Page 74 of Gamble
She gave Reagan another wink before leaving them alone.
“Fuck,” Elijah muttered to himself as the door closed behind her. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”
“What didn’t you want to happen?” Reagan asked softly, still from her position beside him.
Elijah’s entire body went rigid. Slowly, painfully, he turned his head to find her, his eyes widening when he saw her sitting in the corner chair.
“Reagan?” His voice was barely a whisper. “What... how are you here?”
She stood and moved into his line of sight, noting how his eyes tracked her movement like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“Hello, Elijah.”
“You’re not supposed to be working today,” he said, confusion clear in his still-groggy voice. “I checked. You weren’t on the schedule.”
“I’m not working,” she confirmed, moving closer to his bedside. “I’m off duty.”
“Then why are you here?” Confusion mingled with pain in his eyes.
Reagan reached out and touched his hand, noting how he flinched at the contact. Not from pain, but from surprise. From vulnerability.
“To take care of you, of course.”
“Reagan, you don’t understand?—”
She leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead, silencing his protest with the first olive branch meant to mend the cavern that had grown between them. When she pulled back, his eyes were wide with something that looked like wonder.
“Does that feel like a dream?” she asked softly.
“I thought... when I was going under, I thought I saw you. But the drugs...” He was struggling to make sense of her presence, his analytical mind trying to process information while still clouded by anesthesia.
“It wasn’t the drugs. I was there.” After moving the chair closer, she settled back in—close enough to touch his hand butfar enough to give him space. “I’ve been here since before your surgery started.”
“Why?” The single word carried so much pain, so much confusion. “I didn’t think you’d ever speak to me again.”
At her lowest point in the last few weeks, she wasn’t sure she’d ever speak with him again either. But that was before. Reagan took a breath, choosing her words carefully. This was the moment that would determine everything that came next.
“You hurt me, Elijah, and I’m not sure I’ve totally forgiven you yet, but...” Reagan paused, taking in the pain in his eyes she was pretty sure was not all caused by his recent surgery. “Last Friday I was so furious that I went to Runway looking for you. I demanded to see you, and that’s where I met your friends.”
His eyes widened. “You went to Runway?” His voice cracked with emotion.
“I was desperate for answers, Elijah. You ghosted me, and I needed to know why.” She kept her voice gentle but firm. “That’s where I met Nalani.”
“That little sneak. She drove me here today but conveniently left that little detail out. What did she tell you?” His voice was controlled, but she could see the worry in his eyes.
“The truth. That you’d hurt yourself. That you were having surgery. And that for some idiotic reason, you’d convinced yourself you were too old for me, and I deserved better.”
She watched relief and embarrassment war across his features.
“What if I don’t want you to see me like this?” he asked, vulnerability bleeding through his usual confidence.
“Like what? Injured?” Reagan couldn’t help but smile. “I’m a nurse, Elijah. I see injured people all the time. Next question?”
“I’m weak,” he said, almost defiantly.
“Most injured people are. You’ll get stronger again. Next?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m old.”
