Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JORDAN
“Jesus, that was a long one.” Lucas blows out a tired breath as he pulls off his scrub cap and pushes through the wide double doors leading back from the operating rooms to the surgical floor.
I mumble something that vaguely resembles agreement and follow him to the locker room. We just finished a ten-hour surgery on a car accident victim where we almost lost the patient three times and came awfully close to having to remove a vital organ to keep him alive. It’s the kind of surgery that used to get my blood pumping and leave me filled with energy. Instead, I find myself vaguely dissatisfied, wishing that the patient hadn’t been a full-grown adult. I’ve been wishing that a lot lately.
Walking into the locker room, I head straight for my locker and pull it open, grabbing my phone from the shelf and clicking it on. I can feel my smile spread as I see a string of texts from Jo.
Jo
You. Me. Breakfast. Eight a.m.
Not the diner though. I made us other plans. I know you’re probably tired after working all night, so our plans are of the lazy, sitting and eating variety, but I think we need a change of scenery.
I also know you won’t get these until you’re out of whatever surgery you’ve got going on, so just meet me out front when you’re done. I’ll be waiting.
I glance at the time and see that it’s already almost eight, and I get a quick jolt of panic at the thought of Jo waiting out front for me.
Me
Just got out of surgery. Are you here?
Jo
Yep, just got here. Don’t rush.
Me
Are you waiting inside?
Jo
Definitely not. It’s a gorgeous day. Why would anyone want to be inside?
“Fuck,” I mutter, my stomach clenching, one of my hands gripping the door of my locker so tight my knuckles turn white.
“Everything okay, Jordan?” I turn, and Lucas is looking at me with concern.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I tell him, even though I am the farthest thing from good right now. He studies me for a few seconds and shrugs, turning back to his locker. I look back down at my phone.
Me
Can you come inside and wait for me in the lobby?
Jo
The people-watching is better outside.
Me
Please, Hurricane. Just come inside for me. I need you to. I’ll explain later.
The absolute last thing I want to do is explain this, but I also won’t be able to relax until I know she’s inside.
Jo
Okay, okay, if it’s that important to you, I’ll go inside.
Me
Tell me when you’re there.
jo
[picture of hospital lobby]
Me
Thank you. I’ll be down in a few.
Ten minutes later, I say goodbye to Lucas and take the elevator down to the lobby where, to my relief, Jo is leaning up against a pillar by the front entrance. I stride across the lobby, and when I reach her, she bounces on her toes and reaches up to hug me. With her arms around my neck and her cupcake scent filling my senses, the fist of anxiety wrapped around my spine finally loosens.
“Hi!” She beams when she lets me go.
“Hi, yourself. Thanks for waiting inside.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely explaining that later. Here.” She bends down and rummages through the bag at her feet, pulling out a thermos and two coffee mugs. She straightens and gives both mugs to me, using her free hand to open the thermos.
“What’s this?”
“Coffee mugs.”
“I know, but what am I doing with them?”
She gestures for me to hold the mugs straight and she pours coffee into them, capping the thermos and tossing it back into her bag. She lifts the bag up and swings it over her shoulder, grabbing one of the mugs from me. “We’re caffeinating on the way to breakfast. I have a theory. Are you cool walking like fifteen or so blocks? I thought we could grab bagels at our bagel store and head to the park.”
“Sounds good.” I like the way she says our bagel store , like we’ve been friends for long enough that we have regular places we go. It feels nice. Comfortable in a way I can’t quite explain but that settles a part of me that has been unsettled for a long time. “And please explain to me why I’m carrying an open coffee mug through the Upper West Side again.” I gesture towards the door, and we push through it and out into the humid June morning.
“Okay,” she says as we head uptown on West End. “The thing is that the coffee we had the other morning after movie night when you walked me home was the best coffee I’ve ever had, and I think it had something to do with the mugs.”
“It didn’t.”
She gives me a disappointed look. “Have an open mind, dude. I already made the coffee just how you like it. I told you us taking our coffee the same way would come in handy.”
Jo takes a sip of her coffee as we cross Sixty-First Street, and her face lights up. “It does have to do with the mug. I can’t explain it—just try.” She gestures towards my untouched mug, and I take a sip. Fuck, that really is good.
“You taste it too!” she exclaims. In her enthusiasm, her bag slides down her arm and I take it from her, swinging it onto my shoulder. “Thanks. Okay, so I thought maybe it was just that you make the best coffee in the world, but it turns out, all coffee is amazing when consumed on the move in an actual coffee mug.”
“Hey now, I make excellent coffee.”
She bumps her shoulder with mine as we walk and then takes another sip of her coffee. “No doubt, J, but the free mugging makes it even better. This is who we are now. The Js are officially free muggers. No more to go coffee cups for us.”
“Okay, but does it apply to cars too, or is it strictly an outside thing? Because I can totally get behind walking around with the mug, but taking an open mug in a car seems risky.”
Jo gives me an approving look, like she’s glad I’m entertaining this little bit of lunacy. “I’m not sure. We can test it out in a few days when we take our road trip.”
I give her a side-eye. “I’m not entirely sure how I feel about open mugs in my car.”
“We’ll be careful, but we need to do this. For science, J. Science is counting on us.”
I snort out a laugh, and Jo beams at me as we make the right turn onto Seventy-Second Street. “I like when you laugh, Jordan. Happy looks good on you.”
I drain the rest of my coffee, thinking that I don’t know whether it’s my full name or the way Jo is looking at me, but as we stroll across town, my chest warms, and a lightness I haven’t known in years fills me, like all I need is Jo and this morning and this little piece of Manhattan that we’re making our own.
The deafening crash from the street yanks me out of my contentment.
The lightness disappears, and a surge of panic shoots through me as I wrap both my arms around Jo and spin so my back is to the street, my body shielding hers from danger. Her mug tumbles from her hand, and I flinch at the sound of ceramic shattering on concrete.
“Hey,” Jo whispers, wrapping her arms around my waist and running her hand up and down my back as my heart slams against my ribs. “It’s okay, J. It was the truck across the street. They let the loading platform down too fast.”
She tips her head back to look at my face, but I close my eyes, trying to get my shaking body and churning stomach under control. I lean forward to press my forehead to hers, taking a ragged breath, breathing her in. Cupcakes and coffee and a hint of cinnamon.
Jo .
She’s here.
She’s okay.
She’s safe.
Jo cups my face in both of her hands and strokes her thumbs along my cheekbones in a soothing rhythm. When I finally open my eyes, I expect to see questions and concern. Instead, I see patience and understanding, and my heartbeat starts to slow.
“Sorry,” I mumble, taking one more deep breath and letting it out slowly, my eyes dropping closed again.
“Jordan.” Jo’s voice is steady and firm, and when I open my eyes again, I see both softness and a steely determination in hers. “Don’t apologize. You don’t ever have to apologize to me. Not for this.”
I don’t understand how she can know what this is, but somehow, I know she does, and my stress level lowers. I take a step back, glancing down at the sidewalk. “Can I apologize for the broken coffee mug?” I mean it as a joke, but my voice is weakened by the low hum of residual anxiety.
Jo shrugs. “No big deal. Anyway, it’s the one I stole from you the other day.” She studies me closely. “Do you want to talk about it?”
My knee jerk instinct is to say no and lock the last few minutes into the box labeled Trauma, where I keep most of the last two years of my life. But there’s something else telling me to take this out and examine it. To explain it to Jo, knowing she is a safe place to put my secrets. I nod.
Jo holds out her hand to me. “Let’s get bagels and take them to the park. I know a place we can go.”
I know she’s saying it to give me some more time to calm down and collect my thoughts, and I’m really fucking grateful for it. So grateful that I slide my hand into hers, lacing our fingers together, and I don’t let go all the way to the park.