Page 58 of On the Edge

“There was a complete spleen rupture from blunt impact trauma and associated internal bleeding for us to contend with.” Munson hadn’t been joking about his people skills. He was stiff and overly formal and likely scaring this family further.

“She made it through surgery,” I interrupted to add before Marissa’s mother could pass out from worry. “She’s still critical, but Doctor Munson stopped the bleeding.”

“As best we could.” Munson’s mouth twisted. He was even worse at accepting praise than me. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be key.”

“She’s alive. You hear that, Mom?” One of the women holding the mother’s hands squeezed her.

“She’s a fighter,” another added, echoing Eric from earlier. “Thank you for giving her a chance.”

“She’s lucky to be surrounded by so much love.” I gestured at the whole room. “Keep the good energy coming for her, but make sure you all get food and sleep too.”

“When can I see her?” the mother asked.

“Mom. You just want to lecture her about the motorcycle.” The guy on his phone looked up long enough to gently joke. “Let Marissa rest.”

“She’s in recovery now. But once she’s transferred to ICU, we can see about some limited visitation.” Munson was still stiffer than a packing box, but his offer drew smiles from all around the room. He’d brought hope, and that was the important thing.

Walking back to finish my shift and clock out, I was flagged down by another supervisor, Dottie, one of my least favorite coworkers, who managed a lot of our scheduling.

“Jonas!” Dottie called out in a high trill. “Just the nurse practitioner I was hoping to see.”

“You need another shift covered?” I didn’t even try to hide my yawn. “I’m about to clock out, and I’ve already agreed?—”

“Not today, luckily,” she chirped. “You go home and sleep. But we had a callout for tomorrow. You’ll cover, right?”

Tomorrow.It was long past midnight, which meant tomorrow was the day Declan returned. Sean had already said he’d do the airport run, so I could accept the shift, see Declan a little later, have the talk we most definitely needed.

But I was tired. So very, very tired. I covered for everyone else to the point I seldom took my own advice to rest. Self-care? I had no clue what that would even look like for me. I turned to stretch, buying a few seconds to think, and caught a glimpse of Marissa Darcy’s family. They were all gathered together around Marissa’s mother, heads bowed in some sort of prayer or moment of thanksgiving.Family.

Longing hit me square in the chest.

Life was too short and precious to keep burying my deepest wants. It hurt to unearth those wants and acknowledge them in the daylight, but something had to change. Something had to give, and that something was me.

“Not this time.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Declan

A cold, drippy March rain greeted me upon my return to Portland, and by the time I made my way to my dad’s truck in the pickup line, full-on sheets of rain poured from the sky. For a moment, I missed the desert. Funny how fast I’d become used to the dryness again.

“You hungry?” Dad asked as we left the airport. “Denver will tease me about cheating on him with Portland food, but I’d rather get an early dinner and avoid the worst of this rain and rush hour.”

“Sure, we can eat. I skipped lunch,” I admitted as Dad turned away from the highway and toward the nearby shopping area filled with big-box stores and chain restaurants. He wasn’t nearly the foodie his boyfriend was, and I wasn’t surprised when he picked a local chain burger place. “And sorry for making you battle traffic. I know the flight was at an awkward time. I could have caught the Mount Hope shuttle?—”

Dad made an indignant noise as he parked near the restaurant’s entrance. “I’m not letting my kid catch the shuttle when I’ve got a perfectly working truck.”

“You sound like Grandpa.” I snort-laughed because it was true. Dad sounded exactly like his fire chief father.

“Turns out he has some wisdom.” Dad adopted a superior tone. “You’ll see someday.”

“You do know I’m an adult now.” I was still bristling at thekidremark, more so because of the talk we needed to have. I supposed a public restaurant wasn’t the worst choice for said talk, but it sure wasn’t the best. Accordingly, I was grateful when the young hostess seated us at a booth in the back.

“Yep.” Dad slid in across from me. “You can even order a beer with the dinner I’m about to buy you.”

“I can buy.”

“Adult, check. Generous, check.” Dad ticked items off on an imaginary list. “But I’m buying. I know bike parts aren’t cheap.”

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