Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Jeff
“Oh, I’m so sorry Dr. Harrison,” Danny says, wincing. “I know you want to get out of here, but there’s a patient in recovery that might need you.”
“Whose patient is it?” I ask, less annoyed than surprised that one of my colleagues would not be around to help after they operated.
Danny shrugs and lifts up his palms to let me know he’s just the messenger.
“Alright. I’ll be right there.”
I go to thank Danny for letting me know, but he’s already slipped back out into the hall, headed toward the nurses’ bay. I hang the parka back on the hook and shrug the white coat back on. Syd will kill me if I’m late to pick her up. Or worse, she’ll ask me if she can drive my car.
I slip my phone out of my pocket and check the time.
I’ve got forty-five minutes to get out to O’Hare—an impossible task if it weren’t rush hour in Chicago.
I blow out a frustrated breath and press on Devon’s video for the thousandth time today.
Her clear voice bounces off the tile floor of the hospital hallway.
I’ve memorized every word of this speech—every movement of her hands and tilt of her head.
She’s a warrior. An angel of vengeance. And apparently, I’m only one of three million viewers who finds her fascinating.
I feel every ounce of respect and love that’s visible in the students’ eyes as they look to Devon from where they stand.
Was I ever that brave? To stand for something like these kids did that night?
No, I wasn’t. But I didn’t have Devon Gallagher to lead me.
And Syd. Well, I’m not surprised by her anymore.
She could hand me the moon and I would think, “makes sense.”
It’s been two weeks since this video surfaced and went viral. And still no contact.
I was stupid to believe this changed anything—that maybe Devon’s decision meant we stood a chance.
I texted her against all instincts for self-preservation and—crickets.
The silence has just added a second layer of heartbreak.
Even Sydney has stopped pushing me to make some grand gesture.
If Syd gives up, you know it’s hopeless.
The heels of my boots click through my self-pity as I approach recovery.
It is eerily empty. No sign of the nurses who work tirelessly to keep our patients alive and well.
Maybe Danny had it wrong. But then I hear murmuring behind a closed curtain.
I take in a strengthening breath and make my way toward the blue plastic, stopping when I hear Syd’s familiar voice.
“Just put your hair down. Try to look a little sexy—”
There’s the sound of someone slapping skin, then a familiar giggle.
My fingers close around the edge and I pull back the curtain, listening hard over the messy clattering sound the metal rings make against the rod.
I freeze, curtain still in hand.
Syd is reaching around Devon’s head, trying to get at her hair band and Devon is smacking her hands away, much like she had when I tried to inspect her Achilles.
“Hi,” she says from beneath Syd’s armpit.
That smile. I forget to breathe.
Syd spins, smiles at me, and says, “I’ll be waiting in the men’s locker room,” then brushes past and leaves me to take in what I’ve been missing.
She’s sitting on the table with her legs up and her shoes off so that I can see the bottom of her socks where there’s a little picture of an open can labeled whoop ass.
My tongue is so thick, I’m going to choke on it. Her cheeks redden a little and she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. Talk, Jeff. Move. But I can’t even think past the moron screaming in my brain. She’s here. She’s here.
No shit.
She looks down at her lap. The smile that blinded me when I opened the curtain has crumbled at the edges as she rambles. “I came with Syd. For moral support—not that she needs it—and I’m in town to meet Dr. Basantis about a job offer—but I’m sure you know all about that.”
I nod.
“Jeff—” she starts then stops. She slides her ass to the edge of the table and reaches her toes toward the tile that’s still a stretch away.
“Don’t stand up,” I tell her.
She narrows her eyes.
“Just give me a second to think. And to figure out this isn’t my reoccurring dream,” I say.
Her smile unfolds, slow but certain.
She scoots back onto the table and bends her legs beneath her.
Her voice is a whisper. “What you did for Syd. No. What you did for my mother. For me.”
I take a step closer. Reach out to touch her foot, then pull back.
“It’s no different than what you’ve done for every student in your classroom.”
She shrugs and says, “It was nothing.”
“We both know it’s not nothing.”
“Fine, it’s something.” She looks up at the hospital lights and chuckles. “You know your mom sent me a care-package.”
“I’d heard—made Jenny go pick up whatever the hell it was—”
“It was a vibrator,” she laughs.
Oh, mother. What the hell am I going to do with that woman?
“With a note—a poem really—while you’re away without my son, bought you this for a bit of fun.”
I nod. “Clever.”
“Very,” Devon agrees.
“So, why are you here?” I ask.
I catch her eyeing my white jacket and dip my head lower to interrupt her gaze.
“In the hospital?” she murmurs.
I nod.
“I think you messed something up when you—”
“Operated? Because we’ve been over this.”
She shakes her head and pushes her lips together.
“I think you messed something up when you let me leave Chicago,” she finishes.
The moron in my brain stops screaming. And the chorus starts to sing.
“Could you repeat that?”
“Sure. You messed up,” she says, then lifts a brow.
Like I give two shits who we blame this on. As long as she’s here—with me.
“So, this time, I’m to keep you here with me? No matter what you say?”
I sit on the edge of the table, wrap my fingers around her good ankle.
“Exactly. I brought that DVD in case you need pointers. I give you permission to shackle and chain if necessary.” She waggles her brows and I chuckle as she leans forward so that her eyes are even with mine, lips a breath away. “But I promise it won’t be necessary. I want to be where you are.”
I bite down on a smile.
“And the Basantis job has nothing to do with this? Heading up a non-profit that educates educators about mental health? What is it again—outreach advocate?”
“Fringe benny,” she whispers into my mouth. “And it’s awareness ambassador.”
I yank her ankle so it’s in my lap and catch her head with my hand in her hair.
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
I pull her closer. Press my head to hers.
“I’d be nervous if you weren’t,” I tell her. “Were you scared when you took on a school board?”
She nods and her lips brush against mine.
“It was worth it,” she says. “Just like this.”
She kisses me with so much force I nearly fall backward off the recovery bed.
Every cell in my body exhales in relief when those lips touch mine.
I wrap my arms around her, pull her close, take everything she has to offer as she tells me between kisses that she loves me.
I swallow those words, let them fill me until my body wants more and I’m dizzy.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say in her ear, our heavy breathing slicing through the still air of the recovery bay.
She pushes back, but I keep my promise this time and don’t let her go. She stares right into me and smiles wide, dazzling me like she did the first night we met.
“Alright, Dr. Hotass. Let’s go home.”
And this time around, we walk out of recovery together.