“A lot.” I manage a weak laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
He shoots a glance at Jett and fixes me with a stare like he wants to memorize my face. “I do need to be somewhere, but maybe we’ll run into each other again. I’d like to hear about your experience.”
Micah’s obvious sincerity prompts me to say, “Thanks,” which is not a word I use very often. He takes off, leaving me with Jett. Despite, or maybe because of the emotional quagmire Micah’s offer stirs up, I manage to choke out an order that ends with, “... and whatever Damon usually drinks.”
“Depends,” Jett says. “He watches his carbs pretty closely, I think. Most often he just gets a latte, but sometimes he’ll go for a black coffee and a cookie.”
Without trying to figure out the relative nutritional value, I order him a latte. “And a cookie too, I guess. Shoot the moon.”
“He likes these.” Jett points to a tray of peanut butter cookies.
“Do it.”
Carrying a tray with my cappuccino, Geneva’s London Fog, and Damon’s surprise, I head for the ER. The security desk is right out front and thank fuck Damon’s not around. The guard is on the phone, so I set the bev and cookie on the counter and wait.
If I had a pen, I’d write Damon’s name on the bag and take off. The guard is giving me a funny look, which is another reason I want to run, but somewhere Geneva is scowling at me so I stay put. He finally ends the call and gives me a snotty grin. “What can I do for you?”
“These are for Damon.” I’m backing away before the words are out of my mouth.
“Hang on, now, he’s just around the corner flirting with the nurses.” He picks up the phone and hits a button.
I keep walking backward, hands up. “It’s okay, just tell him—”
“Tell him what?” Damon says, poking his head through the double doors that lead into the ER proper.
Pointing at the desk, I hesitate for a couple heartbeats. “I brought you... stuff.”
He narrows his gaze. “Stuff?”
I take another step away from the desk. My mouth is dry as sand. “Jett said you’d like it.”
Coming through the ER doors, he’s somehow bigger than I remember. Broader. Stronger. Thick dark chest hair hidden by polyester.And you could have him in your damn bed again if you weren’t a fucking loser.
“You asked Jett what I’d like?Youdid that?”
“Uh.” I clear my throat. “Geneva told me to.”
He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. “Thank you,” he says finally.
I haven’t stopped inching backward, moving slow so I don’t run into anything. “Anyway, I’ll see you later.”
“Sure.”
I pivot and all but run to the elevator before he can say anything else. Several people are waiting, so I take the stairs instead. I have to take them slower than I’d like or risk spilling the remaining drinks, but I appreciate the privacy. I can’t say that I fixed everything between me and Damon, but I feel lighter than I have since I sent the toxic text.
That lightness lasts until I get to work on Friday and there’s a new body who’s all but wailing with the need to have her sins eaten.
“Fuck me running.”
“What?” Geneva pops out from the OR suite, wearing a hazmat suit, goggles, and gloves.
“You started early.”
“Yeah, last night medics brought in a woman who was found down at home. They admitted her to the ICU, but she expiredthis morning. Dr. Chen wants to do her post as soon as the medical examiner gets here.”
“Just the ME, or are we gonna have cops around, too?”
“As far as I know, just the ME.”
