Page 11 of The Two Last Moments

“Nah, I’m good,” she says with her mouth full. “I heard your stomach growling.”

“My stomach thanks you.” I lift my burger like I’m toasting her, then take a bite.

We eat in silence for a bit before she speaks again.

“You said you had to make a call?”

I wipe my mouth with a paper napkin. “To update my friend Matteo. He’s taking care of my grandmother while I’m here. She’s not well, and I moved in with her and took time off work recently to help out.”

“Oh.” Lark frowns, picking at her fries. “Does she need you? Do you have to go?”

“She’s covered for now. She’s got nurses, and some more friends of mine are heading over in a bit.”

“You seem like someone with a lot of friends.”

“I guess so. I’ve never had trouble making them. I must not be intimidating. Some have even said I have nice eyes.” I wink, and she studies me with an amused glimmer in her green ones. Then she glances down and pops another fry into her mouth.

“Thank you for being here. It reallyisnice of you, and I think that’s rare. Most people don’t give a shit.”

“Are you thinking of something specific?”

“I’m light on specifics at the moment.”

“Of course, my mistake. I guess I’m just a nice guy. But if you’d rather I not stay, say the word.”

“Don’t go,” she says quickly, and then her cheeks darken like she’s embarrassed. “Unless you have to.”

I slouch in my chair, all casual. “I’m happy to stick around. This is like a vacation for me, actually. Cheeseburgers and conversation. All right by me.”

Lark gives me a hesitant smile. She eats another fry. “You don’t make this a habit? Sitting at the bedside of every stranger you save?”

“If they asked me to, I would.”Probably, I add silently.Maybe.

“So you’re the selfless type?”

Ha, no. “That’s overstating my qualities. What type are you?”

She hums like she’s thinking. “I suspect I’m the cynical and broody type. With a heavy dash of sarcasm.”

I laugh again. “You don’t remember your last name, but you remember that much?”

She shrugs. “Guess so.”

We talk a bit more, until Lark’s eyelids are heavy, staying closed for longer and longer each time she blinks. Before long, she’s asleep.

Minutes tick by, and I squirm in my seat, wondering what the heck I’m doing.

Lark asked me to stay, but I was sticking around even before she said those words.Would I make this a habit?No. Hell, no. It would be nice if I could sit at the bedside of every injured person I help on the job, but that’s not how things go. When I treat people at the scene of a fire or some other emergency, I’m a fleeting presence in their lives. There and gone.

Nina’s an exception because she’s my grandma. And because she’s earned it.

But with Lark I feel this urge, beyond all reasoning and logic, to hover. Check on her. Make her feel safe. Maybe it’s because she got hurt on Nina’s street. Or because she screamed for me in the ED like I was the only person in the world who could calm her.

Or the way my chest swells and my pulse thumps when her green eyes lock on mine.

Or it could be the memory of that car bearing down on her. The thud of her body when it hit. The horror inside me when I realized the driver was coming back around for another go at her, and the fragile weight of her in my arms.

That must be it. I’m worried the guy will figure out where she is and try to hurt her again. Nowthatmakes sense.

---