Page 52 of Doctor Second Chance

"You're stupid."

"Look, Shep, I've known you long enough to see when you're actually into someone. Don't let this slip away because of some misunderstanding. Talk to her, figure out what's going on."

I nod, surprised by Buster's uncharacteristically sound advice. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

SEVENTEEN

Elle

7:49 pm

Why is this time of the night so hard?

I stare at the ceiling, watching the shadows from passing cars dance across the stark white surface. The quiet settles in like a heavy blanket, amplifying every beep and hum of the machines around me.

My parents headed back to their hotel about an hour ago, and Isabella only managed a quick lunch visit today—no one else to see.

It's been over two full days now since Shep stopped in. This is the worst part of the day when the loneliness creeps in, and my mind starts to wander.

I can't help but imagine what Shep might be doing right now. Opie's probably tucked into bed by now. Is Shep sitting on that beautiful patio, nursing a beer and unwinding from his day? I wonder if he is sharing it with some sorry sap like me.

My heart aches, remembering how attentive he was at first. I think that is what makes it hurt so much now. If he’d never stopped in that first night or kept coming by, I wouldn’t have let myself consider the idea of him again.

I want to text him, to reach out, but pride holds me back. If he wanted to see me, he would. Fuck him. I wouldn’t talk to him right now if he tripped and fell at my feet. He is dead to me.

Once again, I'm alone, stuck in my head in this damn hospital bed. The beeping of the monitors feels like a countdown, ticking away the hours until... what? Until I'm well enough to leave? Until I can put this whole mess behind me and return to my life in Florida?

I close my eyes, willing sleep to come, but my mind keeps spinning. The what-ifs and maybes swirl around, each one more unlikely than the last. I try to focus on my breathing, on the rise and fall of my chest, anything to quiet the noise in my head.

I'm jolted from my spiraling thoughts by the sudden buzz of my phone on the rolling cart bed table. Reaching for it, I expect to see a message from a concerned co-worker checking in on me or maybe Mom texting her nightly check-in.

But when Shep's name flashes across the screen, I nearly choke on my saliva.

My heart races as I swipe to open the message.

Hey Elle, hope you're feeling better. Let me know if you need anything.

Short. Sweet. Completely impersonal.

I stare at the words, reading them over and over until they blur together. After everything we've shared this last week, after pouring his heart out to me and then ghosting, after... after our nights on his patio and then in his bedroom. This is all I get?

The fucking nerve of him.

Anger bubbles up inside me, hot and sudden. How dare he? Two days of radio silence and now this tepid check-in? It is as if he's some casual acquaintance, not the man who... Who saved my life? He toyed with my emotions and made me think there was something more between us than a casual one-night stand.

I want to throw the phone across the room. I want to scream. An indescribable, burning urge to type out a blistering response, telling him exactly where he can shove his half-hearted concern, fills my entire body.

Instead, I set the phone down, my hands shaking. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not over him. Not again.

The text sits there, unanswered, a silent accusation. A small part of me wants to ignore it completely, to show him how it feels. But another part, a treacherous, hopeful part, wants to respond, to keep that tenuous connection alive, and to fuck with him.

I close my eyes, willing the turmoil in my chest to subside. How can one little message cause so much upheaval? It's just words on a screen. It shouldn't matter this much.

But it does because it's Shep. Because for a brief, shining moment, I thought we might have a second chance. And now? Now I don't know what to think.

Thursday, July 18

6:34 am

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