Page 105 of His Last Shot
It’s probably for the best.
“Um. It’s Givens. January 25, 1971.” I swallow the massive lump forming in my throat. A feeble attempt to get myself under control as I watch her every movement, searing it into my brain.
After scrolling through my chart, she turns back around, head down, and puts on the gloves that rest on the metal table. “Okay, Mr. Givens, let’s take a look here.” As soon as she lifts my hand, she inhales sharply. My thumb grazes her knuckles, and even though I can’t feel it, and she’s wearing hospital gloves, I feel it.
Everywhere.
She closes her eyes and, for the briefest of moments, everything else falls away. There is no ER commotion, no beeping machines, no screaming patients down the hall.
It’s just us.
Her eyes lift to mine. She skims my face as my attention drifts to the small freckle that sits on the side of her nose. Instinct takes over as I lift my other hand and gently swipe over it with my thumb, her silky velvet skin as soft as I remember. Her breath hitches at my touch. Tears pool in her eyes, tearing my heart open. We savor the moment.
Us together again.
Alone.
A voice over the intercom announces a Code Blue on the fourth floor. Someone is probably dying, but right now, I’m alive. For the first time in three and a half years.
With a shuddering breath, she blinks back the tears and refocuses back on my hand, twisting it, poking it, wiping away any blood. “So, Mr. Givens, how did you do this to yourself?”
My hand, gaping and bleeding, is the least of my concerns. “Rachel, I—”
She releases it and stands abruptly. “Before we begin, let’s raise your bed and adjust your pillow some. I need you to be comfortable for this.” Formal nurse Rachel returns, jarring me from the moment.
I watch as she shimmies around the small space, her hips swaying with each turn and pivot, remembering how those hips felt in my hands. Now, she’s standing right by my head as she raises the back of the bed, then reaches to grab the pillow, but not before leaning in. Her face is … so close. And she still smells like summer.
Warm breath and hushed words caress my ear. “Please, just act normal. As much as I want to, I can’t. It’s too dangerous. And I’m at work.”
She lifts her head and our eyes lock, noses touching, lips hovering, tempting me.
Instead, I nod. As hard as it is to be near her and not pull her into this bed with me, I understand.
Just because I ended up at her place at work, our reality still exists. Dexter is still out there. A threat that’s always looming large.
She preps my hand, and minutes later, she’s stitching me up. We sit in silence, the moment frozen in time. But if she thinks I’m going to sit here and not talk to her, she’s nuts. We can pretend to be only patient and nurse to each other while I dig for information.
Watch me.
She pokes my skin with the needle as she concentrates. “So, how long have you worked here as a nurse, Rachel?”
She doesn’t look up. “I graduated from school about a year and a half ago and started here soon after.”
“Do you like it?”
She flicks her eyes at mine, and a small smile dances across her lips. “I love it.” She goes back to stitching. “A former boyfriend of mine pushed me to do it. And I’m so glad he did. He changed my life.”
I let those three sentences sit with me for a second, filling me up. “I bet he would like to know that. Even though you aren’t together anymore.”
“He knows.”
Yes. He. Does.
“We may not be together, but he will always be the most important person in my life,” she adds with a quiver in her voice.
“Why aren’t you together anymore?” I ask. And to anyone outside of this curtain who can hear us, this sounds like a normal conversation. But for us, right now, it means the world.
She sighs, stopping mid-stitch. “It’s a long story, but sometimes, we catch a bad break.” Her gaze lifts, and we connect. “Like in pool. You break, and the cue ball slams into the balls, and for the briefest moment, your life looks full of hope and promise. That was us. But then, the cue ball falls into the pocket, and it’s over. You lose, and the possibilities are meaningless without that cue ball. That’s what happened to us.”
