Chapter 9 #2
Beth glanced up from her computer, her eyes going slightly wide the moment she met mine. This Monday was supposed to be smooth sailing—not met with one of my staff upset with me and the other scared for her life. An omen seemed to be a better fit for today’s description.
Slowly lifting the phone dock off of the desk, I stepped as far away from the desk as the cord allowed and let it hang down at my side. “Why don’t you have Avery and Brandon go with you to dinner.”
“Because they’re busy and you’ve been avoiding me.”
Jesus Christ.
“I have not.”
“You have, too. Don’t think I haven’t caught on to your weird attitude since I brought Blake home.”
I had half a mind to sigh and hang up the call—nowhere near ready to have this conversation in the middle of my shift, let alone over the phone.
I didn’t hate Blake, nor did I hate Brandon, contrary to both of my friends’ suspicions.
I simply hated change. The status quo being disrupted in the form of two strangers entering our intimate circle, and therefore, changing the entire dynamic between all of us was, for lack of better terms, fucking exasperating.
No longer were we single bachelors unconcerned with the mainstream culture of partnering up and finding the one.
We’d shifted into a completely different timeline.
One filled with holiday dinners with in-laws and celebrations of milestone anniversaries.
Missed outings out to the bar in favor of cozying up in front of the fireplace, snowed in for the weekend.
Vows and declarations of love overshadowing brotherhood and the stanch desire to go against the status quo every adult fell into eventually when wanting to start a family.
None of which interested me.
Finding myself on the outskirts of both of my friends moving into different life stages was…
Lonely.
Wrinkling my nose, I focused back on Marlow. “I’m busy. Sue me.”
“Too busy to come out to dinner? It’s an hour, Silas. Two, max.”
“When I’m on call, yes.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Wednesday?”
“I was planning on sleeping.”
“Okay. Look, you either agree to a day or I come break into your house and kidnap you. You’ve got those two options. Pick one.”
“I’ll just change the key code.”
“And I’ll ram my car into the side of your house! Two of us can be crazy at once, buddy!”
Clearly, I wasn’t getting out of this. “Why are you so fucking bent out of shape about this? You don’t need my approval for what you do with your life.”
“So, you don’t approve of Blake.”
“I never said that.”
“You literally just did.”
My headache gave a hard throb, pain spidering along both of my temples. The stress of this conversation doing nothing at all to dull it.
What did it matter?
What did any of this matter?
I could sit Avery and Marlow both down tonight and demand for them to break up with their significant others and they wouldn’t.
So, what was the point in begging for my approval?
Who cared what I thought?
Clearly, that never stopped Marlow from going off to that fucking wilderness camp to begin with. And clearly, it never stopped Avery from leaving his ridiculously highly lucrative job in the city to move back here for a man.
“Your choice,” Marlow reminded. “Either way, you’re coming.”
“Is this what’s going to get you off my back? A dinner?”
“It would be a start, yeah.”
I sighed. “Fine. Thursday. I’ll meet you.”
“Yes!” There was a loud clap on the other end of the phone. “Perfect. We’ll be going to La Palma. Dress nice!”
“Sure thing.”
Pulling the phone up to cradle in the crook of my arm, I settled the receiver back down onto it and brought it back to the desk, Beth taking it back from me immediately to exchange it for freshly printed papers.
“Violet said you wanted these.”
Behind her, the spot my other nurse had occupied was mysteriously absent.
Terran Bishop’s name was at the top of the first set of pages, along with his medical history and the form to discharge him, filled out and ready for me to sign.
A pen was placed by my hand the moment I set the papers back down, Beth turning to address another doctor coming around to drop off a set of folders for the next rotation.
The pen scratched satisfyingly against the pages as I ran through them, each line dated and marked with my signature and printed name, the line next to it left for the patient to sign off on and be scanned back into our database as proof they were leaving of their own volition.
Leaving the pen behind, I gathered the papers into my hands and headed down the hallway, Beth’s laugh carrying on well past the first few doors I passed.
Since Violet was determined to force me into doing this part of the job myself by disappearing and avoiding it altogether, I at least would have confirmation he was leaving.
Hopefully, to never return here again.
The promise of having my mind back to myself instead of being filled with nonsense was comforting. Perhaps by the end of the day, I’d even get rid of this headache.
Terran was sitting up in his bed when I swung into the room, his hand cupped around a small bowl filled with prepackaged fruit that had been dumped into it, his fork poised with a mango up against his lips while he stared out the room’s window aimlessly.
“You’re free to go.”
His head snapped around to face me, his mouth opening just enough to get a glimpse of that pink tongue hiding behind his teeth, running along the bottom row absentmindedly. “Free to go?”
I tossed the papers down onto his lap. “You wanted to be discharged by Monday, didn’t you?”
He set the bowl down onto his tray slowly, gathering the papers in his hands. “But… you didn’t even check me?”
“Are you experiencing any abnormal pain?”
“No.”
“Are you having regular bowel movements, and are able to get up without the need for assistance?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any concerns about the incision site or how to take care of the area?”
“No.”
I forced a professional smile, my cheeks twinging from the movement.
“Congratulations. You’ve been checked and are free to go.
A follow up is scheduled for you to get your stitches removed in a week and to check to make sure everything is still healing properly.
Dr. Jacee will be assisting you with that appointment. The details are in your paperwork.”
There was no jumping for joy like I thought there would be, no celebratory smile or throwing of a fist in the air. No excitement reflecting in his eyes while he stared at me, bewildered, with genuine confusion there instead.
How were they so green?
He ripped his gaze away from me for a split second to leaf through the paperwork—the final page, the date of his follow-up, along with a detailed checklist to walk through for daily care.
Everything he needed would be right there for him to refer back to, as well as whatever care we’d administered to him during his stay.
“Did you need to call a rideshare to come get you?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly. “No, I… My sister will come pick me up.”
Sister.
Were there other siblings?
If so, how many?
Focus.
“One of the nurses will be coming around with a fresh pair of scrubs for you to leave in. You can toss the others you’re wearing in the bin in the bathroom. Any further questions?”
He shook his head again. “Thank you… for everything. For… saving my life.”
I hated the twist my stomach knotted itself into when the unadulterated sincerity of his words reflected in his eyes, too, as he turned to look at me again.
There were too many times to count that I’d found loved ones of patients, and even them themselves, thanking me for what I’d done, the lives I saved and the lives I changed.
Being in this field of work garnered a lot of praise, sometimes an impressive amount that tended to cancel out the grief-stricken families that were sprinkled in between the good cases.
I’d gone into this profession for none of those reasons, finding the overt displays of emotion very overwhelming and sometimes uncomfortable to deal with. I enjoyed the challenge of a puzzle and the added danger of something serious being on the line—much like how Marlow operated.
We were two sides of the same coin, after all. A mirror to what could have been if circumstances were even slightly different.
All of that was to say that putting up a stone wall that separated myself from overly expressive people had saved me from plenty of awkward situations in the past.
Up until now, apparently.
“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.” He spoke quietly.
My throat was too tight to speak, causing my voice to sound gruff. “Don’t.”
He frowned.
Discomfort was kicking up inside of me, raising alarm bells that were supposed to no longer exist.
When was the last time I’d had a panic response?
Ten years?
Twelve?
Longer?
Fucking hell, I needed to get out of this damn room and away from this fucking cop. “Dr. Jacee’s number is on the last page. Call him if you need anything else.”
“Wait—”
Ignoring him, I spun around on my heel and marched out, breathing a sigh of relief the second I was back in the familiar hallways of the hospital’s chaos.