Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
ASPEN
I find myself back on the third floor, and just like they have since he was admitted, my feet carry me back to Emmett’s room, against my better judgement.
At first, I couldn’t put my finger on why I felt the need to check on him. Honestly, I still can’t quite nail it down, but I’ve given up on overthinking it.
He needs a friend whether he wants one or not. And I’m the one he’s getting.
At least for as long as he’s trapped here. Because that’s exactly how he sees his situation. These walls are a cage. Sitting still is a punishment.
If he’s not watching the news, he’s staring out the window, and he fidgets nonstop when he’s awake, folding and unfolding the corner of his sheet, tapping on the bed rail.
It’s exhausting to watch.
From what Becky’s told me, he’s hell-bent on getting released, despite not being ready. Between the nightmares, his eagerness to return to the fire line, and his growing agitation, I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid and risk his health.
There’s obviously a lot I don’t know—the man is a cavern of secrets.
But a little fresh air and something to take his mind off being stuck here can’t hurt. Thankfully, the air quality has improved enough that it’s safe for him to join me.
So this is me, trusting my gut and doing for him what I hope someone would do for my brothers if they were in his shoes.
“Hey, Becky,” I say, setting the brown paper bag I’m carrying at the nurse’s station. “Is now still a good time for a jail break.”
She lifts her readers off her face, resting them on a bed of graying curls. “You really want to give up your lunch to spend time with such a grouch?”
“You’ll be singing a different tune when I bring him back in a better mood.”
Her eyes narrow. “What’s so special about Mr. Slate that he gets special treatment? I know it’s not his sparkling personality.”
There’s a mutual respect between us so I don’t take offense to her keeping me honest. I’d do the same for her. Still, I find myself wiping my palms on the front of my scrubs.
“He’s not that bad.”
She laughs, loudly. “Then tell me why none of the other nurses want to deal with him, but you’re here, looking to spend more time with him.”
Grumpy? Absolutely. Misunderstood? For sure.
He’s the asshole he wants everyone to think he is, but I’m not convinced.
Before I’m able to figure out how to answer her honestly, she moves on. “Even knows he’s a pain in the ass. This morning, when I came to take vitals, he said, ‘You must really suck at picking straws if you drew the short one again today.’”
I frown. “You’re just as cranky.”
She snickers. On a bad day, Becky is scarier than Emmett could ever dream of being.
“Maybe, but someone has to keep him humble.”
“You don’t get that good at putting up walls without a reason.”
She glances at his closed door. “True enough. No one is born miserable. Circumstances make them that way.”
Life hasn’t been kind to Emmett, but I can be.
“He’s still cleared for supervised ambulation, right?”
“Yes, but don’t think I didn’t notice how you skirted my question.”
You and I both.
I blow out a breath. “He’s not different.” I pause, not knowing how to articulate what I’m feeling when it doesn’t make sense to me either.
I hang my head, looking at the paper bag with our lunches. When I lift it, Becky’s clicking her pen impatiently.
“We see plenty of people with shitty pasts. Emmett reminds me of Drake, and it’s hard to ignore. Helping him through this feels like helping myself somehow. I can’t really explain it, but I think he ended up here for a reason.”
It’s that simple. The universe is speaking to me and I’m listening.
Emmett shared a part of himself I suspect people don’t often see, so walking away now feels like turning my back on him. Under the attitude and stoic front, there’s a man that just needs someone—anyone—to try. And I get that more than most.
Then there’s the part I’m not ready to share.
I’m not special, but Emmett looks at me like I could be. Like he’d find me worthy without my title or making myself useful. It’s why I keep finding myself here, resting. He’s the first place I’ve ever felt safe just being.
“He’s not your brother, Aspen. Drake has demons of his own, but Emmett wears his pain like armor. Forget the fact that he’s not sticking around. Have you considered that he may not let you help?”
“I have to try.”
She shakes her head like I’m one of her kids and I’m about to do something stupid.
“Get him out of here. Cleo is coming down in an hour.”
“Shit.” Our social worker is incredible, but she could be a barrier to Emmett getting what he wants most—being discharged. If she doesn’t think he’s equipped to take care of himself during his recovery, things could get worse for him before they get better.
“Yeah, shit,” Becky echoes.
Grabbing a wheelchair and the bagged lunch from the cafeteria, I leave Becky to her paperwork and knock softly on Emmett’s door.
“Fucking Christ, again?” he grumbles. “Don’t know why you bother knocking, you never listen when I tell you to go away.”
“Hello to you, too,” I say, using my most cheerful nurse voice.
Remorse or something like it pulls his lips into a line as his eyes shift from the TV to me with recognition.
“Do you live here?”
“Certainly feels like it some days.”
His focus drops from me to the wheelchair and back. “Becky said I didn’t have anything until some care management lady comes down later.”
I move the wheelchair back and forth, unsure now that I’m face-to-face with Emmett’s scowl.
“This is not official business.”
Surprise lifts his brows. “What is it then?”
“An escape plan.”
If he wasn’t surprised before, he is now.
“Would you like to take a field trip with me?”
I swear to god there’s the hint of a dimple at the corner of his mouth. And it makes all of my nerves evaporate.
“Where to?” he asks.
“The courtyard.”
“Outside?” Carefully disguised excitement bleeds into his tone, like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.
“Let’s call it outside-adjacent, to be safe,” I hedge. “You’ll still be on hospital property, but there’s fresh air and a view.”
“That doesn’t sound terrible.”
He’s trying so hard to be cool about it but sits up too quickly to hide his true feelings. The rushed movements make him recoil in pain, and I rush to his side.
“Hold up, Hotshot. Let me just check a few things before Becky revokes your field trip privileges,” I urge gently before taking his forearm in my hand to flipping it over and check the line taped to his arm. “Nice and slow.”
The IV’s already been capped—no wires or monitors still hooked up.
Emmett gives a dry grunt. “She unhooked me this morning. Guess they finally trust me not to flatline.”
“It’s a whole new world now,” I tease, unlocking the wheelchair brake and moving it closer. “The air is clearer today, but if at any point you feel short of breath, I need you to tell me so we don’t do more harm than good with this adventure.”
“Cross my heart,” he says, but I’m certain he’d agree to anything to get outside.
“Ready?”
I let him do most of the work, only providing some stability as he rises. “There you go,” I say when he’s standing, and the look he shoots me is dangerous enough to kill.
“Just humor me.” I tighten my grip on his elbow, taking some of his weight as he lowers into the chair with a cringe.
“Get me the hell out of here,” he grumps with none of the venom from before.
Laughing, I set the brown bag on his lap, unlocking the wheels. “Your meal, sir.”
He glances over his shoulder, his mouth pulled to the side. “You brought me lunch.”
“Don’t get too excited; it’s from the cafeteria and part of your approved food plan.”
“So, same shit, different day.”
“But in a brown bag.” If sarcasm was healing, Emmett would be discharged here and now. The only indication that he appreciates my tone is a grunted exhale.
I turn him toward the nurses’ station as we leave his room.
“Give her a lick of trouble and I’ll be an even bigger pain in your ass for the rest of your stay,” Becky warns without looking up.
Emmett huffs out something that sounds a little like a chuckle.
“I’d tell you she’s all bark and no bite, but that’d be a lie,” I whisper conspiratorially.
“I heard that!” she yells after us.
“You were supposed to.” My retort comes easily. My half-baked plan to cheer him up is as much for me as it is for him.
Humming along with the piped-in music, I press the button to call the elevator.
“You seem like you’re enjoying babysitting me far too much.”
I doubt he intends it as a dig at me. From what I’ve gathered he’s more about the self deprecation than outright putting down others.
“Are people not normally happy to be in your company?
“Never,” he grumbled.
Once we’re inside, I lock the wheels and reach around him to hit the G. “You need better friends, Emmett Slate.”
“We both know I’m not Mr. Popularity,” he says as we start our descent.
“Wait, you weren’t prom king? I don’t believe it. With a face like that?”
“Was it the fact that you’re my only visitor that gave it away?” He’s so matter-of -fact that it nearly breaks my heart.
Afraid he’d mistake empathy for pity, I hide it behind a teasing tone when I lean over him from behind, asking, “Are you allergic to people? I have a brother like that.”
The elevator doors slide open to light spilling in from the courtyard windows.
“Something like that,” he says, glancing back at me as the wheels rattle over the gap in the elevator.
Bumping the button at my hip, I wait as the automatic door to the courtyard opens in front of us.
Fresh mountain air swirls around us and carries the sharp scent of pine. For a minute, neither of us says anything. I’m too lost in the way Emmett tips his face to the sky, soaking it all in.
When the silence stretches, I find myself needing to ask the question that’s been eating at me. “Does this aversion to people have anything to do with your nightmares?”
“A flight nurse, a night nurse, and a psych nurse. Do you ever rest?”
“No, not really,” I admit. “I’ve been accused of being a bit of a workaholic.”
Maybe my own admission will earn me one from him.
“Seems we have that in common.”
Not as telling as I’d hoped for, but I’m not a quitter.
“I imagine the unpredictability that comes with being a hotshot can make it difficult to maintain relationships during the season.”
Although, I suspect keeping people at a distance is what Emmett does year round.
“Nah, this is who I am. It’s not the job,” he says darkly.
Talk about a loaded statement.
I can’t fathom anyone wanting to be as isolated as he seems to be. Drake’s circle is a pinpoint, but he has support—friends and family who would show up if my brother were in the hospital. They’d be there whether or not he wanted them to, and he’d have to fight them to leave.
“Is that supposed to scare me off?”
“There’s a reason I don’t have any visitors, Aspen.”
His voice runs cold, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I don’t have friends. My family is gone—they can’t be replaced. And even if they could, I’m better off alone.”
That stops me in my tracks.
Heat singes my cheeks, and I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment, anger, or a mix of the two.
Anger on his behalf, at him, and maybe even at myself.
For caring more than I should again.
He’s hurting. And as hard as he tries to hide it, I see it in his eyes.
God, it’s frustrating—he’s frustrating.
In the end, it’s the anger that pushes me forward. Like Emmett, Drake believes he’s better off alone. I might not have any real ties to Emmet, but the way he writes himself off enrages me just the same.
I don’t cower and I won’t be embarrassed for caring. Not when he clearly needs someone on his side.
I turn the wheelchair and park Emmett at the end of a picnic table, taking the bag from him. Then I sit and shove his sandwich toward him.
“No one is better off alone.”
“I’m the reason they’re not here. So, yeah, I am.” He says it so quietly I almost miss it.
Rory and his grandpa.
Somehow, I know that whatever happened to them is the root of why he thinks he deserves to be alone.
“I have an older brother who’s almost as good at pushing people away as you are. You know what it’s taught me?”
“To be bossy as hell?”
“Probably, but that’s not all.”
I take another bite and chew, mustering up the courage to keep trying.
“People who push the hardest need kindness and love the most.”
I let that sink in for a second—sure he’s about to tell me to take him back to his room. When he doesn’t fight back, I seize the opportunity to say the other things on my mind.
“You’re not a monster, Emmett Slate. The only person you’re a threat to is yourself. Push me away all you want, but I won’t go as easily as the rest.”
“What if I tell you I want you to leave me alone?”
“You’d be lying to both of us,” I say, balling up the baggie from my sandwich. “Are you a liar, Emmett?”