Chapter 25
Ella
Jesse’s been hiding his phone from me. He usually leaves it lying around and ends up forgetting where he left it, but lately I’ve noticed how quick he is to put it back in his pocket.
I know he isn’t cheating on me or anything. He would never. But I’m trying to figure out what he’s hiding.
I came over for the evening to have dinner and spend some time together because, starting tonight, I will be working night shift at the hospital until Friday. I won’t see him at all as I’ll be too busy catching up on sleep.
“Care if I shower quick? I got a little dirty today, if you couldn’t tell.” He gestures to his filthy jeans. He was at Mason’s all day helping him spackle or sand or something, I’m not really sure what exactly.
“I saw. And smelled,” I tease.
“What? I put deodorant on before you came.” He lifts his arm, sniffing himself to prove a point.
The motion pulls his shirt up just enough to reveal a glimpse of his abs.
He’s always been fit, but now, with ten years on him, his muscles have only filled out.
His shoulders are broader, his arms are visibly stronger.
He’s aged like fine wine; it’s dangerous how good he looks.
“Sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?”
I shrug. “Well, that’s kinda mean—hi, honey, you smell, love you?”
He lets out a laugh and empties his pockets. Walking away, he shuts his bedroom door. When I see he left his phone on the table with his wallet, gun, and keys, my heart beats faster. Do I look at it? Figure out what he’s hiding? Would he be mad if I did? Would I be mad if he did that to me?
Walking over stealthily, I listen for the water running first. Picking up the phone, I take a deep breath. My hands trembling slightly, I see what his last app was, the weather. Wow. Okay next, alarm clock. Thrilling. Oh okay, phone calls. Now we’re getting somewhere.
His call log is filled with mostly my name, his dad, there’s a few of Cody, and then I see an odd one.
“LH”—he talked with them three times the last few days, and yesterday, it shows there was a forty-five-minute phone call in the middle of the day.
I switch apps, opening his text messages.
There’s nothing substantial to even guess who this person is.
The conversation solely consists of figuring out good times to call.
Hearing the water shut off beyond the walls, I quickly grab a pen and sticky note from the drawer and write down the number, knowing I don’t have more than a minute.
Turning the phone off, I set it down just how he had it.
Scurrying over to the couch, I kick my feet up on his coffee table, steadying myself even though my heart is pounding.
“Alright. I feel better. What do you want to watch?” He comes over and joins me on the couch.
“Whatever.” I shrug and watch him pick up his phone from the table before heading toward me. My mind is racing, trying to figure out who he’s talking to and why he’s hiding it from me.
* * *
Seeing Mason’s truck parked at his cabin on my way down the driveway, I pull in beside it. I don’t wanna be late for work, but this should only take a few minutes.
He opens up a few seconds after I knock with a confused expression across his face. In dust-covered clothes, he appears to have been sanding. I only know that because Jesse told me that’s what he’d been helping him do all day.
“Hey,” Mason greets.
“Can you do something for me?”
“Course.”
“Promise me you won’t tell Jesse.”
He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Ella …”
“Please? Just for now. I’ll tell him eventually.”
“I heard you weren’t very good at that kind of thing.” He crosses his arms.
“Huh, I’ll have you know I am working on it.” I scoff and point a finger.
“He’s my brother. I don’t like the idea of going behind his back.”
“I know. And I said I’ll tell him, but first I just need you to figure something out for me.”
“What is it?”
I pull the paper from my pocket. “I need you to look up this phone number in your magic police computer.”
He looks at the number. “Where’s it from?”
I sigh. “He’s called it a few times. One was really long, like forty-five minutes, just yesterday. There are also some texts, but nothing I can pull from.”
“Well, what’s the name on it?”
“No name, just ‘LH.’”
“LH, hmm.”
“What was Lexie’s last name?” I ask with a swallow.
Mason’s eyes meet mine. “He wouldn’t.” He shakes his head.
“I know he wouldn’t, but—”
He hands the paper back my way. “I don’t want to get in the middle of this.”
“Mason, just please—”
“Ella. Let me try and help you so you guys don’t have some blow up fight over this,” he starts and shifts his feet. “Go ask him about it in person. Don’t be so scared. He’s the most patient guy I know. He’s not gonna get mad and he’s certainly not gonna lie.” His words are genuine. He’s right.
“Okay …” I take the paper back.
“I’m sorry. But I love you both and don’t want to get in the middle.”
I nod. “No, I get it. Sorry for putting you in a tough spot.”
“It’s all good,” he says as I turn to leave. “Have a good shift,” he adds, and I give him a soft smile.
* * *
The ER is steady but not overwhelming, for now. It’s been a few hours since I clocked in. As we near 2 a.m., my mind is still stuck on earlier. Jesse and that phone number.
I shake the thought away as I round into room five. My patient is a woman in her fifties with a nasty cut on her forehead. She’s sitting, arms crossed, in the bed. Her chart reads, “vehicle accident, possible concussion.” She’s been alert and irritable this entire time.
“Miss Stevens,” I greet with a smile. “How’s the headache?”
“Throbbing. I’m gonna need something stronger than that infant dose of Tylenol you gave me,” she grumbles.
I look through her chart. “I’ll have the doctor order something stronger.” Tapping around the keyboard quickly before I reach for my penlight, I then round around to her bedside. “Mind if I check your pupils again?”
She sighs with annoyance but doesn’t argue. Bringing the light up, I check both. They’re reactive and the same size. Good.
“You feel nauseous? Dizzy?” I asked.
“Only when I think about how much money this is gonna cost me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. The good news is your scans look clear.”
“Well, I guess that’s something,” she mutters.
“I’ll be back in with those meds,” I tell her and step back out into the hall.
As I make my way to the medicine station, my pager goes off, notifying me there’s a trauma coming in. Male, mid-sixties, cardiac arrest, and they’re five minutes out.
My heart rate picks up and I hurry to get the medicine for Miss Stevens so I can be of help to the incoming patient. Cardiac arrests are chaotic, unpredictable. Some patients make it. Some don’t.
I move quickly toward the trauma room where they’re already getting set up and prepped.
“They’re two minutes out,” Sarah, a fellow nurse, informs me as I pull on gloves.
My mind is focused on what’s to come. Everything in my personal life gets put on the back burner because it can’t matter. I can’t be distracted thinking about Jesse and this mysterious number. Right now, my job is to save a life.