Prologue

David

I've always hated hospitals, but I especially hate this one. The stench of suffering clings to the air like a heavy, suffocating cloak. The harsh smell of disinfectant and the sight of stark white walls makes my stomach churn.

I glance ahead and my heartbeat picks up as I get closer to his room. I stop and reach out to knock but then I pause, my fingers reflexively curling into a fist. I mutter a soft curse, raking my fingers through my hair.

I'd convinced myself earlier that I could do this—that I'd keep a cool fa?ade and make it through this for him. The reality on the other side of the door scares the shit out of me and, if it was up to me, I'd never turn the knob…

Curbing the urge to turn away from the door, like I've done several times in the past month, I take a steadying breath and rap my knuckles against the door before pushing it open without waiting for a response, not giving myself a chance to change my mind again.

The first thing I notice when I step into the large, airy hospital room are the beeping machines hooked to my best friend, Harry. He looks frail, a gray twinge coloring his skin, showing the toll the cancer has taken on his whole body.

His daughter, Tara, is sitting upright in the chair next to her father's hospital bed, grasping his limp hand. She looks pale, like she hasn't left this room in days. Her usually bright and flowing blonde hair is hidden under a Seattle Mariners cap and she appears to be fading away under her sweatshirt. Yet, her green eyes—just like her father's—are filled with determination. Despite only being freshly eighteen, Tara has been through more than most people her age could handle.

"Hey," I say quietly, stopping a few feet from the bed.

"Hi," she replies, not quite looking at me. Her voice is weak. Listless.

I hand her some cash, hoping to give her an opportunity to get out of here for a little bit. "You look tired. Here, why don't you get yourself a cup of coffee? Maybe get some air too…"

She starts to shake her head. "But…"

"Your dad is sleeping anyway," I say, cutting off her objections. "Take your time. I'll be here."

Her eyes flash with the smallest hint of gratitude before darkening once again. She's too young to go through the pain of watching her father die, especially after losing her mother only a few years ago. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Thank you," she murmurs finally, standing up from her seat. "I'll be back soon."

I nod in response and watch her leave. As the door shuts behind her, I lower myself to her seat and reach for the abandoned book on the bedside table; something about renewable technologies and eco-friendly practices. Tara has always been a bit…nerdy, following her father around as he explained our latest environmental technology developments and showing nothing but pure interest in the subject.

I take Tara's seat and take my first real look at my best friend since the cancer spread. His face, once radiant with life, is now sunken, ravaged by sickness. The cancer seems to have eaten deep into his soul and sucked up all of his essence. It's so hard seeing him like this. That's why I've stayed away under the guise of being busy running our company, until Tara called me this morning.

She's never reached out to me on her own before, despite my numerous assurances she could call me for anything, ever. When I saw her name appear on my phone, I knew it was the end of the road for Harry. She urged me to get down here as soon as I could to say my goodbyes. So, I did.

Harry Schultz used to be so energetic… so full of life. When I first met him eleven years ago at a climate change symposium, I knew we had to work together. His presentation on the impacts of climate change was so detailed, so captivating that I immediately knew we could change the world, together. After sharing our first of many drinks, he proposed we become business partners. I was immediately on board, and the idea for our company was born right then and there.

I was twenty-three, fresh out of college and bursting with ideas on how to transform the energy industry. Harry was twenty- eight and working for a solar panel manufacturer, itching to do more in the sustainable space.

We started out in the basement of his house with barely enough capital to keep us afloat. I got busy inventing what was to be our company's main technology: a microbe that is capable of metabolizing different sorts of chemical and petrochemical waste into usable fuel. Harry, on the other hand, worked on scaling the tech and implementing it in real-world spaces. He approached potential investors and pitched our technology to them. He was the face of the company, and I was content working behind the scenes. It took loads of hard work, endless investor pitches, and us basically living together for years to get our idea off the ground, but today MicroBot Technology, Inc. has become one of the most successful and influential companies in the green energy and technology industry.

This was supposed to be our time of celebration, to finally reap the benefits of what we spent so many years sowing. But the universe had other plans. Just as our company went public, Harry, who put off a few too many doctor's visits in the pursuit of our dream and to care for his daughter after his wife's accident, was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer.

As I stew in the unfairness of it all, I hear a rustling from the bed beside me.

"How do you feel?" I ask, patting his arm.

"Like a train wreck," he replies with a humorless smile, and then his brows deepen into a slight frown. "Where's Tara?"

"I asked her to get herself some coffee."

"She must be exhausted. I hate having to put her through this."

My gut tightens at the gut-wrenching guilt and sadness in his once vivid, now ever-dimming green eyes. "It's not your fault you're sick, Harry."

He scoffs lightly and looks away from my gaze. He remains silent for a moment, his gaze fixated pensively on the ceiling and when he speaks again, his voice is haunted by regrets.

"Maybe I should have taken better care of myself," he says quietly, his gaze distant. "You know… I should have taken my doctor's appointments more seriously, then the cancer would have been discovered earlier. Oh, maybe if I hadn't let Mary leave after our argument that night, she wouldn't have gotten into that accident… she'd be here to take care of Tara after I'm gone."

"You can't still be blaming yourself for that, Harry. Mary's accident was just that… an accident," I say, caught by surprise at him still harboring this guilt even after two years of therapy. Harry has always been spectacular at hiding his pain. I wish he had let me shoulder some of his burdens. I should have been better for him.

"I'm so afraid of leaving Tara all alone, David. She's too young to have lost both her parents," Harry says, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Harry…" I mutter, my voice catching in my throat.

Suddenly, he reaches and grabs my hand. His grip is surprisingly strong, contrary to his frail appearance. There is a desperate urgency in his eyes as they bore into mine.

"Please, take care of my daughter, David," he says, his eyes brimming with a raw anguish that tugs at my heart. "She's going to need you. Promise you'll be there for her."

I nod solemnly, closing my hand over his. "I'll look after her, Harry. I promise, I will be better for her."