Rebel Heart (Rush Series Duet 2) - Page 55
After I got dressed, I felt better about going back to the waiting room. Only when I walked in, there were three men now waiting—a sleeping Elliott, and my dad and Rush standing and talking.
Rush’s eyes pinned me the minute I approached. “You didn’t mention your dad was coming.”
“I…uh…I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “I would have taken you.”
“I know you would’ve. But you need to stay here. And my dad was off today.”
“Taking care of you takes priority over everything else,” Rush said. He was clearly not happy that I hadn’t discussed it with him.
“Thank you. I know that.”
My father reached out his hand. “Call me if there is anything at all I can do, son. Even if you just want some company while you’re waiting here. I can always swing over on my break or go off the clock for a little while.”
“Thanks, Tony. I appreciate that.”
I stepped forward and gave Rush a hug. Even though he put an arm around me, his body was stiff. “Text me later,” I said. “Let me know how Edward’s doing.”
Rush nodded.
My dad opened the door for me, and I started to walk through, but then stopped and looked back over my shoulder. Rush looked up and our eyes met, but he didn’t say anything or try to stop me from leaving—not that I’d expected him to. But it was a sad reality check. This was what it was going to be like next week: me leaving with Dad, only I’d be leaving the Hamptons then. And when I said goodbye to Rush, it would be permanent.I started to drag by eight o’clock. The Heights was busy, and it was a struggle to keep up. Although I perked up about ten minutes ago when Rush finally walked in. He looked haggard, still in the same clothes he wore when we’d left for the City yesterday. I assumed he had spent the rest of the day at the hospital and come directly to work. I’d texted him earlier in the day to let him know everything went okay at my doctor’s appointment and asked how things were going at the hospital. His response was short. ‘Haven’t killed the asshole yet. So that’s a plus.’
It took until almost nine-thirty for the dinner rush to have a lull long enough for me to pop into the boss’s office. I knocked on the open door. “Hey. How are you?”
“Holding up. You?”
“I’m good.”
“No fight with Elliott?”
“No, but he did get a black eye.”
“How?”
“The asshole fell off the chair he was passed out on in the waiting room. Landed right on his face. It was the highlight of my day.”
I smiled. “How’s Edward?”
“Doctors said he’s doing really well. They’re going to try to bring him out of the coma in a few days.”
“That’s great.”
Rush nodded and picked up a pile of papers. He turned to dump them in the file cabinet behind him while speaking. “How was your day with your dad?”
“It was good, actually. Since we had a little time, we stopped by my apartment so he could help me move around some furniture. I’ve been ordering stuff for the baby and needed to make some room.”
Rush froze. He stayed with his back to me for a minute before turning around. When he did, he leveled me with an intense stare. “So I guess you’re all set, then. To move back.”
I looked down. “Yeah. I’m getting there.”
When I looked up, Rush was still glaring at me. “I’m happy for you.” He grabbed a file from his desk and spoke while looking at it. “Did you need anything else? I have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“Oh. No. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
Somehow, I managed to put one foot in front of the other and shut Rush’s office door behind me. But I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to put the man behind me when I walked out that door next week.I was tired.
Damn tired.
Between trekking back and forth from the hospital to the Hamptons and Gia’s looming departure, my head was just constantly spinning.
My father was finally taken out of his coma, which was a relief. It was still going to be a long road to recovery, one that wasn’t made any easier by Elliott’s asinine behavior lately. Not that he wasn’t always an ass, but he’d taken it to a whole new level in recent months. It seemed like he was going off the deep end.
Driving home from the City, I had to curb the urge to pull over and buy cigarettes about a dozen times. Every time I wanted to stop, I’d force myself to think about this commercial that used to come on when I was a kid. It had always scared the shit out of me. The man on the screen spoke with a hole in his throat, warning against smoking. Then, at the end, you’d see the guy had died. So I would force myself to think about that commercial every time I almost gave in. It seemed to be working. I’d gone this long without caving. Hopefully, I could keep it up.
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