a sundress and sunglasses pushed into her hair. Her first words weren’t, Are you okay?
“But I heard you were in a crash.”
“Yeah,” I said.
She scanned the room—the empty bed, the IV stand, the monitor beeping.
“You’re really milking this, huh?”
I ignored it. “How did you hear?”
“Charleston’s small,” she said, as if that explained everything. “So what’s going on? I thought you were busy saving the world or whatever you do in D.C.”
“I’m on leave,” I said.
“Leave for what?”
“Personal reasons.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Personal like money?”
“No,” I said.
She smiled as if she didn’t believe me. “I’ve been exploring some investment opportunities. Real estate, small businesses. Could be a good time for family to help each other out.”
Before I could answer, the nurse walked in to check my IV. Natalie watched me like she expected me to crack. Not getting a response, she said she’d be back when I wasn’t so grumpy.
After she left, Denise shook her head.
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