Page 9 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
Before I could respond, there was a soft knock on the door. My daddy peeked his head in, his face brightening with relief at seeing us together.
“How’s my babies doing?” my daddy asked, settling into the chair beside the bed.
“Like a train hit us,” we said in unison before dryly laughing.
“God is good, you’re still on this earth. Got good doctors, good support. Maybe even a chance at a love connection.”
“Don’t start, please.” I pointed my finger at my dad and warned him. Today was not the day to start that badgering about me now finding a man since Samaj was no longer a baby.
Samaj glanced toward the door, then back at me, lowering his voice. “So you don’t like him?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Dr. Holloway. I mean, he seems cool.” Samaj’s voice dropped, conspiratorial. “And I heard the nurses talking in the hallway. They all talk about him all day, like weirdos.”
“Samaj!”
“What?” he said, grinning for the first time since the accident. “I’m just saying. You’ve been single for a long time, Ma. Maybe it’s time. Maybe you won’t do all that yelling and fussing.”
“Boy, if you don’t…” I started, but Malik cleared his throat. Heat flooded my cheeks at the sight of Malik in the doorway, clearly having heard every word. His lips twitched like he was fighting back a smile.
“That’s enough visiting for tonight,” he said, stepping fully into the room. “You both need your rest, and visiting hours are over.”
I leaned over and carefully placed a kiss on his forehead. My dad came around and gave me a hug before we said goodbye.
“Love you, Ma. Get better.”
Dr. Holloway helped me back into my wheelchair and wheeled me back to my room.
“Your son’s got a lot of sense for seventeen,” he said, helping me back in bed. He was so gentle. And God, he smelled so damn good.
“Sometimes too much.” I watched his hands, long fingers, steady movements, no wedding ring. “How long have you been doing this? And do you love it?”
“Physical therapy? Eight years. Trauma patients specifically? Five.”
“Hhm, do you treat all your patients like this? Breaking the rules, lingering, and flirting.”
Now he did look at me, something amused flickering in his expression. “Who was flirting? I recall your son playing matchmaker.”
“I don’t need a matchmaker. And you been flirting since I woke up.”
“Didn’t say you did and have I?” he asked through low eyes.
“Good because I don’t.” Instead of wasting words on the answer to his fake innocence I tilted my head and folded my arms.
“I’m sure you don’t. But then again, I don’t know if you’re single because you’re crazy or because somebody fumbled.” He paused, studying my face. “You crazy, MiMi?”
His tone made me shift in my seat without meaning to. I wanted to hear him say my name in that low, careful voice. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had made me feel like this. Joquin from the firehouse had tried to take me out last year, but it didn’t work out. He was handsome, strong and capable, but the whole evening felt like being interviewed for a position I didn’t want. All he could talk about was how his woman needed to do this and that. And I wouldn’t be working if this went further. I almost told him to shut the fuck up a million times.
And before that? There was David, the teacher I’d met at Samaj’s parent conference three years ago. We’d gone to dinner twice before I realized I was spending the whole time talking about my son, and he was spending his time talking about his ex-wife.
But this feeling. The thoughts running through my head. The forgetting my own name, the wanting to lean into someone’s energy, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this. Maybe not since Ashe, and that had been a disaster of epic proportions.
Truthfully, I’d been afraid to take anyone seriously because I felt I’d always choose wrong. I was traumatized. And raising one kid alone was hard enough, I couldn’t take the chance on bringing the wrong energy into our lives. I’d focused on my son and providing a comfortable life for us. That had been enough.
Until now.
Malik was still watching me, waiting for an answer, and I realized I’d been quiet too long, lost in memories of mediocre dates and men who never quite measured up to the wall I’d built around myself and my son.
