Go before someone sees you.
I hit the button with the downward arrow and wait. The elevator always takes a while due to patients being loaded and unloaded on each floor, so I suffer in silence as I wait.
Sarah Lynn.
Ana Lucia.
Luis Fernando.
The list of lives that have been lost during my time as a NICU nurse plays in my head, along with Debra’s cries. I promised myself long ago that I would never forget the ones who didn’t make it, and despite the list getting longer, I haven’t yet.
I’m not sure how long I spend waiting for the elevator, but next thing I know, I’m wiping at my wet cheeks and cursing myself for having a breakdown in public.
I’m supposed to be the strong one. The person parents look to for help and support, yet here I am, crying my eyes out in a hallway where anyone can stumble upon me.
I turn away from the elevator, thinking I’m better off using the stairwell. Before I take a single step toward the door, the elevator opens with ading.
“Catalina?”
My body turns to stone at the sound of Luke’s voice.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The illuminated exit light taunts me as I battle between making a run for it or turning to face Luke like an adult.
With a reluctant sigh and a quick swipe over my cheeks and underneath my nose, I do the latter. His brows rise as his gaze collides with mine, making the ache in my chest worse.
I can only imagine what I look like right now, so I steel my spine and slide my cold mask of indifference into place as I mentally prepare for whatever questions he will pepper me with.
When the elevator doors begin to close, he throws his arm out to stop them.
“Were you looking to go downstairs?” His question surprises me, not only because he predicted my next move, but also since he chose to overlook the fact that I was crying.
I nod because I don’t trust my voice to not break.
He reaches over and presses a button. “I’ve got a better idea.”
When I don’t enter the elevator right away, he lets out a heavy breath. “If you don’t want to be around anyone, that’s fine. I completely understand.”
“No,” I say too quickly, catching me by surprise. Usually, I’m the first one to avoid others until I can get my emotions under control, but the idea of being alone makes me feel worse.
So Luke is your best option?
I glance up at him through tear-soaked lashes and am taken aback by how concerned he looks. It feels nice for someone to be worried about me for once rather than being the one to fuss over everyone else, and I soak it up, allowing the warmth of his gaze to erase the cold feeling of dread that was overwhelming me earlier.
He dips his head. “Then get in.”
I don’t need to be told twice. Anywhere seems better than here right now, so with a deep breath, I enter the elevator and hope for the best.
Turns out Luke’s idea is far superior to mine. The sixth floor, which is nothing but a small rooftop patio with an ashtray and an empty planter that serves as a makeshift trash can, gives me enough space and privacy to properly breathe for the first time in hours. The smell of antiseptic still clings to my scrubs, skin, and hair, but the crisp air rolling off the lake clears my foggy head.
I lean against the ledge and shut my eyes, counting my breaths to keep my mind away from unpleasant thoughts.
Luke stands beside me, giving me some much-needed warmth as our sides press together. When he asks if I’m cold, I shake my head, although his gaze narrows at the goose bumps spreading across my arms.
No way in hell I’m going to confess that the reaction is because of him, not the weather, so I stick to saying nothing at all. He does the same, which might be a first. Come to think of it, I don’t remember him ever sitting in comfortable silence before—a fact I bluntly point out.
“I don’t like long pauses,” he answers after my rude comment.