Page 16 of Night Shift

“Samantha, wait!” I called after her, running up to the landing halfway up the stairs. “Would you like to talk about it? That man…he’s your father, isn’t he? And clearly, you’re terrified of him…and rightfully so.”

“Terrified is a strong word. I can handle Mac Sheridan.”

“Doesn’t look like handling him is something you should be doing alone,” I said, taking a step closer.

“Thank you…for back there,” she murmured, her focus shifting to the ground. “But I don’t need saving, Dr. Thorin.”

“Atticus,” I corrected her softly. “Call me Atticus. And it’s not about saving you. It’s about not letting anyone harm you again.”

“Again?” She barked out a laugh, but it was hollow. “You think this was the first time?”

“Let me walk you to your door,” I said, ignoring her jadedness. “It’s the least I can do.”

Sam hesitated, her teeth tugging at her lower lip. “You don’t have to do this. You’ve done enough.”

“Indulge me.”

She gave me a small nod, and we continued up the stairs in silence.

“Nothing to say?” I prodded gently when we reached her door. Like everything else around here, it was in poor repair, its paint flaking like old scars.

“What do you want me to say, Atticus?” Sam faced me, held her palms up, and gave me a defiant scowl. “That my life’s a mess? That I’ve got a father who’s more monster than man? That I’m scared he’ll come back?”

“Any of those would be a start,” I said, leaning against the wall. “Talking helps.”

“Maybe for some, but I’ve spent years trying to forget. Talking only makes it more real—makes me think about it.”

“Sometimes reality needs to be faced,” I said, knowing all too well the demons that could haunt those who tried to escape their past.

“Facing reality is what I do every day in the ED,” she snapped. “I don’t need to face more of it at home.”

“Home should be your sanctuary, Samantha. Not another place filled with stress and anxiety.”

“Sanctuary,” she repeated bitterly. “Sounds nice. I was just beginning to feel like this place was a safe refuge…that is, until Mac showed up.”

“Let’s go inside,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“No… I appreciate the ride and…the rescue. But this is where you leave.”

As I stood there in that shadowy corridor that reeked of mildew, an unwelcome twinge of helplessness hit me. Samantha Sheridan, with her fiery hair and battle-scarred heart, was pushing me away, and all I wanted was to pull her closer.

“All right,” I conceded, careful not to let my voice betray any of my inner conflict. “But if you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

“Sure,” she said with a nod, though we both knew she wouldn’t.

She paused, then fogged the air with a sigh as she lifted her chin. Her eyes were a tumultuous sea, and I could see her wrestling with the storm within.

“Really, I’m fine. It’s no big deal,” she said too quickly. She was lying, and we both knew it. “Besides, I don’t want to burden you with my problems. I don’t need work to be awkward for either of us.”

“Burden?” I countered softly. “Samantha, I think after what just happened, we’re past professional formalities. Please, let me help.”

She shook her head, and a couple of stray curls bounced along the edges of her face.

“Atticus, I appreciate what you did, but I can handle my own life,” she insisted.

“Let me come in and have a cup of coffee at least?” I asked, stepping closer. The thought of leaving her alone, especially now, twisted something deep inside me.

“Thank you, but no. My place isn’t… It’s not somewhere I bring people,” she said as a flush crept across her freckled cheeks.

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