Page 517 of End Game

“So,” he says, “nobody fucked this up. But something happened, and it'd be stupid not to learn from it.”

Ronan leans forward. “Like, not everyone should disable alerts simultaneously.”

“That seems like the headline.”

“We can rotate,” Micah says. “If somebody needs a break from them, say it first.”

Dex raises his hand. “Can my shift never be overnight?”

“No,” four voices answer.

His hand drops. “Worth trying.”

A smile pulls at my mouth. “Also, all of you need to know where my meter is and how to use it.”

“I know how,” Ronan says.

“I know.”

Micah leans forward. “Show me again.”

Dex looks at the meter like it personally insulted him. “Does it involve blood?”

“Yes.”

“I'm out.”

“You have tattoos.”

“Those are artistic blood.”

“That is not a thing.”

“It is emotionally a thing.”

Griffin picks up the meter but hands it to me instead of taking over.

“No one needs an endocrinology fellowship. If I'm awake and acting normal and Dexcom looks weird, this confirms it.”I hold up the ketone meter next. “This one is mostly for sick days and stubborn highs.”

Micah takes it when I hand it over, turning it to find the strip port.

Ronan watches his hands.

Dex watches everybody else.

“If I'm confused or unconscious?” I ask.

Dex answers immediately.

“Call 911.”

“Correct.”

“No stabby detective work first.”

“It’s helpful information, but not necessary.”

“Excellent. I am qualified.”