Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
EMMETT
The confined-space training we have to repeat every year has nothing on the claustrophobia this hospital gives me.
Being discharged doesn’t stop the walls from closing in on me as Becky pushes me through the halls. I’d bet my last dollar she’s going slow just to piss me off one last time.
Freedom, or a semblance of it, is just out of reach.
My application to rent the loft was approved, and Care Management set up a ride.
As much as I hate it, it’s making the whole process more manageable.
I’m almost out of here.
Almost.
I glance up and down the corridors, searching for the one thing that feels off.
Aspen isn’t here to see me off.
It’s silly.
We already said goodbye. She’s enjoying her well-deserved day off. Neither of those facts keep me from wanting one last glimpse of her before I leave, though.
I was calmer with her around, and I’m not ready to lose that, especially with the uncertainty of recovery looming.
Eight weeks of downtime is going to be hell.
No fighting fires.
No chopping wood.
No cooking over an open flame.
No fishing in the river by my camper.
“Becky . . .” I aim for charming and fail spectacularly. Everything about it sounds fake and desperate.
“Don’t Becky me.” The brakes lock and she comes to stand in front of me, her chunky black shoes tapping impatiently against the gray tile floor. “I know that tone. My grandkids use that tone when they want something.”
I open my mouth, intent on pleading my case, only to close it.
She’s got me dead to rights. I did want something, but I’ve got no business asking her for information about Aspen.
Not that it would make a difference. Becky doesn’t bend rules.
Familiar laughter cuts through the corridor, stealing my attention. It’s as bright and beautiful as it was yesterday, yet there’s unease woven through it.
I shift, looking around the charge nurse, my focus like a magnet for that sound. Becky moves, blocking my view, a satisfied smirk tilting her lips.
“Something caught your eye?”
“Move,” I grumble.
“I don’t know who taught you your manners . . .”
“Please,” I grit out.
She shuffles to the side, just enough for me to see Aspen, coming down the hallway.
Everything about the unfamiliar doctor walking with her sets my teeth on edge. He’s the reason for her pinched expression. She keeps a healthy distance between them, but the arrogant ass ignores her obvious discomfort and reaches out, brushing the small of her back.
It gives me the inexplicable desire to throat punch him.
Becky’s watching me with a raised eyebrow, daring me to do something stupid. But I can’t look away from Aspen and the doctor.
If pompous fuckwad had a spokesperson, it would be this guy, with his smug smile and flashy watch—every bit of him screaming privilege.
The way he watches Aspen lights my nerves on fire. It’s too close to the way a cat watches a mouse. Like she’s something to toy with.
I grip the wheels, ready to roll up to them and tell this guy exactly what I think, but the brakes catch, and I’m stuck with Becky in front of me, watching me like a hawk.
“Fucking brakes.” By the time I’ve got them disengaged, they’re here.
“Becky.” Doctor Dick-weed winks as he moves on.
My fist tightens around the rubber wheels. So, so punchable.
I brace for Aspen to follow, but she stops, crossing her arms under her chest and leaning in to mirror Becky’s fed-up stance. As if I’m the problem.
“Just had to piss her off one last time?” Aspen teases, but there’s an edge that lingers in her tone.
The thrill of seeing her is tangled with concern, but with Becky watching, there’s nothing I can do without putting Aspen in the spotlight.
“Guess so. I thought you were off.” It’s then that I notice she’s not in scrubs. Instead, she’s wearing a pair of wide-leg jeans and a cardigan, with necklaces stacked around her neck and rings littering her finger. It’s casual, but still polished.
Perfectly poised.
“Oh, yeah. I had to drop off a retirement gift for one of our radiologists.”
“On your day off?”
She rolls her tongue over the inside of her cheek, holding back her smile. Acting as professional as she looks.
“Yeah . . . keep up, Hotshot.”
Becky doesn’t waste a second.
“Would you like to do the honors?” She motions to my wheelchair. “Pretty sure this one prefers you over me any day.”
Aspen’s smile slips free and pink blooms over her cheekbones as she looks between us. “I don’t want to intrude on this special moment for you two.”
“Save me,” I mouth.
At the same time, Becky says, “You’d be doing me a favor.”
“Stop pretending you won’t miss each other. You’re two ornery peas in a cranky pod,” Aspen says, stepping behind my wheelchair.
I didn’t think I’d get a chance to see her again, and now that I’ve got her undivided attention, I freeze, caught between wanting and knowing I shouldn’t.
The closer we get to the exit, the harder it is to know what to say or do.
I’m not good at people or feelings. I hate goodbyes. My life has been spent keeping everyone at a distance, leaving me incapable of giving or receiving meaningful connection.
Moments like this threaten the wall I’ve built to keep myself and those around me safe.
But damn it, I want it anyway. Just a few more seconds. Just this moment.
“You must be thrilled to get out of here.” She laughs, nervous, as the doors slide open. “Promise me you’re not going to run back into a fire the second I park this wheelchair.”
“Tempting, but no. I’ll be suffering through my time off.”
“Maybe you’ll be surprised and end up liking the downtime. Find a new hobby. Ever tried doing cross-stitch?
I glare at her over my shoulder.
She crinkles her nose. “Yeah. I didn’t think so.”
A van with a medical transport logo pulls up.
“Care Management arranged a ride for you?” She sounds almost sad.
“They did.”
“Good.” She nods, but it feels like she’s trying to convince herself.
The driver rushes around, opening the rear door for me. I want to bark at him for moving so fast when I’m trying to steal a few extra seconds before I say goodbye.
Aspen stays behind the chair as I stand. When I’m steady, I lean against the van and turn to get a look at her.
This is where it ends for us.
I linger a beat too long, lost in my head as I try to memorize how this moment feels.
She forces her smile wider, like she knows how hard this is for me. “See you around, Hotshot.”
“See you around, Aspen.”
Words have never tasted so bitter.
She steps away as I ease into the back seat, pulling the door shut before I lose the battle with my willpower.