Page 94 of Tulips and Lost Time

“Pretty much. It was just another blow to the heart I wanted so badly to mend.”

28

LUC

HOW MUCH HURT CAN A HEART TAKE?

“Hey, Kari!?” I catch sight of her at the end of the hall, her dark blue scrubs just another in a sea of blue scrubs. But her hair is wild and beautiful, acting as a beacon amongst waves and storms. “Hey!”

She hears me, glancing my way when I lift my arm above my head and wave. But she doesn’t want to be near me. She doesn’t want to know me. So she continues into a room and leaves me in her dust.

Stay the fuck away, jerkoff.

“Ouch.” Mitch stops on my right, his elbow touching my arm as the emergency room runs amidst a chaotic calm around us. Our latest patient has been handed off. A grown man who fell off a ladder. I’d bet my hat they’ll find it’s broken in more than one place once they get him up to x-ray. “Things still aren’t okay between you two, huh?”

“New drama.” I turn on my heels and step out of the way when a trauma team wheels a stretcher past us and into the elevator. “She was talking to me last week. Now we’re back to square one.”

“What did you do?” He reaches up and turns his radio down, the chatter and static, a sound I’m not sure is ever truly gone from my ears. Even when I sleep, I hear it. Even when I’m on my bike, alone, just me and the road, I hear it. “How could you have possibly tossed everything in the trash and fucked up so bad you’re back to square one?”

“I didn’t.” And with that, I shove away from the wall and move in the direction she left in. “I didn’t mess anything up this time. I’m a victim to circumstance.”

“Sounds like a cop out,” Mitch calls at my back. “Maybe don’t piss her off anymore.”

“Take your thirty-minute break,” I respond instead. “I’m taking mine.” I quicken my steps and peek into rooms as I pass. The ED is filled to the brim with idiots after a Sunday and too much free time. Dudes who climb ladders to fix something on their roof. Kids who stack their bikes or fall out of treehouses. Mitch and I have been in and out of the hospital all shift, like yo-yos at the end of an elastic string. But union rules say we’re entitled to a break, and I’m done letting Kari ice me out when, in the most basic sense, I did nothing wrong. “Kari Macchio?” I peek into a room and draw the eyes of two techs—neither of which are who I’m looking for. “Do you know where Kari is?”

Both shake their heads, so I pull out and move to the next. “Kari?”

“In the storeroom,” Doctor Eastgate steps out, hooking his thumb backwards to guide me. “I was just in there.”

“Great. Thanks.” I shove through the heavy wooden door and find her busily scanning the shelves for supplies. So hurriedly, I examine every wall. Every corner. Then I spin and lock the door again so no one else gets to come in.

“Luca?” Kari’s shaking voice hits the back of my neck. “What are you?—”

“I’m done letting you run from me.” I give the handle a gentle, final jiggle, to make damn sure we won’t be disturbed, then I turn and press my back to the wood and look Kari up and down. Scrubs are not made to be sexy. They’re boxy and awkward. Pockets galore, and with those pockets come all sorts of lumpy contents that further distort a woman’s shape beneath the fabric. But I study her now, from her plain black sneakers and up to the cute little watch pinned over her chest. I spy her wild hair, tied back in a braid that would minimize volume on most other women. But not Kari. Her hair won’t be tamed. I bring my focus up to her terrified eyes and thrill in the emotions dancing in them.

She knows why I’m here. Which means she can’t claim ignorance.

“Luc—”

“I’m sorry about what happened at dinner.” I stalk away from the door, slow, measured steps, and stare at the way she nervously swallows. “I’m sorry it went down the way it went down.”

“I’m not mad at Britt.” She fakes confidence and lifts her chin, gripping boxes of gloves in her hands as though they become her shield. “She didn’t know about our history.”

“But you’re mad at me.” Another step closer. “You’re mad that it ever happened.”

“I’ve had nearly four years to come to grips with the fact that it happened.” Aloof, she looks straight through me. “I’m over it.”

“You’re not over it!” Another step, until just three feet separate us. “You’re not over it, Bear. Because we were talking a few days ago. It was shaky and stilted, but it was happening. And now you leave a room when I’m in it. You stare into my fucking eyes when I call your name, and then you walk away, anyway.”

“I’m working!” She thrusts the boxed gloves between us. “This isn’t a vacation, Luc! We’re being paid to be here.”

“And now you’re on your thirty-minute break.” I snatch one of the boxes from her hand and lob it across the small storeroom, so it hits the shelf with a clatter. “It’s time we duke it out, Bear. We can do it here, now. We still have twenty-nine minutes to work through our shit. Or we can do it later. We both get off shift at the same time, which means you’ll put your ass on my bike, we’ll ride somewhere no one will hear us, and then we’ll argue.”

“I don’t wanna?—”

“We’ll argue until we come to an understanding. Because I’m done with this! I’m done walking on eggshells and being terrified of speaking just one wrong word, for fear you’ll hate me more.”

“I’m not making you?—”

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