Chapter 27 Justin
Justin
The studio meeting is taking way longer than expected, and my fingers tap on my knee.
I’ve been staring at Doc all damn evening, checking to see if her cheek color had changed, watching the way she swallowed back yawns, the way she’d briefly let her shoulders relax, then sat right back up, straight, the way she forced her eyes to stay more than half-mast. I had the assistant bring in food twice, even though I could barely eat, and watched the clock tick for five damn hours.
The moment it’s over, I leap from the chair so fast it nearly knocks into the wall, nod at Doc, then incline my head toward the door. She opens it, scans the hallway, then motions me forward.
‘God, I’m so ready to go home,’ I say, glancing at her from my peripheries. ‘You doing okay?’
Dammit. Why did I ask her that? Her shoulders straighten. ‘Didn’t you want to go to the grocery store tonight?’
No, I don’t want to go to the fucking grocery store.
Play it cool. ‘Ah, let’s see.’ I check my watch as if I’m contemplating going, knowing damn well there’s no chance I’m making her do anything but rest. ‘It’s after eight …
I’m feeling that salad we had last week at the deli, but honestly, I’m tired from the meeting today.
Let’s head back to my place, and we can hit up the store tomorrow. ’
She only nods. Thank God. We round the corner toward the elevator, as a tall, thin blond man with a backpack slung over his shoulder heads toward us and his face lights up. Shit. I can’t do fans today. I need to get Doc home.
‘Hey, you. Looks like we meet again,’ the man says to Doc – not me – and slows his step. ‘Are you sure you’re not auditioning? Trying out for that new DiCaprio movie?’
My back stiffens. Doc knows this guy?
‘Tim, right? IT guy?’ she says, with a polite, yet tired, smile. ‘Glad to see you made it back in the building. Nice to see you—’
‘Ah, Justin Greenwood,’ he says, and holds out his hand, shaking mine. ‘You must be here meeting with the producer for your new flick, huh? I had to help his assistant today troubleshoot some backend configuration issues on the scripting software she installed.’
I release my grip, but he swoops in with his other hand and gives me the dreaded double-handed handshake.
‘I’m Tim from IT,’ he says.
Finally, he drops the most awkward, long handshake of my life and I nod. ‘Nice to meet you.’
His face drops. ‘We actually met about six, seven months back.’ A smile resumes. ‘I’m sure you meet a ton of people though, so no worries. I met with the PA of a director earlier—’
‘Apologies, Tim. I’ve had a brutal day and need to get home.’ Cutting him off is a dick move, but I don’t care. A guy like that will want to talk for an hour, and my critical mission is getting Doc back to my house. I step forward, knowing she’ll immediately follow. ‘Nice to … see you … again.’
‘Oh, of course. Great to run into you,’ Tim’s voice sounds behind me. ‘Let me know if you ever need any computer help.’
I nod, but don’t respond and keep marching to the elevator.
In the SUV, we drive in near silence, as I don’t want Doc to exert any additional energy by pretending she’s fine.
We don’t get home until a little after nine.
Doc slugs in the house with barely a word to perform her sweep.
I open my mouth to beg her to let me do the sweep myself but close it. She’d be livid if I asked.
When she steps back into the entry way, I scan her face. Again. ‘Hungry?’ I ask for no less than the fifth time today. I need to chill about the food thing before she takes my head off, but I can’t help it.
She does a terrible job of pretending she isn’t yawning. ‘Nah, I’m good.’
‘You up for a movie?’ I point the remote at the TV. ‘I say let’s go old school. Either Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or The Breakfast Club.’
‘Solid choices,’ she says with a soft smile. ‘The Breakfast Club.’
Whew. Jack isn’t due for another three hours.
Until then, she can rest, we can resume our movie night routine, and by tomorrow, everything will be back to normal.
‘You know Molly Ringwald was my first crush,’ I say as I flip through the streaming service.
‘Once I watched Sixteen Candles, I went back and watched every single one of her movies.’
‘Interesting. She was my first crush, too. Well, her and Keanu Reeves, ’cause of course.’ She scoots to the corner of the couch. ‘With Molly Ringwald though, it was an odd combination of wanting to be like her and wanting to make out with her.’
I chuckle as she rubs her knuckle in the corner of her eye.
What I would give for her to go up to the guest bedroom and rest. Food.
Food needs to be in every room, on hand and within reach from here on out.
‘Be right back.’ I leave the room and return with a few water bottles, crackers and a fruit basket. A fruit basket. Subtle, I know.
If she notices the snack, she doesn’t say anything. She stifles a yawn, props an elbow on the couch and rests her head into her palm.
***
‘I love this part—’ I snap my mouth shut.
Doc’s cheeks are rosy and glowing, her skin like powdered silk, the lashes from her closed eyes fan above her cheekbones.
God, she’s beautiful. There’s something almost angelic about her parted mouth as she breathes in slow and heavy.
This typically fierce, strong woman seems so vulnerable with every gentle rise and fall of her chest. I shift my gaze back to the TV and stay silent.
The movie finishes and she hasn’t moved. ‘Doc?’ I touch her arm, and her head moves further into the cushions.
Even though it’s concealed, I know she still has her gun, and hell if I’m going to try and disarm her.
But, also … she probably shouldn’t sleep with it, right?
I tap my fingers on the back of my neck.
Hmmm. Jack will be here in an hour and will know what to do. I flip to a docuseries and press play.
The time passes quickly, and a vehicle pulls up on the driveway. I slink off the couch and tiptoe to the door. ‘Hey, Jack,’ I whisper and nod my head to the couch. ‘Doc just fell asleep and she’s out pretty cold.’
Jack narrows his eyes and looks around my shoulder. ‘Interesting.’
The tone is unreadable. Not unkind or unconcerned, but definitely not cheery. ‘She wasn’t feeling well,’ I say, maybe too quickly. ‘She’s a stubborn one, huh?’
He pulls his lips between his teeth. ‘Very true.’
Is he pissed? He and I are not close by any stretch. But this is the most aloof he’s been so far, which says a lot. ‘We can let her sleep here tonight. She has her gun on her, and I didn’t want to grab it.’
He pushes an exhale through his nose. ‘Thanks for letting me know. I’ll get it.’
He thuds over to the couch, and I nearly pop a muscle in my jaw. For Christ’s sake, quiet your steps.
‘Hey, Doc, it’s Jack.’ He lays a palm on her shoulder. ‘I know you’re not feeling well. I’m going to remove your firearm and mag and put it on the side table, okay?’
A surprising tinge of care laces Jack’s tone.
‘Okay …’ Doc mumbles.
Jack reaches into her inner waistband, removes the gun and magazine, and checks the standard two times to confirm the chamber’s empty before laying it on the table.
‘I’ve got it from here,’ I say.
He studies my face, and I lean on every actor technique I’ve ever used to stay casual. The last thing I need is him seeing my guttural need to take care of Doc.
‘I’ll do a sweep,’ he finally says and steps from the room.
Doc looks so damn uncomfortable. With her legs on the ottoman and head on the side of the couch, she’ll wake up with a hefty crick in her neck if she doesn’t adjust. ‘Hey, Doc,’ I whisper, ‘I’m going to move your legs.’
She mumbles. I scoop in, guide her to lay down and prop the pillow beneath her head.
She moves into a fetal position and my breath hitches.
Don’t stare. For fuck’s sake, do not stare.
But her usual powerful, tough body looks so beautifully fragile at this moment, and if it wasn’t creepy as hell, I’d absolutely take a picture.
I unlace and tug off her shoes, tuck a blanket up to her chin, and help myself to one last look. I’m giving myself a pass because what I really want to do is kiss her head, but yeah, I know … not cool. I shut off the lamp, head to my room and flop on the bed.
The pillows are useless. I smack, adjust, fold and smack again.
What if I couldn’t help her? I should get landlines.
That’s what I need. And install panic buttons in every room.
Doc mentioned that multiple times, but I thought she was being ridiculous.
Until now. Can you call 911 from Alexa? My smartwatch probably has one, but I don’t even know how to activate it.
How did this happen? She mentioned it hasn’t happened in years. Why today? Should I have more than one type of juice on hand? I don’t even normally have juice but happened to have some left over from brunch on Friday. What would’ve happened if I didn’t have any?
I flip to my side, then flip again, then to my back and finally sit up.
Shit. I press my thumbs into my forehead and allow the familiar worry circle to rush over me like a tidal wave.
It’s a tactic I’ve used my entire life. If I visualize all ‘what if’ scenarios, I’ll be prepared.
I can prevent anything. I just needed to think of every single potential situation.
‘Screw it.’ I throw off the covers and step into the shower.
The hot water pelts my back and I push my forehead against the wall.
What if she didn’t take the juice? Tomorrow, I’m calling my doctor and asking her everything about Type 1 diabetes.
Then, I’ll ask Doc what supplies I need around the house.
Sugar packets? Juice boxes? I’ll put some in each room.
Do smartwatches have an app with a blood sugar drop alarm? I’ll buy her whatever she needs.
For nearly an hour, I stay under the water, making a mental punch list. When my brain is satisfied it has played out every situation possible, I lie back in bed.
Tomorrow, everything will be good.