Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
ASPEN
Watching Emmett pull away from the hospital is surreal. I knew it was coming. Hell, we said goodbye yesterday when I got called away.
Usually, I’m ecstatic for patients to be released.
And don’t get me wrong; I am happy for him.
Being here was crushing his soul, and those moments we were outside yesterday he was a new man.
But selfishly, it feels like a loss for me. And that’s never happened before.
There’s so much I don’t know about him. So much I could learn from him. And now I’ll never get the chance.
Emmett is a take-it or leave-it kind of guy. He doesn’t care whether people like him.
On the other hand, the idea of someone not liking me makes my stomach flip.
There’s something freeing about the way he just . . . is. Like my brothers, in a sense. A little more blunt about it, but sure of himself all the same.
I want that for myself . . . so, so badly.
I can already feel the sense of steadiness his presence brought with him slipping through my fingertips. Like witnessing it gave me permission to do the same.
My cheeks heat at how naive that seems now. I blame it on being an empath who cares too much.
Our lunch was filled with my fears and doubts—things I’ve never even shared with my closest friends.
Now, we’re out of time. And I’m stuck with the notion that it wasn’t just me who needed this. It was him too.
I’m tired. Tired of being the family fixer. Tired of being the one everyone depends on to pick up extra shifts. Arms that carry things I shouldn’t have to just to avoid burdening someone else.
I need a break.
Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the van disappearing around the corner and head toward my car. My toes drag over the cracked asphalt, and somehow I’m emptier and heavier than a moment ago.
With each step, I remind myself to be grateful he accepted help from Care Management—that he’s going home to recover.
Wherever home is, I hope he’s not as alone there as he was here. I need to believe that him leaving is for the best.
Eager to put distance between myself and the hospital, I dig in the pocket of my shorts for my keys.
My hand comes up empty.
“Of course.”
I look back at the hospital. I don’t want to go back inside for so many reasons.
They’ve got to be in the conference room.
I’d been about to leave the retirement party when Jeremiah walked in and started a conversation I didn’t want to have. My convenient excuse to stop by the hospital and maybe catch Emmett one last time before his discharge suddenly felt like a trap.
I hadn’t planned on fending off Jeremiah today.
Not in a million years did I think he’d make time to stop in and say goodbye.
Now that I think about it, I didn’t see him as much as acknowledge Susan during her party.
The surgeon and I slept together on and off for a few months. Nothing serious, just two busy people blowing off steam. Everything about it was based on convenience.
Until it wasn’t.
Then the random good morning texts started. At first, it was harmless. Sure, he was pushing the boundaries of our “casual” agreement, but it wasn’t a huge deal. Then he started interrupting my workday to persistently ask when he could see me again.
Things that should’ve made my stomach flutter only made it turn. He was turning what had been a private arrangement into something I had to actively avoid.
In the conference room, he came straight at me, ignoring every rule we’d set about keeping things professional and the fact that I’d called things off weeks ago.
I had to make an excuse to leave just to get out of the conversation.
He didn’t just miss the hint, he blatantly ignored it, insisting on walking me out, claiming he wanted my opinion on a patient.
He didn’t.
The whole walk he kept trying to make plans, joking he’d wear me down eventually.
I’d laughed in his face, dumbfounded.
Probably a mistake, but it was either that or make a scene.
When I spotted Emmett I made an escape and told Jeremiah—again—that I wasn’t interested.
I’m going to have to deal with Jeremiah soon, though.