Page 48 of A Fighting Chance

After he pays for our food, we round the corner and search for Harper and Nan. The cafeteria is a little busier than the waiting area upstairs, but that makes sense given the time of morning it likely is.

We spot them in the corner next to the windows, where Harper sees us and waves us over. Once we’re there, we take our seats—me next to Nan and Gentry across from me, next to Harper.

“Did you guys see the doctor before you came down?” Harper asks.

Nan looks at me, hopeful, and my heart aches for her all over again right then and there over my plate of overpriced hash browns.

“No, nothing yet,” I say.

We sit in silence eating for a little while. I mostly pick, moving the potatoes around on my plate, occasionally taking a bite. I try, but it’s no use. I can’t force myself to eat, as much as I want to. Nan stares out the window, sipping her coffee in silence, while I exchange worried glances with Gentry then Harper and then Gentry again. I don’t like feeling helpless. I don’t like waiting like this with no way to do anything to help.

“I should go back up. I don’t want the doctor to come out while no one is up there and then we miss him,” Nan says suddenly. She starts to rise from her chair and Harper follows suit.

“I’ll go with you,” Harper says, pushing her chair in and collecting her tray from the table. She looks at me and Gentry, and we exchange nods.

I’m glad they’re going back up. I hadn’t thought about it, but Nan is right. We should make sure someone is up there and available for the doctor at all times. Nan reaches down and kisses me on the cheek, then she disappears with Harper as they cross the cafeteria, leaving the two of us alone at our spot.

I look at Gentry and we smile at each other. It feels like neither one of us knows what to say right now. Most silences that have passed between us have been comfortable, but not this one. Maybe it’s due to being at the hospital, or this specific situation in general, but something is messing us up right now.

“You’re stressed,” he says, and I nod my head in agreement. “And you need a distraction.” He stands up and holds his hand out to me.

Confusion takes hold of me for only a second, but curiosity settles in and wins over. I place my hand in his and he tugs me up from my seat, pulling me toward the exit of the cafeteria.

Instead of heading back to the cardiology floor, he takes me one floor down and we exit into the parking garage. He’s still tugging me along as he pulls me down a row of cars until we reach his truck. He opens the passenger door and ushers me in.

“We can’t leave,” I say, but he shakes his head.

“We won’t,” he assures me.

I climb in and watch him walk around and take his place behind the wheel. Silence falls over the cab, and I wonder for a moment if we’re permanently broken.

He shifts in his seat then and lifts the middle console between us up, leaving no barriers between us now. He leans toward me and I feel my heart start to race a little. He reaches his arms out for me. “Come here.”

Before I can protest or think better of it, my body instinctively slides over to his.

He wraps his arms around the center of my back and begins rubbing small soothing circles on my skin. Tension begins to leave me, and I exhale a long, deep breath. He brings his face close to mine, hovering just inches away, and I want to kiss him but I resist the urge. Whatever this is, I want him to lead. He sweeps light kisses across my cheek and all the way back to my ear so we’re cheek to cheek. I can hear him breathing, can feel it on my skin. It sends a wave of goosebumps over me.

“I remember you that day,” he says. “I remember looking up at the bathroom window and seeing your face twisted in pleasure. I tried so hard to look away, but I couldn’t.”

As he speaks to me, his hands move over my body. They dip low to the edge of my leggings, and he tugs gently on the front hem, just below my belly button.

“I remember wishing I could have you right then, wanting to be the one who made your face do that,” he says. “I wanted to be the instrument of your pleasure.”

My chest tightens, my legs go limp. His hand dips into my panties and I shudder.

“I remember wishing I could watch your face do that up close,” he whispers.

His fingers travel lower, over my sensitive skin, trailing my folds. My body reacts instinctively, arching toward him, desperate for his touch.

“Will you let me watch you? Will you let me be that instrument?” he asks.

I nod my head, breath ragged in my chest.

“Lean back,” he instructs.

I do as he says, lying down on his truck seat. I rest my head against the door, so he can see my face.

He pulls my pants and panties down in one motion, exposing me. He puts each of my legs on either side of him so he’s sitting between them—the most sacred part of me on full display for him. He looks down at me, appreciation and hunger gripping his features. He begins again with his fingers, moving over me softly before dipping them inside me.

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