Page 24 of Near Miss

I give him a flat look. “What do you think? Half the residents see me in the hallway and they turn the other way. They used to keep count of how many tears I’d caused. They said I drank them for breakfast.”

“Oh, come on.” Beckett laughs. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m too serious, some might say.” I give him a rueful smile and a tiny shrug. “I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just ... important. That’s all.”

My hand drops to my side, and my fingers press against the bottom of my rib cage. Beckett blinks, and when he does, I feel like maybe he’s trying to peel off these layers to understand me, but I don’t think I’m ready for that so I dig my fingers in and hold on to them for dear life.

The elevator stops, and the doors slide open.

Beckett gestures for me to walk out first, and I think it’s all safe—that he doesn’t know me, not really—that he doesn’t see right through me. But he grabs the crook of my elbow, all of it fitting into the palm of his hand. And he does look right through me when he whispers, “It is important.”

I glance down to his hand, the way his fingers feather against the sleeve of my scrubs, and I swallow, offering him a small nod before taking a measured step back.

If it bothers him, he doesn’t say. The usual friendly mask slips back into place as we fall into step beside one another, winding through the halls peppered with carts and empty cots and abandoned IV poles. He keeps up easily, one stride equaling two of mine, a bit like a puppy, bounding along beside me. “Who are we here to see?”

“Theo.” I glance down at my watch. “His parents told me yesterday he’s a big football fan. They heard you were volunteering and asked if I could put in a good word.”

Beckett falters, a furrow creases his brow, and a muscle in his cheek twitching. “He’s a kid? And he wants to see me?”

“Oh—” I stop, pausing in the middle of the hallway. “I’m sorry, I should have asked. I know this is a weird place for you. I wasn’t thinking about your sister. I was just excited that he wanted to see you. He’s a bit shy, but he’s almost eighteen, if it makes a difference.”

He shakes his head, and those worry lines around the corners of his eyes disappear. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just happy I played well this week. The last thing I need is for someone to throw a subpar hospital meal in my face.”

“I’ll have you know the food here is actually pretty good. It’s a point of pride.” I gesture towards the door at the end of the hallway.

Beckett cuts me a look, his strides more purposeful again. “I’ll be the judge of that. You can take me to the cafeteria sometime.”

“So you can make fun of our cuisine?” I arch an eyebrow, raising a fist to knock on the open door. “I don’t think so.”

There’s this tiny voice calling from the room, one that doesn’t seem like it would belong to an almost-eighteen-year-old, but I think there’s something about this place that reduces us all to nothing more than children. “Come in.”

Theo sits propped up on his hospital bed, brown curls pushed off his face and hidden under a hat that’s not unlike the one Beckett wears, eyes firmly glued to the iPad in his hands.

“Hey, Theo. How are you feeling today?” I smile softly at him, and I mean it. “Can I come in?”

Theo’s eyes flick up. “Did you bring him?”

“I did.” I nod in confirmation, hiking a thumb over my shoulder. “Theo, this is Beckett. Beckett, this is Theo.”

I don’t wait for Beckett—I know enough about him to know he’s going to come right in and make himself at home.

He does. He strolls in, grinning and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world when I sit down at the computer and start to pull up Theo’s labs.

“Theo.” Beckett nods. “Great to meet you.”

“Nice field goal Saturday. The one in the third.” Theo looks at him for a minute before looking back down at his iPad.

Beckett’s smile splits. “It was nice, wasn’t it?”

He turns to look at me, giving me an obvious thumbs up before he grabs the chair beside Theo’s bed and swings it around. Beckett drops his arms over the back of it, the picture of casual, and he leans forward, looking at something Theo points to.

They’re in their own little world, I think. Neither seems to care that I’m supposed to be rounding and checking on Theo’s vitals and his incision. Beckett’s childlike in his exuberance, and Theonods along, pointing at different things on his screen, eyes all wide.

But Beckett looks back up at me and my eyes find his instead of all the things I need to be looking at. His features soften, and the left corner of his lips kick up, that dimple in his cheek pops, and he mouths the wordsthank you.

I swallow, and I feel my heart beat in my chest—this irregular sort of pattern that would usually scare me. But it doesn’t. I blink at him mouthing,You’re welcome, and before I can glance back to the screen, Beckett gives me another exaggerated thumbs up.

I roll my eyes, like I’m bothered by him and his presence has been this great, big nuisance.

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