“As soon as tonight, maybe tomorrow. Take a second pill with dinner, and another with breakfast, and keep taking them until the bottle’s gone, breakfast and dinner, twice per day.”
She paused for a moment and seemed to hang there, suspended between emotions. “And if it doesn’t work?”
Dean softened a bit. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. I won’t give up.”
“Thank you.” She curled up on herself and I stood, shaking my head.
“You’ll be okay.”
“I hope so.”
Dean nodded and inched toward the door. “I’ll check on you tonight, okay? Make sure you’re doing okay.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
He slipped out of her room and lingered in the hall, checking his notes, although I knew he was waiting for me.
“You’ll be okay,” I said again, smiling at her. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah.” She grinned at me and leaned her head back. “I’ll be okay.”
I followed Dean and caught up with him as he started to wander back toward the elevators. “That was quite the show you put on in there. What was with the thumb thing?”
“Muscle weakness is a very rare side effect of hemicrania and I had a feeling she’d present with it.”
“I want to say you’re clever, but I don’t want to stroke your ego.”
“No worries, you don’t need to say a thing for me to be incredibly arrogant.”
I laughed and leaned my shoulder against him briefly. “Seriously, thanks for that.”
“Let me know how she does. I have a feeling she’ll recover just fine though.” He hesitated and turned toward me, head tilted to the side, and I stood close to him, alone in the shadows of the hallway. Somewhere nearby, I heard a monitor beep the rhythm of a heart, and voices echoed down toward us, sounding strangely happy—which wasn’t common in a hospital.
“You seemed sort of uncomfortable back there, you know.”
He laughed. “Crying girls are my Kryptonite.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m not sure how to take that.”
“I never know how to deal with them the right way.” He shrugged. “I’m working on it.”
“Normally, you say nice things.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He reached out and touched my arm and left his hand there, lingering close. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Come over tonight for dinner.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Dinner?”
“We can go over that thing we found. You know, the computer thing.” He leaned closer and whispered. “The USB drive we stole.”
I held up a hand. “Yeah, thanks, I got it the first time.”
He beamed at me. “What do you say?”
“I could eat dinner with you, I guess.”
“Perfect. I’m finished for the day, so I’ll swing by later? When’s your shift end?”
I hesitated and looked away. I didn’t want him to pick me up from the hospital, not because that was strange or because I didn’t appreciate a ride, but because I wanted to go home and shower off the hospital before going to his place. It was an entirely vain reaction and I was almost surprised by it. I shouldn’t have cared if I went to his place in crappy scrubs, still covered in germs and blood, but for some reason I wanted to make a good impression.
“That’s okay, I’ll come to you,” I said. “How’s eight sound?”
“Sounds great. I’ll cook.” He turned and walked to the elevator doors.
“You cook?”
“Damn right I do.” He hit the call button and looked back at me. “You’re in for a treat.”
I shook my head, smiling like an idiot, and awkwardly waved before turning and stalking back to the nurses’ station. I sat down and hunched over the computer for a second, catching my breath and trying to make sense of what I felt back there.
He shouldn’t have been able to make me feel like that. I wanted to resist him, to keep things casual and professional between us—and yet I felt myself slipping down the path toward something more, starting to want to impress him, feeling like I wanted to spend time with him outside of a professional setting.
That was dangerous. I’d spent so much of my adult life, ever since the accident, trying to avoid this sort of thing. I didn’t want entanglements—didn’t want to feel close enough to someone that they might find out about me and realize that I’m broken. I don’t want to lose even more than I’ve already lost, and something can’t be taken away if you never have it to begin with.
I knew how pathetic that was, but I’d gotten this far keeping the world at arm’s length, and I didn’t want to stop now.
And yet I was already planning what I’d wear to his place, unable to help myself.8DeanI texted Fiona my address, hit up the grocery store, and started cooking as soon as I got home. The smell of roasted chicken and vegetables filled my apartment as I hummed along to an old jazz record by Duke Ellington and drank a small glass of whiskey.