Page 36 of Healed Heart
Should I tell him?If I’m wrong, he’ll definitely write me off forever as a man who can’t accept his wife’s death, can’t move forward, isn’t stable enough for this surgery.
But then I think… Fuck it.Caution to the wind.
“Because I’ve discovered something.Something about my wife’s death.”
ChapterThirteen
Angie
My heart drops to my stomach.
Tabitha’s eyes are wide as she stares at me.“Yourboyfriend?What is he talking about, Angie?”
“He must be delirious,” I say.
“Ralph, what are you talking about?”Tabitha asks.
“Ask her,” Ralph says before closing his eyes again.
His face is badly beaten.It looks like someone used him as a punching bag.I can’t bear to look at him, but I can’t look away either.
“Angie?”Tabitha’s voice is filled with confusion.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady.But the truth is creeping up on me like the chill of a ghost.
I swallow hard, fighting the lump in my throat.I shift my gaze from Ralph’s battered face to Tabitha’s concerned one and then to the white walls of the hospital room.I inhale the stinging scent of antiseptic.
“I need to step out,” I murmur.
Tabitha reaches out and grabs my hand.“Angie, what’s going on?”
“I just need some air.”I pull away from her grip and exit the room.
Eli is returning from the restroom, but I whisk by him.The hallway seems to stretch on forever as I walk toward the nearest exit.
When I finally reach the hospital garden, I collapse onto a bench and put my head in my hands.The winter air is cool against my skin, and for a moment it brings a bit of relief that distracts me from the turmoil inside.But soon, the wind starts to pick up, bringing a biting chill that matches the ice forming in my veins.
No way did Jason do this.Sure, I told him Ralph was no doubt the one who emailed HR—and that he came on to me—but Jason is a doctor, a healer.
He would never deliberately hurt another human being.
Would he?
My mind spins with unending questions, each one more horrifying than the last.But amid the tumultuous thoughts, a singular notion forms that cuts me to the core.
I hardly know Jason at all.
How long has it been?A few days?Weeks?Not nearly enough time to fully understand the man behind his gorgeous exterior.What evidence do I have of his goodness, other than his title as a doctor?
In a flash, every sweet gesture he’s made feels like a potential mask, an intricate disguise to hide something dark.Every shared laugh and tender moment is now tinged with bitter doubt.
“No,” I whisper to myself.“He’s not like that.He can’t be.”
But doubt has a way of growing and festering.
I look up as a figure approaches me.
It’s Tabitha.
