14
Zander
Painful Nicknames
I WAITED UNTIL I KNEW FOR SURE she was asleep. Until her legs twitched and her body went loose on the lawn. Only then did I slip from my bedroom where I’d been watching her, grabbed the grey sherpa blanket from my couch (that came in handy whenever I passed out from a long surgery), and slipped out the front door.
I was halfway to her house before I realised why I couldn’t be seen on the street carrying a blanket, why I couldn’t sneak through her gate at almost four in the morning, and why I couldn’t go anywhere near her as Zander North.
Fuck.
My phone weighed a thousand pounds in my black pyjama pocket. Our second conversation and I no longer feared this would end badly for me, I knew it.
The expression that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach might work on some, but for me? The way into my heart was to let me care. To trust me enough to put your very life in my hands, and tonight, she’d done that.
She’d gone to sleep outside.
She’d trusted that I’d watch over her. She trusted a stranger with shady means of communication to guard her against all other men, including the one who’d covered her in bruises.
I wasn’t just in trouble, I was fucked.
Gran had always said I fell quick and hard. Give me anything injured, and I became utterly obsessed with making it better again. I’d devote every waking moment, every penny and effort, and if whatever creature I was trying to help died? Good God, it broke me.
I should’ve remembered that before I gave her the phone.
I should’ve recalled all the heartbreak of my youth when I wasn’t good enough to save a life.
And to make an already bad situation worse, she’d asked me to call her Lori.
A name I’d accidentally given her.
A name I’d used on the rare times she visited, secretly loving that it got under her skin.
Ugh, this was a terrible idea.
I’d agreed to watch her all night like an unemployed fool. At least I wasn’t working tomorrow but still…what sort of idiot agreed to stand in the bushes and watch a girl sleep on the lawn when she should be safely behind lock and key?
What possessed her to reply to me? Why hadn’t she used common sense and told me to take a flying leap off a cliff or buy herself a gun?
Hugging the blanket, I stalked to the side door of my garage and snuck inside. I didn’t dare turn on the light and used my phone torch to locate the old motorcycle scarf that I used whenever I rode my Harley.
The sleek machine rested under its canvas cover, looking dejected in the middle of neatly organised shelves of tools and offcuts. I’d bought the motorbike the day I graduated. It’d been half a dare, half a rebellion.
I’d pledged my life to saving all those in need of saving, yet the weight of that pledge? It crushed me with responsibility. It’d driven me into rocky territory that made me test the boundaries of my own life. After a long day in surgery or an awful afternoon of losing a patient, revving my bike and zooming like a reckless idiot was the perfect antidote to the uber conservative, overly safe doctor in my waking life.
Yanking the cover off the bike, I ran my fingers over the chrome handlebars and inhaled the rich scent of metal and oil.
I hadn’t ridden it in over three years.
Most days, when I drove home from the hospital, I could barely see straight from exhaustion. I’d also seen enough motorcycle accidents that the kamikaze asshole inside me was quite content to drive a safe Chrysler these days.
But for the first time in a while, the urge to fly through the night made me ache for freedom. Freedom to have a life, make mistakes, and not let down thousands of people by being human.
Dammit, enough already.
Sucking in a deep breath, I found my helmet and the half balaclava waiting where I’d placed them last. The white print of a skull’s jaw on the black material looked a bit ghoulish in the glow of my torch. It would probably petrify her if she woke up.
Ah well, better than nothing.
Shoving the fabric over my head, I yanked it up until it covered just below my eyes then fisted the blanket and sneaked through the palings between our back gardens.
They creaked a little, but Sailor didn’t move.
She didn’t stir as I crept across the stepping stones and over the springy grass. She mumbled a little as I draped the blanket over her then sighed as I stole a cushion from the reading chair in the little pagoda in the west corner and tucked it beneath her head.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have broken my vow not to go near her.
But…I couldn’t help it.
The shadows under her eyes spoke of her exhaustion.
The pinched sorrow in her face.
How many sleepless nights had she suffered to pass out this hard?
Was it the memories keeping her up or the nightmares?
I made a mental note to ask her next time she messaged me as X.
Next time?
I balled my hands and returned to the shadows.
Do you hear yourself?
There shouldn’t be a next time. This time was dangerous enough.
I knew I should stop.
I knew I should march over to her house tomorrow and tell her it was me all along. I needed to confess that I was lying through my teeth all while saying I’d always be truthful. I couldn’t have her tell me anything too personal as X because when she found out it was me, the betrayal she’d feel would be catastrophic.
Damn, this is a mess.
With my chest too tight and nerves too stretched, I went to stand by the palings so I could sneak out quickly if she woke.
And that was where I stood as the stars slowly faded and the sky lazily lightened and dawn brought a new day.
* * * * *
Lori: How old are you?
I smirked at the message that was waiting for me when I finally had time to check my phone after a long morning in surgery two days later.
I’d let my guilt fester and argued with myself each time I glanced at her from my windows. At least I’d had enough self-control not to give in to the temptation of messaging her.
I still couldn’t shake the fact that every time we spoke, I was betraying her.
But…I’d also given myself a get-out-of-jail free card.
I could message her if she messaged me.
If she reached out then—in my twisted logic—she’d accepted me as X and Zander, even if she didn’t know it.
Plus, I said I’d watch out for her, so I owed her a reply just in case she needed me.
Remember your other rule?
I sagged a little in my chair.
Seeing as I did better with rules, I’d drawn up a tight little contract for myself.
I could message her whenever she messaged me, but I couldn’t instigate. And I was allowed to keep this going for one month. After one month, if she was no better, it proved I sucked as a counsellor, and she needed to see a professional. That would also be the day I confessed it was me.
Sipping my coffee, I adjusted my glasses and replied.
Me: I’m one hundred and two but don’t worry, I can still beat up anyone who dares go near you uninvited.
Putting my phone down, I went to the communal fridge to grab the leftover pasta I’d made last night. It wasn’t often I cooked but Sailor had groceries delivered again yesterday, and a pottle of spaghetti sauce had fallen out as she’d collected the bags while I’d gathered my mail.
I’d had a hankering, so went to the store to get my own, even though I’d hated that she stiffened when she saw me hop into my car.
I’d waved and tried to remember how to talk to her as Zander instead of X, just in case she said anything. But she scurried away in a rush.
I didn’t get it.
Apart from a bit of teasing and name-calling growing up, I hadn’t done anything to justify the mix of shame and fear in her blue eyes whenever she saw me.
If I was honest, it hurt.
No, it killed.
Especially because she seemed to like X—a faceless stranger she’d never met—over the man who’d been her neighbour her entire life.
What is it about me that’s so offensive?
My phone vibrated across the table.
Lori: Somehow, I don’t think that’s the truth. What happened to the promise of honesty?
I groaned and wedged my elbows on the table. Running my hands through my hair, I hung my head. I’d changed her contact from LL to Lori the same night I’d stood by her fence and watched her until dawn.
Unfortunately, thanks to that chosen nickname, I couldn’t get the past out of my head. The memories of her as a scrawny girl with pigtails or that time she came to visit and ended up with chicken pox. She’d looked atrocious, all spotty and sick yet…I’d spent more time over at Melody’s in those two weeks than I ever had, not so subtly trying to help her get better.
When Sailor and her parents had left, Melody hugged me so hard. She’d thanked me for taking such great care of her granddaughter then giggled that she couldn’t wait for us to grow up and fulfil her and Mary’s dream of marrying their offspring to each other.
I’d scoffed, stolen a brownie, and bolted.
I’d forgotten all about it by the time Sailor visited three years later.
X: Fine, I’m twenty-nine. And that’s all the personal information you’re getting.
I went to press send but stopped.
Whoops, close call.
She was good at this. Too good. And I knew my weaknesses when it came to outsmarting wily people. The more information I gave her, even tiny tidbits like my age, the more she’d start painting a picture of who I was.
She might one day look next door and put the pieces together.
Deleting my message, I retyped.
X: I’m thirty-four. Now stop asking personal questions.
Lori: Don’t you want to know how old I am?
I already know. Your birthday is on the 9 th of May. You’re six years younger than me. Melody would bake you a lemon meringue cake each birthday with lemons from her own tree.
X: Let me guess, you’re sixteen, and I’m breaking yet another law just by talking to you.
Lori: Ha ha. It would serve you right if I was. But really? Do I look that young? That fragile?
I didn’t know how we’d become this familiar with each other so fast.
What was it about a screen and a keyboard that allowed an ease to form that never seemed to be this simple in person?
I just thanked every star in the galaxy that she’d never known my number as Zander because, thanks to the stupid decision to use my own details, she was far too close to the truth already.
Nausea suddenly filled me at the thought of never talking to her this way again.
Me: Fine. You look twenty-three.
Shit, unsend. Unsend !
Too late.
What was I thinking using her real age?
Lori: Have you been in my house?
Me: Why would you ask that?
Lori: Because you broke your rule about coming near me and gave me a blanket in the garden the other night.
Shit.
My hands shook.
Me: I couldn’t leave you uncovered. It just wasn’t possible.
Lori: I should follow through with my threat to make you regret coming near me.
Me: Will you?
Lori: I should be freaked out that you were close enough to touch me.
Me: But you’re not?
Lori: I shouldn’t admit this but no…I’m not.
Me: I would never touch you without your consent. I merely sheltered you.
Lori: I don’t know what this says about me but…I believe you. And thank you. And now, please answer my question. Have you broken another rule and been in my house? Because your answer about my age doesn’t feel like a lucky guess. Have you been snooping in my paperwork?
“Goddammit, Zan, you suck so badly at this—”
“Uh-oh, muttering to yourself is the first sign of insanity.” Colin chuckled as he barged through the door and filled the staff room with his blinding personality. Clipping over to me in his dress shoes, he eyed up my pasta, then swiped my phone straight out of my hand.
“Hey!” I stood, trying to snatch it back. Bracing against me, he curled himself over my phone and scrolled quickly through the text thread.
I snarled, “Do you mind?”
Tossing me the phone back, he smirked and headed to the coffee pot. “Just making sure you’re not going to jail. Yet.”
“Christ, don’t even joke.”
Pouring himself a cup, he sat down at the table and gave me a genuine smile. “How’re you doing? Judging by her replies, she seems to have accepted her friendly neighbourhood stalker.”
Sinking into my chair, I groaned at the ceiling. “If anyone is going to get me in trouble, it’s you. Keep your damn voice down.”
“You’re right.” Leaning forward, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So…tell me. Is she already in love with you and ready to see the man behind the screen or are you still going along with this?”
“How on earth could she be in love with me? She doesn’t even know me.”
“She’s known you her entire life, dickhead.”
“You know what I mean. Him. X.” I flicked a glance at the door and whispered, “Her friendly neighbourhood stalker.”
Sipping his coffee, he eyed me. His smile fell a little as he no doubt noticed the sleep deprived lines making me look every bit of my lie of thirty-four. I scratched my clean-shaven jaw self-consciously. “What?”
He sighed heavily. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Sacrificing your own health for another’s. What have we talked about?” Pointing at me, he scolded. “Remember the oxygen mask rule? You can’t help others unless you help yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Don’t yeah, yeah me.” Dropping his palm on the table, the loud smack made both of us flinch. “I think it’s good that you’re connecting with her, but I also don’t like that you’re staying up all night watching her or sacrificing your own mental health by falling for this girl all while she falls for someone who isn’t you.”
“There’s no falling involved. We’re just…friends. Not even friends. I’m just helping.”
“There’s that word again, Zan. You and helping isn’t a good mix. It’s great when you’re on the payroll and got your scrubs on but outside of this place?” He arched an eyebrow. “You need to have better balance.”
I sighed.
I wanted to argue but…he was right.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I nodded. “Fine.”
Cupping his ear, he leaned into me. “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
I chuckled. “I said I’ll work on getting better balance, jackass.”
“Good boy.” Grabbing his empty cup, he headed toward the sink. “I’m hosting the monthly poker night at my place on Saturday. You’ll be there, right?”
My watch erupted with an alarm, reminding me I needed to check on my patient in recovery. Following him from the staffroom, I nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“And you won’t stand me up if your little damsel needs help?”
“Ah well, I can’t promise that.” I slapped him on the back. “After all, I’m providing a service.”
“You could always bring her. Markus and Oscar are bringing their wives. They’re planning on drinking cocktails on the balcony while we men gamble and drink beer.”
“Somehow, I can’t see that happening.”
He sighed dramatically. “Not as X no. But as Zander…it could.”
I flipped him the bird as I headed down the corridor.