29. Annette & Jamie
Chapter twenty-nine
Annette & Jamie
Before Sunrise
Annette
I don't listen to the voicemail that night.
Or the next morning.
By Thursday afternoon, I've checked my phone often enough that Mrs. Alvarez finally notices.
"You keep looking at it," she says quietly as we straighten the supply cabinet between patients.
"I know."
"Are you expecting a call?"
I glance down at the screen. "No."
She studies me for a moment before asking the question I've been avoiding. "Then what are you waiting for?"
My thumb brushes over Jamie's name without opening the message.
"He called yesterday."
"I gathered that."
"I haven't listened."
Mrs. Alvarez's eyebrows rise ever so slightly. "Why?"
Because I'm afraid.
Because if he says goodbye, I'll have to believe him.
Because if he sounds hurt, I'll know I caused it.
Instead, I answer her with the smallest piece of the truth I can manage.
"I don't think I'm ready."
Mrs. Alvarez closes the cabinet door and leans against it. "You know something I've learned after thirty years in rehabilitation?"
I shake my head.
"People rarely feel ready for the moments that change their lives."
A gentle smile touches her face. "They simply decide they're tired of standing still."
The words settle quietly inside me.
Standing still.
Isn't that exactly what I've spent months telling Jamie not to do? Take the next step. Trust the process. Keep moving even when it hurts. Somewhere along the way...I forgot to follow my own advice.
Mrs. Alvarez gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You don’t have any more appointments today. I'll cover the front desk for the rest of the afternoon."
"I couldn't ask you to—"
"You didn't."
She smiles. "I'm telling you."
Fifteen minutes later, I'm sitting in my car overlooking one of the city lakes where Jamie and I once stopped after grabbing coffee because he'd wanted to watch the ice beginning to melt.
I remember thinking then that spring always looked quiet before it looked beautiful.
My finger hovers over the screen one last time.
Then...
I press play.
Jamie's voice fills the car. Warm. Steady. Achingly familiar.
"Hi, Annette..."
My eyes close instantly. He sounds exactly like himself. No anger. No accusation.
Just...Jamie.
The tears begin before I realize they're there.
When he thanks me...
I cry.
When he admits he'd expected me to understand feelings he'd never actually put into words...
I cover my mouth.
Then he says the words I never imagined I would hear.
"Somewhere between therapy appointments, coffee after rehab, and your lectures about listening to my shoulder instead of my ego... I fell in love with you."
A broken laugh escapes through my tears.
"You stubborn man..."
He keeps talking. Not trying to convince me. Not asking for anything. Simply giving me the truth.
And when he says...
"I'm finally giving you that chance."
...something inside me breaks completely.
The voicemail ends. Silence fills the car.
Outside, sunlight dances across the lake.
Inside, nothing will ever be the same.
***
I don't start the engine.
I don't wipe away the tears.
I simply sit there with my hands wrapped around the steering wheel, staring through a windshield I can barely see.
He loves me. The words echo over and over until they almost stop sounding real.
He loves me. A shaky laugh slips out. "Oh, Jamie..."
For one impossible, beautiful moment, I let myself imagine saying the words back.
Jamie, I love you too.
The thought settles in my heart with terrifying certainty.
Because it's true. I do love him. I think I've loved him for far longer than I ever allowed myself to admit. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks.
And somehow...
That makes my decision even clearer.
Love doesn't erase reality. He's getting stronger every day. Soon his rehabilitation will be finished.
The Blizzards will have their captain back. There will be road trips.
Playoffs.
Endless interviews.
A career he sacrificed everything to build.
A future that stretches so much farther than these hospital walls.
***
If I stay, he'll try to fit me into that future. He'll make room for me because that's who Jamie is. He carries everyone. He always has.
I refuse to become one more person he feels responsible for.
He deserves the freedom to chase every dream he's worked his whole life to reach without wondering whether he's leaving me behind.
My chest aches.
"I love you too," I whisper into the empty car.
The words arrive where he cannot hear.
Maybe that's how they were always meant to.
I reach into my tote bag and pull out the envelope I've been pretending I didn't already prepare.
My resignation.
Tomorrow morning, before anyone arrives, I'll leave it for Dr. Reynolds.
Mrs. Alvarez will understand.
Jamie won't.
Not now.
Maybe someday he'll forgive me. Even if I never forgive myself.
I start the engine. The road leading to my place has never felt so impossibly long.
***
By midnight, my apartment no longer looks like mine.
Books disappear into boxes. Kitchen cupboards stand empty.
The framed photograph that Mom insisted I put on the bookshelf is wrapped carefully in newspaper.
I pause in the middle of the living room.
It echoes.
Funny how quickly a place stops feeling like home once you've decided to leave it. I zip the last suitcase closed and lean against the kitchen counter, letting the silence settle around me.
My gaze lands on a navy coffee mug. Jamie bought it after one of our appointments because I'd complained the hospital coffee tasted better than the coffee maker in my apartment.
"Now you'll have no excuse," he'd said with that infuriatingly satisfied grin.
I trace my thumb around the rim. "You really didn't make this easy," I whisper. The mug disappears into a box marked Kitchen.
A few minutes later my phone lights up.
Keisha Calling
I hesitate before answering.
"Hey."
"You've been crying."
It's not a question. "I'm okay."
"Liar."
I close my eyes. "I listened to the voicemail."
Silence.
Then—
"And?"
"He told me he loves me."
A delighted gasp escapes her.
"Annette!"
"I love him too."
Another silence, this one much heavier.
"What aren't you telling me?"
I swallow hard. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"What?"
"My clinical placement is almost finished. Dr. Reynolds already knew I'd be leaving. I moved my departure up a few days."
"Because Jamie said he loves you?"
"I'm leaving because he deserves the future that he's worked his whole life to build."
"He just told you you're part of that future."
"I can't ask him to choose."
"You aren't asking."
"I would be."
"Annette..." Her voice softens.
"Did Jamie say loving you would cost him his career?"
"No."
"Did he say you'd be holding him back?"
"No."
"Then whose decision are you making?"
The question hangs between us. Mine. "I'm doing what I think is best."
"No," Keisha says quietly. "You're doing what feels safest."
I don't answer. Because if I do...I'm afraid she'll be right.
"I have to go."
"Annette………"
"Keisha, I’ll call you when I’m settled in Idaho. And I’ll call Mom on the way.”
I end the call before she can say anything else.
For a long time, I simply stare at the dark screen. Then I pick up the last box. And carry it to the car.
The parking lot is still almost empty when I pull into Frostholm Medical Center, Walker Rehab entrance. The clock on the dashboard reads 5:41 a.m.
The sky is only beginning to lighten, exactly as I'd hoped.
No patients. No therapists. No difficult goodbyes.
My hospital badge unlocks the employee entrance one final time. The familiar click echoes through the quiet hallway. Everything smells the same. Fresh coffee. Disinfectant. The faint scent of the eucalyptus lotion the therapists keep in the treatment rooms.
For just a moment I let myself stand there. This place changed me, more than any classroom ever could.
I walk to Dr. Reynolds' office and slide a large envelope beneath his door.
Inside is my resignation letter, along with every evaluation, treatment note, and progress update Jamie's next therapist will need.
Every exercise.
Every restriction.
Every milestone.
Everything the next therapist will need.
Professional.
Complete.
Exactly the way Jamie deserves.
My fingers linger on the envelope for a heartbeat before I let go. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
I don't know whether I'm speaking to Dr. Reynolds...
To Jamie...
Or to myself.
On my way out, I pause outside Treatment Room Three. The lights are off and the room is empty. But I can still picture Jamie standing beside the therapy table, stubbornly insisting he could lift more weight than I'd prescribed.
I smile despite the tears. "You were always a terrible patient."
The smile fades. "And the best thing that ever happened to me."
I slip my badge from around my neck.
It suddenly feels much heavier than a piece of plastic should.
Mrs. Alvarez told me once that healing isn't about returning to who you were.
It's about becoming who you're meant to be.
I wish I'd been brave enough to believe that applied to me, too. I set the badge on the reception desk. Then, before the rest of the hospital begins to wake...
I quietly walk away.
Jamie
The coffee shop is already busy when I stop on my way to rehab. Megan grins as soon as I walk through the door.
"The usual?"
"You know me too well."
"And one vanilla latte."
I blink. She folds her arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "You've ordered the same thing every Tuesday and Thursday for almost three months."
I laugh. "I guess I have."
She slides both cups onto the counter. "You finally going to tell her?"
I tuck my wallet back into my pocket. "I already did."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "And?"
"I don't know yet."
"You don't know?"
"I left a voicemail."
She winces. "Ouch..."
"Yeah." I shrug, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "She'll listen when she's ready."
"I hope she says yes."
"So do I."
I pick up both coffees. One for me. One for Annette.
For the first time in weeks...
I'm looking forward to therapy.
The automatic doors slide open as I step into Walker Rehabilitation Center.