Page 71 of What If I Knew You

I try to smile at his last text and then toss my phone onto my bed, grab my clothes and towel, and head for the bathroom. The water is scalding as I step into it but I refuse to turn it down. The heat feels good on my skin. A reminder to my body that I’m still alive. That although I can’t save every patient that comes through the doors, I statistically save more than I lose and I need to remember that.

Still, losing small humans is heartbreaking no matter how you look at it, so I allow myself as long as I need to cry for the little boy I lost today. To grieve the loss of a small innocent soul, to question why children are taken from this world way too soon. And when all that energy is gone, and those tears are shed, I finally allow myself the pity party I so desperately needed to have this week within the confines of my shower.

Because fuck this fucking shit week I just had.

It can all go to hell.

My shower turns into a nearly thirty-minute soak by the time I finally rinse my hair, wash my body, shave, and then switch off the water. I wrap my body in a fluffy towel and step out of the shower, cursing the air for not being the same temperature my shower was. I wrap a smaller towel around my wet hair and then slip into my comfy clothes, thankful to be without a bra for the rest of the weekend. Nothing says comfort like the oldest pair of sweatpants I wore while in college and a sweatshirt so well worn it’s tattered in spots. Once I have them on my body, I wrap my arms around myself and inhale a deep breath. It’s almost the same as a comfort hug.

Almost.

As I’m applying moisturizer on my face and neck, there’s a knock on my door.

Layken.

She might not be a nurse, but she’s the one person who understands what I need when I have a shit day like this one. She’s already seen me cry once today. Hell, except for Monday I think she’s seen me cry every day this week, so it doesn’t surprise me at all that she’s stopping by to check on me.

Padding down the hall, I grab the doorknob and pull my door open, completely taken aback when I see Bodhi Roche standing there with his hands full of bags.

“B-Alan…” I blink. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

He nods toward the stairs. “Someone was coming out as I was coming in so I didn’t need buzzed in.” He holds up a bag that is already making me want to drool. The savory scent alone makes me want to weep happy tears. “Thought you could use some comfort food and a friendly face.”

“Alan,” I shake my head, “I’m sorry. I just…”

How do I say this?

“I don’t think I’m really up for lessons tonight.”

He smiles kindly. “Good because I’m not here for that. I’m here for you.”

“What?”

“You’ve had a fucking hard week,” he explains. “And I thought maybe I could help make it even just a tiny bit better for you.” He holds up the bag of Chinese takeout that he remembered I love. “So, I brought dinner because you need to eat…”

He lifts another bag. “And I brought way more snacks than either of us can handle, including cookies & cream ice cream because you said it’s your favorite.” Then he gestures to the third bag on his arm. “And in here is a comfy blanket, a bottle of vodka and some cranberry juice because I remembered what you ordered to drink that first night we met. And if your television is working, I have a streaming account so we can watch any and all sappy movies that give you all the feels.”

I hold his stare as he lowers his arms and his smile fades. His voice becomes soft and tender as he says, “And if you don’t want to watch television all wrapped up in a comfy blanket, then I’m still here. I’ll sit with you in total silence if that’s what you prefer. So, you’re not alone.” He swallows. “There’s nothing worse than being in your own head after a shitty few days and I really just wanted to, you know, make sure you’re okay.”

The helpless expression on his face alone melts me into a gigantic puddle of overwhelming sadness. Not to mention the guilt that is building up inside me over possibly going out with another man when I have this…well, whatever this is with Bodhi.

Alan.

My eyes blur as my tears well, my chin quivers, and there’s a heaviness in my chest just before I burst into tears, covering my face with my hands. “You’re so sweet to me. God, I’m so sorry, Alan.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” His voice is even softer now. He steps inside and places the bags of food on the floor by our feet and then wraps his arms around me, his strong hand on the back of my head stroking my hair.

I’m not going to lie.

His touch is comforting.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, Corri.”

“This has been the absolute shittiest week and I have nothing left to give.” My voice cracks and my body trembles as I sob big fat tears into Bodhi’s chest. “And I just can’t seem to stop crying no matter how hard I try.”

“Then don’t,” he murmurs against my ear as he holds me. “Cry it out. You never need to be ashamed of crying. Crying means you have feelings and having feelings means you’re alive. You’re human. You’re a person Corri. And you don’t have to hold the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.” His hand smooths up and down my back as I continue to cry.

“Let me hold some of the burden for you. Even if it’s just for one night.”

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