Page 44 of The Next Of Us
Especially after he had confessed, multiple times, that he felt good leaving his patients in my hands.
I wrapped my hand around the back of my neck and squeezed.Hard.
That was not nearly as painful as the noose that tightened daily.
Friday, the earth suddenly remembered it was winter.The temperature dropped dangerously, the type of cold that froze the inside of your nose withing seconds.The view from my office window was gray and bleak.The old furnace worked double time and still my hands were cold.When my final appointment of the day canceled, I packed up and headed home to the warmth of our cocoon.
The short drive seemed interminably long, and when I finally rolled in the door, the cold stayed with me.
Nadine was waiting in the family room.She looked up, a hesitant smile on her face.“Hi, honey.Are you hungry?”
With a book open on her lap, she looked the very picture of what I’d always wanted for her.
I shook my head.“Not really.”
She frowned.“Did you eat today?”
I looked away almost too tired to answer.“I’ll get changed and then we’ll eat.”
Slogging my way to our bedroom was like walking through hip-deep water.
My legs ached.
My brain lagged.
My fucking hands shook.
The bed called to me.If only I could peel back the covers and slip underneath, pull my wife’s soft body into the curve of mine, and sleep with my nose buried in her hair.
But I’d worried her enough.
Shedding my clothes, I tossed them into the hamper, grabbed a pair of trackpants, and pulled on an old band T-shirt.Breathing deep, I repeated Max’s words of wisdom, ones he’d shared with me time and time again.
Sometimes the only way around is through.
And I could get through this.
I could get to the other side.
Nadine’s worried gaze found me as soon as I returned to the family room.I sent her a hopefully reassuring smile and dropped into the armchair, utterly thankful for the blinds that shut us away from the rest of the world.“Tired.”
Moving to the corner of the couch closest to me, she tucked her legs under her and leaned over the side, her hands clasped.Her serious gaze pinned me to my seat.“For two weeks you were back to your normal self.One week at work and I feel like I’m losing you all over again.What is going on?”
I met her stare.
She’d always been my anchor.
“I feel trapped.”
She leaned in closer, her eyes soft and concerned.“Trapped how?”
I rubbed a rough hand over my face.
My true north.
“In my job.”
Eyes that saw clear through to my soul flitted between mine as her brow furrowed.“Why are you trapped?If you really want to do something else, what’s stopping you?”
