CHAPTER ELEVEN
All The Emotions
SERENITY
“Hey mom.” I hold the phone against my ear.
I can hear her shuffle around on the brown leather couch she bought a few years ago. She stays quiet, not saying a single word. The nervousness in my body bubbles, but I need to keep it together.
“I have something to tell you.”
She smacks her lips. Once again, staying silent. I have no doubt in my mind that my father is resting in his lazy chair, reading the paper, and sipping on a piping hot coffee, as my mother stares him down, trying to grab his attention without speaking.
“What is it, Serenity?”
I look at the hallway and the surrounding spaces of the ER. The nurse’s desk is easy to cower behind. If my mother was standing in front of me, her voice sprinkled with a pinch of hazards, I’d duck under the desk. But this is a phone call. Somehow, that’s even more nerve-wracking.
I scrape my tongue across the inside of my cheek. I don’t want to deceive my mother by exaggerating my happiness and pretending my soon-to-be husband exceeds human standards. Further damaging our relationship isn’t something I crave. If she found out I faked morphing into her perfect daughter, that’s the last I’d see of her.
But she’s my mother. I want her to be proud of me.
“I met someone.” The words escape the invisible chokehold I’m in.
“What?” She sounds surprised.
I hear the leather crease again, and my mother’s feet thud onto the ground. She was so happy when she got that couch. For three weeks, all Delilah and I heard was our mother claiming it to be authentic brown leather.
“He’s great.” At least that isn’t a lie.
“Well, that’s amazing, sweetheart.” She hisses the news to my father, and his response is nothing but a low grunt.
The nostalgic mood hits my center. I used to have an okay relationship with them, but Delilah’s downfall was the destruction of all of us. She was always my mother’s golden child. It crushed her when they decided to cut her off. Then I took Delilah in, and they were not happy with me. Ever since then, the love I used to receive fizzled out.
“Alright. Well, I need to go.”
I clench my phone in my palm. The strange mixture of madness and broken inner-child spin around in my stomach. “Ma.” My voice turns flat, with no room to pass through, but I’m just her least favorite daughter. She finds a way to diffuse.
I look at my screen and listen to the singular beep that follows her hanging up.
I want to wave my nursing degree in her face and tape it to her forehead as a reminder. I’m here, still roaming the planet and not buried in a tombstone. I’m here, I’m trying.
My childhood wasn’t the greatest, my parents have always pushed too far. I know that’s why I crave their approval so much.
Delilah’s death wasn’t easy for her, but it isn’t easy for me either. I am the only one that took care of my sister.
I rub my palm on my neck and apply pressure to pop the stress out of my joint. Thinking about Delilah and my situation is a full-time job. One that does not pay. The ER is my sole support at the moment.
My patients consist of two fractures, a broken finger, and a potential concussion. I take all my patients seriously, but stopping a bleed or reviving the dead, this night doesn’t compare. I shift around in my seat before rolling it forward and clicking my fingers against a keyboard.
There’s a tap on my shoulder a minute into me updating patient care documents. The tap lingers on my skin as I spin around. Caleb stands tall above me. His lips curve downwards and his eyebrows furrow.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
He’s in my personal space, so I scoot back my chair.
I said it before. I don’t like Caleb Fletcher. He acts like he can solve every disease with the touch of his fingers, but he’ll only save people if it keeps him out of trouble. He took an oath to help every patient who drifts through our doors, but I see his off-putting glances at patients that have clear values different from his, and his blatant refusal to help addicts beyond what he’s required to. He says addicts are a waste of time.
I can’t believe I dated him.
“What?” I wave my hand at the desk. “I’m filing patient sheets?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Come with me, Serenity.”
I give him a puzzled face. He looks disappointed, almost angry. For what reason, I have no clue. I don’t want to follow him anywhere, but he’s sort of my boss. I don’t have a choice. He might need help with a patient.
Caleb only peers over his shoulder once to see if I’m following him, then continues leading me through hallways. There are a few patients propped in the hallways we pass through, all of them try to grab his attention. He tells each one he’ll be there as soon as he can. Then he flashes a fake smile and struts off.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and keeps on marching until we end up outside of the break room. His feet come to a stop, and he pops open the door.
I follow him inside. The smell of cheap coffee hits my nose, but the scent settles by the time Caleb leans against the gloomy-blue counter.
“Why are you going upstairs to see,” he pauses, “him?”
That’s enough to tick me off. I let out an annoyed chuckle and glance up at the ceiling. Caleb folds his arms over his chest, like he’s justified in stuffing his nose in my business.
“Why do you care?” I mimic his body language and cross my arms.
“You better not be getting involved with him.,” he tells me. “He’s your patient.”
I hold up my palm. “He’s not my patient, and that’s not your business.”
We’re the only two in the breakroom, but the emptiness is suffocating. His eyes have an unnerving gleam that is absent from the rest of him.
“Is this what you do, then? You involve yourself with addicts for the fun of it?” He shakes his shoulders.
There are those moments where I feel alive, and I’m surrounded by the beating of my heart. Then I have moments where nothing else matters. They both carry a similar sentiment. My air fills the sky and so does the knowingness that petty judgment and sadness have no ground here. On this planet, where all of us have limited time.
As his words settle, I know I don’t care what Caleb thinks. I did at one point. The day he told me to stop whining over my sister an hour after her heart stopped. I cared then. But now, I don’t care how his words hurt me. I need to defend my sister. I need to defend Lake.
“Excuse me?” I lean forward. “Sorry you lack the humanity and compassion to care for another human being, Caleb.”
I lay my hand on my chest. “I don’t care for people when it only benefits me. I just care for people.”
He somehow drops his eyebrows more.
“Did you drag me here just for this?” I ask.
“I want you back. Serenity.” He brushes his dirty blonde hair out of his face, sulking at me with blue eyes that I strongly dislike. “Take me back.”
There’s no way he’s being serious. As expected, Caleb stands still. His stare turns from desperate to tense, and his intentions with dragging me here are clear.
It’s pointless to argue with an idiot. I’m no longer interested in whatever he plans to say. I turn to leave, but as my fingers graze the doorknob, harsh footsteps echo behind me and Caleb’s hand lands on my shoulder. He forces me a step away from the door.
“What the hell?” I squeak, turning around.
My nose almost hits his collarbone.
“He’s just some addict, Serenity.” Caleb stoops to meet my eyes. “He’s worth nothing. Stop wasting your time on him.”
My back hits the door. The room is shrinking by the second. I’d love to bite back, but he put his hands on me. My alarm bells are warning me to get out of this room.
“What I do with my time is not your concern. We’re not friends, Caleb.” My voice sways like it’s on a tightrope.
He freezes and glares at me in the most unsettling way possible.
We haven’t been involved with one another in over a year. I broke it off the night Delilah died. I refuse to be with someone who can’t even hide his asshole tendencies.
He tried for months to fix things, but nothing this crazy. Nothing even close to cornering me in our mutual workplace.
“Stop wasting your time on him.” The way his words sting my skin makes me believe he must be breathing poison.
His gaze drops to my lips, and he takes a step forward. My heartbeat is ringing in my ears and thudding around my body. The urge to escape this room skyrockets. Caleb puts one hand on the wall next to me, his coat brushes on my skin.
“He isn’t worth your time,” he whispers. “Serenity. Please. Let me fix this. Let me make you feel good.”
“No.” I blink away his words. “Please take your hand off my fricking face.”
He doesn’t. He leans closer. His lips are merely atoms away from mine. “Shut up Serenity.”
I lift my palm beside me, hunting for the door handle while keeping my eyes on his. When he hears the clink of the silver handle, his hand covers mine, but I manage to open it before anything else. I back out as Caleb stumbles a few steps forward. I don’t bother to watch him find his balance before bolting through the hallway.
Tears flood my waterline quicker than I can move. I scrunch my nose to keep them barricaded. He tried to kiss me. I’m pretty sure he wanted to lock the door.
When I reach the end of the hallway, I glance back to check if he’s following me. The same patients try to wave me over, but I keep my head down and round the corner. I’m too scared to stop moving. Crap. I’m scared.
I wrap my arms around myself, and I slow my pace to check behind me. Caleb is nowhere to be seen. I make my way back to the nurse’s station. A wave of relief washes within me when I spot Lake leaning over the counter. He has one elbow on the surface, making hand actions as he speaks, and he wears a flashy smirk on his face.
As I get closer, I can see the dimple on his cheek. He fixed his hair and now the gentle waves are flowing all around his head like liquid chocolate. The scruff on his face is gone. A clean faced Lake is a stunning Lake.
“Just a little more.” He pinches his two fingers close together.
As I pause for the first time in a minute, it hits me. Lake isn’t supposed to be downstairs. He must sense me, because he abruptly turns. His eyes are wide and that flashy smirk drops from his lips.
“Lake, what are you doing here?” My voice is squeaky and weak.
Rachel chimes in. “Lake? You said your name was Peter?”
Peter is a homeless addict who came in two hours ago because he was near overdose. He isn’t my patient, but I heard about him fast enough.
I drop my shoulders. The tears I kept in are now flowing down my cheeks.
“Oh no. Angel, stop.” He reaches out his arm. I brush him away.
“You barely have enough energy to sit up, but the theory of getting high was enough for you to sneak down here?”
Sadness clouds his face. His hand clenches around his IV so tightly that his knuckles glow white. He’s leaning against the counter, and beads of sweat slide down his face. He is weak. Any energy he had is diminishing. Fast.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ll bring him back upstairs.”
We exchange a subtle glance before she nods. Once she does, I know she won’t call security and have Lake cuffed again. Although I almost think he deserves that. I grab onto Lake’s wrist and drag him along with me.
“Angel, it’s fine.” He’s half pleading.
I ignore him. It’s frustrating that he went through all that trouble for essentially nothing.
I’m furious because Caleb just tried to make a move on me, and I have nobody to talk to. No one. Instead, I’m saving someone again. There’s never anybody to save me. I spent years saving my sister. I’ve spent years saving other people, but I can’t remember the last time someone has given a fuck to ask me if I need some help.
“Talk to me,” he begs, but I ignore him again.
Lake’s IV is wheeling along with us. He’s pulling it with the same arm his IV is attached to. To prevent any twisting or pinching from the needle in his skin, he repeatedly turns his arm. He looks uncomfortable. Good. I’m glad he’s uncomfortable.
I jab my finger at the elevator button. Lake looks around the hallway. He rolls his heels in circles. He can’t stay still as he watches the elevator numbers decline.
“Angel.” He wiggles his wrist in my palm, but I squeeze harder. “The purple is pretty.”
I look at my lavender-colored scrubs. Ugh. I hate how sweet that sounded, innocent almost. I want to tell Lake he looks beautiful with his clean-shaven face and brushed hair. That I’m proud of him for walking so far, and cleaning himself up, given his weakness. Now isn’t the occasion for praise. Especially not when his compliment is selfish, and the whole reason he pried himself out of bed and snuck downstairs is selfish, too.
“How’d you find out about Peter?” I ask, refusing to meet his eyes.
He’s quiet for a moment. “You learn a thing or two when you need something.”
I grit my teeth. “You don’t need anything, Lake.”
The elevator dings and the doors pry themselves apart. As I bring Lake inside, I smack the button to the third floor. I hate how warm it is having him next to me. I’m holding his wrist, not his hand, but it’s still somehow intimate and sweet. We’re alone in the elevator and I’m not suffocated like I was in the break room. I hate how effortlessly I breathe with him. I hate how safe I feel.
Lake stares down at me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. He’ll feel better about what he did because the moment I see that umber color, I’ll melt into a puddle of empathy and compassion. I want him to know how angry I am. I want it to be enough for him to not repeat it. He’s already being let off easily, since I’m not cuffing him back to his bed.
We reach his floor, and I tug him along until we’re back in his room. “What the hell, Lake?”
Lake drops his shoulders. “Serenity. Don’t.” He releases his IV from his hand and exhales while shaking his arm.
The agony punching at my chest grows another three sizes. I worry I’ll lose my edge, but I keep a strong front. “Don’t what? Tell you off for something you need to be told off for?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it.”
“No, Lake. I don’t get it, but I’m here.”
His nose wrinkles. He slouches forward like he’ll collapse at any moment. I don’t reach out to help him sit down. He watches my arms dig into my chest. His eyes get wider. It’s like he can recognize my pissed off, caring energy from somewhere, and that scares him.
“Leave.” He points a finger toward the door. “You’re upset.”
My voice raises. “I’m here.”
His head shakes. “Get out of my room, Serenity.”
“Didn’t you tell me you’d try? Aren’t we supposed to get married?” I say it again, but this time my voice is barely audible. “I’m here.”
I swipe my fingers along my damp cheek.
“Stop saying that,” he demands. “Just go. I’m fine. I’m an adult.”
“Lake. I am here, and I understand you didn’t ask for my help, but I’m giving it to you.” I sniffle. “We’re friends. Right now, you’re hurting me.”
I point my finger at the floor. “You hurt me by going downstairs. So you can apologize and we can move on. You can try to push me out, but I’ll come back, and that’ll only hurt me more.”
He says nothing this time. He stares at me, his mouth ajar. I stare back at him, and I can’t believe how hushed my heart is. As if she’s asleep, pumping soundly.
My heart dreams of tall grass fields with vibrant-painted flowers and singing winds. As I argue with the brittle man, all I see is color. There is no anxiety that he might hurt me. I am at peace, putting him in his place.
But the peace in my veins is not enough to decipher the tiny bombs that Caleb hatched onto my skin. I can sense Caleb’s hands on me. I can hear his voice lurking in my ears, and his voice is only the beginning of my recent problems.
I brush my finger across my runny nose. “Lake, I need you to say sorry because I kind of—” I stop myself, because I can’t rely on him to help me. Lake can’t even help himself.
I cover my face with my hands. I sniffle. There are more tears. I don’t want Lake to see my face. I don’t want to fall apart in front of him. Whenever he needs to, without a second thought or a hitch of hesitation, I want him to crumble in front of me, not the other way around.
I want him to know I’m reliable. That I saved his life and I’ll do it again. But this. This is overwhelming for me. I push my nails into the skin on my forehead and attempt to control my patchy breathing. I try to pull it together.
Lake is silent. The only sound in the room is my breath and the slight scrape of his feet as he shifts closer to me. “I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice timbres. “Don’t think this has anything to do with you, Angel. I’m an idiot.”
I pry my hands from my face, but I keep my head down. Lake’s feet are only a tile and a half in front of me. The tips of his toes peeking out of his baby blue slippers.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
I shake my head at his apology because it’s only part of my reason for crying. My boss pulled me into a room and scolded me about Lake. His lips almost touched mine even though mine were folded, unwilling, and never uttered a yes.
And then I caught Lake downstairs. The man that needs rehab since he’s exhausted every other possibility of sobriety. He made it more transparent that he can’t leave here by himself without marrying me, because he’s been alone for a mere few hours and he wandered downstairs to find the one thing I beg he’ll eventually repulse.
Now he’s standing just outside of my space and all I can think about is inching myself closer until the heat of his presence engulfs me. My lungs seem like they’re reducing, my head is spinning, and I know, deep in my soul, the only fix is for him to come closer. It’s almost like he can sense that desperation.
He mutters, “not good,” just loud enough for me to hear.
He reaches out his arm as my breathing becomes so irregular I can’t differentiate my inhales from my exhales. But then he hesitates, and his arm drops to his side.
“Listen, Angel, I’m sorry.” He clamps his hand around his thigh over his sweatpants. His fingers flex every few seconds in my direction.
“‘Cause of my actions,” he adds. There’s concern pouring out of each syllable.
I raise my head and crook my neck back to examine Lake’s eyes. It’s easy for me to forget that he’s an entire skyscraper, and me being five-six is short to him. I would say it intimidates me, but the way he stills and softens when he observes my panicked face is capsizing. His lips part and his hand unlatches from his sweatpants.
“Angel.”
I slap my hand onto my chest as my breathing turns to full on gasping. This isn’t normal for me. Something is happening to me. It feels like a full-body cast, made of iron, and held above a burning flame, has just clung to every inch of my body.
Caleb lurking too close replays in my mind. Getting married is the only hope I have to salvage my life from falling apart. My sister failed to get help and Lake following the same path. Oh God.
My mind is too loud. My thoughts are talking over each other. There are so many worries I can’t decide what to tackle. My body is on fire. My fingers are going numb —and everything stops.
I stiffen for a moment and wonder if I fainted. Or maybe I died. My feet are on the ground, though my knees are weak, but I’m standing. So maybe I died and I’ll whirl around and see my limp body crash behind me, but then the smell of teakwood hits my nostrils. My head is pressing against something firm. There’s the same firmness, squeezing my arms and pressing my back closer to the withered rock I’m against.
I turn my hand away from my chest and press it against the unknown surface. Lake. Lake’s arms are around me. He’s holding me. “It’s okay Angel. Breathe.”
“I think—” I stop and claw my hand at Lake’s chest, more so abdomen. Goodness, he’s tall.
“I’m having a panic attack.” I struggle to speak. It comes out air-y and hard to understand.
“This about me or—” He shakes his head to himself.
“I can’t Lake, I can’t.” I squash my other hand between our bodies, but Lake doesn’t budge. Instead, he holds me tighter.
“You can’t?”
I squeeze my eyes together and sink against him. My legs buckle, but Lake’s hand comes to my waist, and he pulls me back up. His hand shakes against my skin as he does, because he’s weak himself, but here he is, keeping me stable.
“Everything is too much.”
“Okay. Deep breaths,” he says, sucking in a bunch of air and expanding his chest. His chest declines and he repeats. “It’s okay, Serenity, deep breaths.”
There’s something about the way my name leaves his lips that makes me question why I’m panicking at all. I replay his voice as I attempt to mimic his breathing, and I tuck that voice in my brain. Serenity, Serenity, Serenity.
“There you go. You’re okay. I’m sorry.” His choppy way with words never sounded like it could be reassuring, but it is. It comforts me as much as his heavy arms gripping me. “Squeezing you. It’ll restart your nervous system, okay?”
That makes me smile. “How do you know that?” I snicker, slowly relaxing.
“Might as well be a nurse myself, Angel.” He rests his chin on the top of my head and keeps squeezing. I feel all the anxiety diminish in my chest.
“Okay.” I announce, “I think I’m okay.”
Lake stops compressing, but he’s still hugging me. He sucks in a breath and brushes a hand on my head. Then he takes a step back.
Lake Phoenix died two weeks ago. He’s forcefully being weaned off of drugs, and that’s not a simple process. Right now, he needs all the love, but he just stopped my first panic attack. He held me against him until I could breathe.
I feel better about marrying him.
“Lake?” My voice is quiet.
“Yes, Angel?”
In his eyes, there’s a look that portrays a readiness to listen. He’s ready, eager almost, to hold me again. Like he’d burn the hospital to the ground, and maybe even the world, if I asked.
“I am upset with what happened downstairs. Very upset.”
His lips twitch. “Got that.”
I bring my arms around myself. They’re not nearly as comforting as his, and I miss the deep scent of teakwood, but it’ll do.
I hesitate to talk, but this is Lake. I can tell him anything. I’ve watched him vomit and scream into pillows, I’ve watched him cry and yell, laugh and smile. He has his life because of me, and he’s saving mine.
“Something else happened earlier, though. With Caleb.”
He tightens his stare. “Caleb? You mean Flabby Fletch?”
I chuckle nervously. “Yes.”
He puts his hands on my arms and caresses up and down my skin. He’s towering over me, protecting me from something he’s not even aware of. “What did he do, Serenity?”
I bite on my lip, and I freeze for a second. The only part of me that isn’t frozen is the subtle heat quickening to a huge red flame on the skin of my cheeks.
“What did he do?” Lake repeats, more demand in his tone.
“He brought me to the break room and started scolding me for coming up here to see you,” I keep staring at the floor because it’s harder to confess than I thought.
My words get stuck in my throat. “Then, well, I don’t really know.”
Lake is brushing my arms again. He stays silent for a moment like he’s trying to guess, but he can’t. “It was enough to make you cry, Angel. What else?”
“I got super uncomfortable and something seemed wrong.” I crane back my neck. “It was weird that he dragged me all the way to the break room just to tell me to stop seeing you.”
My air hitches in my lungs. “He tried to kiss me.”
Lake’s expression turns to stone. More tears flood my vision as I reflect on the situation.
“I wanted to leave, but he kept me against the door. I grabbed the doorknob, but I felt his thumb press into my hand, like he was trying to lock the door. Before he could, I got it open.”
A spark ignites in Lake’s eyes, and I realize it’s the same flame I saw burning in Caleb’s.
Fury.