Page 19 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
“Usually when I’m on a mission, someone’s dying,” he retorted.
“Right now, the dying one is you, and I’m trying to keep you alive, so can you trust me?” I peered up at his large frame.
He huffed out a breath but nodded shortly.
“Seriously. I need you to trust me. Your existence depends on it.” Not too fine of a point on it, Cora, jeez.
A look of sheer misery crossed his face. “I do.” I believed him. One of his better qualities was his unwavering loyalty, despite all the time that had passed.
“Right. Cross the hall and take your first left.”
He took my arm and we sauntered across, both pretending at an intimacy that didn’t exist anymore.
We separated at the bathrooms and we went inside. I balled up my coat and put it on the other side of the garbage. My old navy blue maintenance suit was in my bag, folded neatly. I tugged it on and fastened the buttons, pulling out the real badge with my picture pasted neatly on it. Stephanie Ko hadn’t workedhere for a few years but they didn’t need to know that. Their system was woefully behind.
I pulled the braid into a large bun and stepped out. He was already there. The arms of his suit were rolled up to reveal muscled forehands, big hands. The one he borrowed was a bit tight. I wasn’t personally complaining but he was pulling at his collar, looking like he was choking.
I stepped forward and undid the first two buttons. “Comfort is important. You look like you’re suffocating.”
“Cor, I am so out of my comfort zone.” He glanced up at the light blue walls, grimacing.
I don’t know when he went back to my old nickname.
“Dae, look at me.” He looked my way. “The one we’re saving now is you. We both got into this mess and we’re going to get out. Remember what Dad used to say about not being able to help others if you can’t help yourself? If you want to go back to pulling fae out of flaming car wrecks, we gotta steel up.”
“I know you’re right. Feels weird to steal from kids though.” I nearly melted. Bless his heart. Oh wait.
“That heart is yours and belongs back in your chest,” I urged a bit too aggressively. “It doesn’t belong to anyone but you.” I had no issue having enough steel for the both of us.
“That’s not necessarily true,” he muttered moodily, looking down at his feet.
“Body part. Yours. It is that simple to me.”
I walked around him to get to the supply closet, swiping the badge at the reader and turning the light on. A half-filled cart was in front of us.
“Come on, kelpie.”
I pulled it out and grabbed a broom, adding it to the side.
“Where to next?”
“Down this hallway to the right,” I said pointing with my hand, “…is his clinical meeting place thingie.”
Seeing his eyebrow raised at my terminology, “Look, he has two offices, one for professional meetings and one where he gets his actual work done. I wasn’t a linguistics major.”
He snorted at me. “Lead the way.” Fine, at least he’s amused by me. I’ll take that over crying desperation.
We walked down the hall and the motion sensor lights turned on.
“Keep your head down.”
“Hmm?”
“Cameras. This would literally be the worst time to canvas around.”
“Ah.” He took note of my suggestion but his coal-black eyes still flitted. Some habits are harder to stop.
He continued to push our yellow cart down till we stopped in front of the placard that read “Dr Ziedlin, MD.”
