Page 107 of His Last Shot
Never. It may take months or years. But I’ll never give up on us.
I’m sure returning with the same response would sound unprofessional, so she smiles and mouths, “Me too.”
Stepping forward, I take the papers from her, and our hands graze. She doesn’t let go. I don’t either. Our eyes catch and seize. The air in the room crackles and sparks. We aren’t in the ER. We are somewhere else entirely. Somewhere together. Somewhere Dexter isn’t a threat.
“Any questions?” she asks, her voice quivering because our time is almost up.
Any questions? Yes, I have a million questions. But the one I really had, I got my answer to.
She’s still single. For now. Who knows how long we will have to remain apart? She said she wouldn’t give up, but what if some hot doctor here caught her eye, and that will be that? My life will be over.
Who am I kidding? It already is. My self-confidence is in tatters. She just told me she isn’t giving up, but let’s face it. Rachel in scrubs will turn any man’s head.
“No. No questions. Thank you, though.” I lift my newly stitched hand. “For this.” And so much more.
Hot pressure burns behind my eyes, but I hold it back. She gives me a tight, sad smile. “You’re welcome. Take care, Mr. Givens.”
She turns to leave, wheeling the tray with her. Grabbing the curtain, she pulls it open, exposing us to the outside world, snapping us back into reality. She turns, only allowing her gaze to latch with mine for half a heartbeat before walking out and disappearing into the ER chaos.
I exhale and grip the papers in my hand as I walk down the hallway, but not before looking back one last time. She’s standing at the elevators. The doors open as she steps in with about five other people. She turns, looks up, and sees me. We stand in a wordless stare, full of happiness at seeing each other and sorrow because now it’s over.
I wave. She smiles. The doors close.
With my head down, I make my way out into the parking lot, the whole encounter playing on a loop in my head. How is it possible? How was that moment the best and saddest of my whole life?
I reach Scott’s truck and open the door, sliding in, as I struggle to buckle my seatbelt with only one hand. He’s quiet, watching me intently, smiling like a fool.
“What?” I ask.
“So, how didthatgo?” He starts the engine, shifts into gear, and pulls out of the parking lot.
“Well, I got thirteen stitches, and when this numbing medication wears off, I am going to be in a lot of pain. And crabby.”
“Oh, come on. You know what I mean.”
Pretending to be unbothered, I flip through the stapled stack of papers while we wait at a red light. “It was fine.”
He huffs out a puff of laughter. “Ooookay, keep telling yourself that. You two still love each other. That much was obvious.”
I ignore him, trying not to give anything away. I flip to the last page, and my heart stops dead. There, in her perfect handwriting, is a note.
I miss you. Everyday all day.
I sigh. “I miss her.” The admission spills out after reading her identical confession.
“Hmmm … well, if it’s meant to be, it will work out. She’ll come around. You’ll see.” He grins. “Sound good?”
His joke lightens my sour mood, but only slightly. Turning, I look out the window as the hospital sails past us, wishing I was still in there with her.
Yeah, Scott. That sounds good.
32
Do You Need the Room?
Johnny
Iburst through the emergency room doors, the harsh fluorescent lights momentarily blinding me as I spot Scott pacing the waiting room floor, his face etched with worry. “Scott!” I call out, my voice echoing through the crowd. He turns, charging toward me, his eyes wide and wild.
