11. BLAKE
BLAKE
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been sick for a year?”
Tessa’s eyes widened, but not with guilt.
With something worse. Fear. The kind that made my medical instincts scream that I’d missed something critical.
And, God help me, I should have seen it sooner.
The slight tremor in her hand as she adjusted the pulse oximeter, the way she subtly shifted to hide her discomfort, the shadows under her eyes.
All classic signs I should have focused on more before her heart stopped.
My pager shrieked. Emergency room. Of course. But the residents were capable of first assessments.
I couldn’t remember the last time hot tears had pricked the backs of my eyes like this.
The tightening in my throat, the heat flashing through my chest …
these weren’t sensations I allowed myself to feel anymore.
But watching Tessa lie there, knowing she’d been suffering while I remained oblivious … I deserved this pain.
Every symptom she must have experienced, every test she’d endured, every doctor who’d, according to Eli, dismissed her. These weren’t just medical facts anymore. They were my failures. Each one a time stamp of when I should have been there, when I should have noticed, when I should have helped.
Because I was the one who’d stopped answering texts, who started missing her family’s holidays. Who created this distance between us, all to protect her, though she’d never know the real reason why.
“When did the symptoms start?” I pressed, but a nurse entered with medications, the door whooshing open on pneumatic hinges.
“Dr. Morrison, pharmacy has questions about?—”
“Not now.” My voice carried an edge that made the nurse pause, the IV bags in her hands swaying slightly. Before she took the hint and left.
“What?” Tessa clutched her sheet to her chest like armor, as if cotton threads could shield her secrets from my medical scrutiny.
“You’ve had extensive blood work.” I moved closer, desperate for answers. “Why?—”
The sound of footsteps entering turned the question to dust in my mouth.
“Tessa!” His voice struck my spine like a reflex hammer as Eli—the alleged ex-boyfriend—bulldozed his way into her room. The sharp scent of his expensive cologne corrupted the sterile hospital air as he went right to her side like he belonged there. Like he had the right.
I watched his hand grip hers, saw his lips press against her forehead, noted the obvious intimacy in their shared gaze. Each gesture felt like acid in my veins.
A quick glance at the monitors showed her heart rate stabilizing at his touch, and that observation hit harder than any kick to the ribs could have.
“God, I was so worried when they called me,” Eli said, and the genuine concern in his voice made it worse somehow.
I assessed him with clinical detachment. Or tried to. How long had they dated? What did she see in him? Based on what I could see, he was nothing special. Not even close to what she deserved.
“I’m fine.” Tessa offered him a weak smile and patted his hand. A gesture I’d seen her give me a hundred times before, back when I was the one she trusted.
I wanted to snap his fingers off.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked.
Another sound joined the chorus of music notes, this one warning of a low IV bag that needed changing. Just one more interruption in a day full of them.
“In case of emergency,” he replied.
The IV pump’s alarm grew more insistent, its digital display flashing red.
“Oh … right.” She gripped the sheet tighter with her left hand. “I forgot to change that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Eli swept a fallen hair off her forehead with the casual intimacy of someone who’d done it a hundred times before.
My own hands twitched, remembering how she used to fall asleep during movie nights, her head on my shoulder, and I used to sweep her fallen hairs back into place.
“I told you, I’ll always be here for you. Always.”
The way he said it—it sounded to me like maybe he was the one who broke up with her. What kind of a moron would let someone like Tessa go? Then again, who was I to judge? I’d preemptively done the same thing, albeit for different reasons. The reasons that kept me awake at night.
“If you’ll excuse us,” I cut in, my doctor voice sharp enough to slice, “I was about to complete an exam.” And find out what the hell has been going on this past year.
“Doctor,” Eli began, “you have to help her.” His voice cracked with an edge of fear as he snapped his focus to me. If his fear wasn’t about Tessa’s health, I’d have rather enjoyed it.
“Eli—”
“I thought you were getting better,” he added.
The words choked me with their implications. Better? Just how sick had she been?
“I was.” Her voice was small, defeated in a way I’d never heard before. The sound made my ribs threaten to splinter.
When I watched him pull up a chair to her bedside, his palm settling on her arm with casual possession, the room became an inferno.
This was the arm of a girl who used to be the epicenter of my own personal snow globe, the two of us warm and safe inside our bubble while the world spun outside.
I knew her favorite food—mac and cheese with extra breadcrumbs—how she liked to sprinkle cinnamon across the whipped cream on her hot chocolate, and the way her eyes lit up when she found a new romance novel.
I knew she hummed when she was happy and went quiet when she was truly upset. I knew her.
Or I had. Now, with absolute crushing, heartbreaking clarity, I stood on the outside of her snow globe, watching this stranger occupy the space I’d willingly abandoned.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d stepped away to protect her, only to leave her unprotected when she needed someone most. If I hadn’t pushed her away … I could have helped her.
What if it’s too late?
“Please,” Eli pleaded. “Someone has to get to the bottom of this. She can’t go on like this.”
“Eli …” Her voice wavered. Another tell I logged away. Fatigue? Fear? Both?
“No, you have to keep fighting, Tess.”
Tess. I wanted to shock his heart for using that term of endearment.
“I need to examine her.” I moved to the bed, removing my stethoscope with an edge that made Eli finally seem to get the message, assessing me, then Tessa.
“Oh, right …” Standing up, he added, “I’ll be just outside, okay?”
His lips pressed to her forehead again, lingering a moment too long.
I wanted to cut his lips off with a ten blade. And something about the gesture set my teeth on edge too. A nagging sense of unease that I couldn’t quite shake. Was he having trouble letting her go? Was she afraid of him?
Once he finally left, I turned my attention back to her, and that’s when I saw it.
A jagged line on her skin that would change everything.