Page 25 of Falling for Leanne

Leanne looked up at me, the expression in her eyes telling me she was reluctant to see me walk away from her. Then she lifted her stubborn chin, and she said, “Sure, thanks. That would be great.”

As I made my way to the cafeteria, my phone rang. It was Kyle.

“Hey, you want to meet up for a beer around six?” he asked.

“I can’t tonight,” I said tersely.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m at the hospital. I’m fine, Cory’s fine. My intern got a call that her dad had a heart attack. I drove her to the hospital. She wasn’t in any condition to get behind the wheel. I’m staying till we hear one way or another about his surgery.”

Kyle gave a low whistle. Disgusted, I said, “It’s not like that. She’s hurting and scared.”

“I know exactly what you mean. She’s suffering. You want to be the one to make it better for her.” Kyle said it in a way that made it clear he wasn’t giving me crap about this or making any kind of innuendo about Leanne and me.

His voice was matter of fact, even kind. He was speaking from experience. He knew how much I wanted to comfort her, to be the person who she turned to when she was in need. I thought I had hidden it better than that, but Kyle knew me well. I

didn’t know what to say to that.

“The fact that you’re speechless tells me everything I need to know. Just be smart about it, man. I hope her dad’s okay. And I hope you are, too.”

Kyle hung up, and I got the coffee. Almost as soon as I made it back to the waiting area and handed them their steaming cups, the surgeon came out to speak to Leanne. As he approached, she passed her coffee to Rina and reached for me. Her hands were on my arm, holding on. It felt good that she wanted to hold on to me, that she trusted me to hold her up, to be with her in such a moment of crisis.

“I’m Dr. Feldstein,” he said. “Your father came through surgery and he’s in recovery. I placed two stents, and if all goes well, he’ll have a diet and rehab regimen when he’s released in a few days.”

“You mean he’s going to be okay?” she gasped out.

“Barring any complications—and I'm good at my job, so I don’t see any reason to worry about that—your father will be home next week. He’ll need to follow the diet and his activity level will be restricted until he’s completed cardiac rehab. He shows every sign of making a successful recovery. He’ll be in recovery for a few hours. When he’s in Cardiac ICU, you’ll be able to see him for a few minutes. A nurse will notify you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Feldstein,” she said, blinking back tears.

Leanne turned to me as he walked away. The relief on her face, the joyous smile nearly took my breath away. Then she was in my arms, hugging me, laughing and crying at the same time. I just held her close, bent and buried my face in her neck and her strawberry blonde hair, breathing her in.

She held on a lot longer than a friendly hug would call for, but I wasn’t complaining a bit. If her friend saw it, so what? Leanne had the scare of her life and she’d just had the best news she could hope for. If what she wanted was to be in my arms, then I was more than happy to hold her as long as she’d let me. And if that made me happy in a way that went beyond being glad that her dad’s surgery was successful and having appropriate sympathy for her situation, that was my problem.

CHAPTER17

LEANNE

Iwoke with a start, blinking in the harsh light. I was in the waiting room of the hospital. After I found out my dad was going to be okay, the terror and adrenaline I'd been running on had given way to a crash. I’d fallen asleep in a semi-public place. I saw Rina was asleep on a couch across the waiting room from me. It was cold, but I wasn’t freezing. I realized I was leaning on someone. I looked up and saw that I'd been sleeping on Aaron. He smiled at me, the full wattage of his grin nearly knocking me back down as I struggled to sit up.

Not just leaning against his arm or shoulder accidentally, as I had half hoped, it turned out I had been curled up against his chest, most of my body flung across his lap, his arm around me. I had slept nestled into his chest, in his arms, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek. My hair seemed to be everywhere, tangled along my neck and face. I moved to push it back. It snagged on something, and I made a noise of dismay, trying to figure out what it was caught on, my sight line obscured by the riot of tangled reddish waves.

“It’s my watch band,” he said, his voice sounding rusty and low. Carefully, deftly, he unwrapped a lock of my hair from where it was caught on the band of its smartwatch.

“Sorry, I think my hair was trying to take over the world,” I said, a little abashed. Successfully disentangled, I managed to push my hair back and bind it with an elastic I had around my wrist. It was lumpy and, I'm sure, a fright, but it was out of my way for the moment. I realized too late that it would’ve been useful to hide behind, because looking in his face, his megawatt grin striking me in the solar plexus like a well-timed kick, was enough to leave me speechless. “I’m sorry I kind of slept all over you. I guess I was really tired.”

“You had an exhausting day. It’s not a problem; you needed your rest,” he said, waving off my apology. As if it were no inconvenience to him to have spent several hours in a freezing cold hospital lounge with an intern sprawled across him, no doubt snoring for hours. He was such a damn gentleman that it made me feel sheepish. Hopelessly gauche and awkward to have pointed out the fact that I had more than likely tossed and turned and drooled on him and clung to him like he was my own personal security blanket.

“I appreciate you staying with me. It was--”

“I’m where I wanted to be,” he said, cutting me off not unkindly. In fact, the generosity and tenderness in his voice and his whole manner was doing things to me, short circuiting my brain entirely.

I stammered. I, who could write a ten-page paper at the drop of a hat, didn’t have the words to say ‘thanks’ to this man. Every syllable I knew had spilled out of my head when he said such wonderful things, like it was no trouble and exactly what he wished to do. If there was a fainting couch handy, I would've dropped right down on it and just let the room spin from the giddy confusion he was plunging me into.

“I’m just glad your dad is going to be okay. I know what it’s like to lose parents, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

He’d said ‘parents’ as if both of his own were gone. I didn’t want to pry, and it wasn’t the time or the place to ask him personal questions. But I made a note to ask about it another time, to learn what had happened to them and how old he’d been. How it changed him then and now. Curiosity was the strangest thing, the way that even the hint of private information about him captured my interest even at a time like this.

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