Page 6 of I Still Love You

“Hey. You got it. Talk soon.”

The line goes dead, and I tuck my phone back into the pocket of my navy-blue scrubs. I take a steady breath and break out into a huge grin after. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe my hard work has paid off this much.

Susan walks into the supply closet just then, heading toward the shelf with changeover supplies. Coming up behind me, she squeezes my shoulder and reaches for what she needs. “Go home, Robinson. You deserve some rest.”

Holding the door for her, I follow her after she grabs what she needs and exits. “How is Alfreda doing?”

She moves around to the nurse’s station in the center of the department, placing her supplies down before checking the hub where notifications come in if a patient needs assistance. “She’s critical, but Dr. Limrick is staying close.”

“I have a feeling she’ll pull through,” I say quietly. “Anything I can do before I head out?”

It’s a general rule of thumb to offer help when you can. My shift might be over with, but a day could come when I might need the favor back. Us nurses are mindful about taking care of one another since all we do is take care of everyone else.

Susan hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “Get outta here, girl.”

Giving her a thankful smile, I ignore the ache in the balls of my feet as I make it back to the nurse’s lounge. My belly rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten in hours. Rather than grabbing an oatmeal bar from my lunch bag, I opt to pick something more appetizing up on the way home.

I gather my belongings from my locker and check my email to see if Aubrey has sent over my contract. Enough time hasn’t lapsed, but I check anyway, ignoring the twinge of disappointment when it’s not in my inbox.

I head for the emergency room exit and send a quick wave to Helga, our triage nurse with a reputation of being a hard ass, for the night as I pass by, noting the full waiting room. I say a silent prayer for the night nurses and exhale when the Texas warmth encases me.

Outside, I head in the direction of patient parking, wondering how much longer it’ll take for them to refurbish the staff parking lot around back. I don’t mind the extra walking at the start of my shift, but I’m not thrilled about walking to find my car in the dark. I’m about to step off the curb to cross the parking lot when two shadowy figures approach from the other end of the path that leads to the emergency entrance. I can’t quite make out the muffled voices, but it catches my attention. Probably because one—they’re heading for emergency, which means one of them isn’t well, and two—as much as I know that I need to head home and take full advantage of the next two days I’ll have off, I’m a nurse at heart.

The nurse in me casts my needs aside, replacing theirs with mine. I squint and call out, “Are you two okay?” Turning on my heel and amped up from my call with Aubrey, I forget about my car and set forth to help them.

The light from the hospital casts onto the path as I approach, illuminating the sides of our bodies, but keeping certain features shadowed in the darkness of the night. My nurse's brain taps into my backup energy reserves as I approach. “I’m a nurse here at Lonestar. Do you need help inside?”

The man on the right turns, looking away, but I can’t make out much due to the lack of light. Silence bounces between the three of us as I try to get a good look at them.

“Layla?”

Chills slither down my spine, and I halt, my fingers curling around the strap of my lunch tote. My gaze flicks to the other person, and I squint to make sure my mind isn’t hallucinating after working all day or the lack of food I’ve had since this evening. My brain works in overdrive, and in seconds, it registers who the voice belongs to. “Mason? Is that you?”

“Holy shit. What a bizarre night. You can’t be real,” Mason comments, taking a step closer. He shifts toward the light briefly, revealing his clean-cut face and the faded scar along his jaw. He looks just as he always did—kind and carefree, except tonight there’s a glossiness in his eyes and a pinch between his brows.

“She’s definitely fucking real,” the other person snaps, finally lifting his face to allow me a peek. My heart springs to attention before my brain catches on. Without a doubt in my mind—because I’d know that voice in my sleep—the muscle in my chest leaps with arms wide open at the prospect of my ex standing in front of me.

Air catches in my throat. My heart squeezes in discomfort. An Antarctic chill freezes me from the inside out. I’m an ice sculpture that can’t move, can’t speak, can’t do a damn thing.

Luke Sacks is here—a man I haven’t seen for years and left behind—and I don’t know what the heck to say. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about this moment many times. Murmured the words to myself during soaks in the bathtub, but now that I’m looking at him? My mind is blank, and my voice box no longer works. I’m mute with ribbons for a heart.

It’s a silent stare-down, an excruciating one at that. Put us out in the wild, wild, west and we could be cowboys with revolvers. Mason could count us down, and Luke would be the first to draw and fire. Then again, the revolvers wouldn’t be necessary. Since I last saw him, he’s somehow turned his eyes into more effective weapons than that of the bullet-bearing kind.

Luke’s green gaze holds me hostage before wrapping around my neck and attempting to drain the life from me. It’s hard to put words into formation. Hard as hell to think past my ex’s heated stare licking my limbs.

Until I see blood. The wine-red liquid absorbed into a napkin in his hand—and the tint of scarlet on his face—breaks me from the imaginary cuffs he snaps on me.

“You’re bleeding,” I note, shifting closer.

His back straightens, his shoulders tense. He moves back a foot, preventing me from assessing his injury. “I’m fine.”

Mason shoots Luke a dirty look before glancing back at me. “He’s not fine. It’s been bleeding nonstop for the last thirty-five minutes. He needs medical attention, but he’s being stubborn for no reason.”

“I’m a nurse here. I can take you in and see if they can get you back in a room right away. From what I can see,” I say, squinting against the inadequate light and checking out his face from a distance, “it’s likely you’ll need stitches.”

“Perfect.” Mason claps his hands once, forms them into prayer hands, and lifts them skyward. “Let’s go.”

“No.” Luke’s voice is void of emotion, but stern, as he remains still. My stomach dips similarly to when we’ve tried every avenue to bring a patient back to good health, and it doesn’t work. “Take me down the road to the other E.R.”

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