8. Emma
CHAPTER 8
EMMA
I t’s kind of damp sitting here on the ground. If it wasn’t so warm, it would probably make me sick from the cold. But it is warm and I will dry off, whenever Liam decides to allow me to stand again.
I’d be angry if he wasn’t right.
“So what brought you to this course?” asks Liam.
I don’t honestly believe he cares. But he’s trying, I suppose. I humor him. “Work sent me. Why do you want to know?”
“Just trying to make conversation,” he sniffs. Clearly, he’s trying to take my mind off the throbbing agony in my foot. Not that I want to admit to him that it hurts.
Not that admitting would make a difference at this point. He can clearly see that I’m injured.
“So, where is work for you?” Liam asks, not done with his line of questioning.
I recognize the tactics. This is about to turn into patient small talk, where he asks questions to make me feel comfortable enough to talk to him. I’ve done this myself. And even though I can see right through him, I can’t help but answer. “I’m from San Francisco.”
I don’t suppose there’s any harm in telling him that. What’s he going to do? Stalk me?
Time to put that thought to bed.
“Oh, really? So am I. What part?”
“Well, I live a few blocks from work, and I work at Rogers Memorial.” He chuckles at that, and I frown. That’s not very humoring-the-patient of him. “What? Why are you laughing?”
“No, it’s nothing. It’s just… I work at Hope General.”
“No way,” I blurt. Hope General is our rival; we’re constantly competing to be among the top hospitals in the state. “How do you like it there?”
“I like it well enough,” he says with a shrug. “The workload is good. The hours are reasonable. I can make a big difference in the lives of patients who need my expertise. My colleagues are dedicated. And a million of these trainings wouldn’t do a thing to make them work harder. They all make patient care a priority. Even the janitors.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. “Everyone at Rogers works so hard. I don’t think we get the recognition we deserve.”
For probably the first time since I’ve met him, Liam’s face splits into a smile. I can’t pretend that I don’t find it charming. It makes his whole face light up, giving him an almost boyish handsomeness.
“Growing up,” he says, “I realized that working hard was the only way to get ahead in life, something that should be championed. Something that we should all try to do.”
I smile. “I hear that.”
A beat of silence passes between us as we agree without words. I think I understand now why my comment about work ethic wound him up so much earlier.
This is a man who cares about work more than anything else. Just like me.
The realization sets off a flutter in my chest, one I can’t ignore.
“Hey, isn’t it funny?” I say. “We don’t live that far from each other, but if we’d never attended this course, we probably never would have met.”
Again, there’s a pause, like neither of us quite knows what to say next. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s one that feels like a damper. Like a void that we’re both staring into.
Then he leans in a little towards me. “So we’re throwing in the towel, right? I know you think this is all as ridiculous as I do. Let’s go back to the hotel and grab a drink together. A proper one, this time.”
“You’re not going to be abusive to the staff again, are you?” I say, raising both eyebrows at him.
“Abusive is a strong word,” he says with a pout. “What did I just tell you about working hard? I don’t think it should matter where you work. You should take pride in it, even if it seems to be menial.”
I hum as I consider his words. “I guess. But most people are just doing their best most of the time.”
“Not a good excuse, as I told you. Your best should at least come with following proper protocol.”
“And you’ve never made a mistake at work?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. Liam stiffens up at my words, sitting up and slightly away from me, and it’s only then that I realize how close he has started to lean in.
Earlier, I might have wanted to keep fighting with him, but here on the forest floor, surrounded by the wilderness, the beauty of the trees and the chirps of the insects, it feels pointless to argue. That, and for the first time, I’m making a breakthrough with him.
We’re actually seeing each other as humans for a change.
“You work hard, right?” I ask, trying to salvage the good mood that we had been fostering between us. “That’s why this means so much to you.”
He hesitates, his face flickering through an emotion I can’t name. Something like recognition, perhaps.
Then he nods and, with a wry smile, says, “That’s what they make fun of me for, you know. Being too serious about my work. About taking on too many overtime hours.”
“I don’t remember the last day off I had,” I say, smiling back at him. “I’ve barely ever even taken a sick day.”
“It’s something to be proud of,” Liam says. “That dedication. Too many people don’t want to work at all. It’s not good when you’re a doctor. You have to give this job everything you are.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “My friend, my best friend, she’s always telling me I should relax more. That it’s not a good thing to work to burnout. That if I have vacation hours, I should take them.”
“She’s not a doctor, is she?”
“No, she’s not.”
This conversation has him fired up enough that I’m treated to a lengthy discussion about work ethic and how he’s worked hard to be where he is. I don’t doubt he has.
The more I’m getting to know Liam, the more I’m seeing that working hard is the core of who he is. That work is a substitute for life for him. We’re the same in that way.
It’s only Phoebe that keeps me from being a complete workaholic.
When he hits a natural pause in his ramblings, I cut in. “I think I’m feeling better now. Help me to stand?”
He does, and I try to ignore the way my hand slips easily into his.
I wince as I slowly put some pressure on my ankle. It’s less sore than earlier, and much as I hate to admit that he was right, the rest was good for it. “I think I can walk,” I say, testing my theory with a careful step forward.
“Let me help you,” he says, offering his arm.
Under any other circumstance, I would have rejected him, told him to stop assuming what I can and can’t do. But right now, I do need the support.
Slowly, I reach out, letting him wrap his strong arm around my waist as I loop an arm over his broad shoulders, and together we start limping out of the forest.