Wright with Benefits, page 11
“I could walk you instead,” Cord offered.
“Sounds like a good idea,” I agreed.
The Uber zoomed away without another word.
“Ass,” Cord said, kicking his foot out as if he could kick the car.
I giggled, tugging my jacket tighter around me. “We’re all drunk. I’m sure he hates drunk people in his car.”
“Probably.”
I pulled Prisha’s address up on my phone. Taureen was right. It was only a few blocks away. Cord glanced over my shoulder at the map.
“See, not far,” Cord insisted.
“Will you be okay getting back?” I asked him.
He grinned. “I think I can manage.”
We were silent on the walk to the house. As if the dark night had swept in and sucked all the words out from us. Covering us in shadows and sealing us in with the black of night.
The brisk walk cleared my head. Made me look back at the night we’d had. I blinked and cringed. I saw where this walk was heading before we even reached Prisha’s. Knew what was coming next. And felt my feet slowing down, trying to stretch it out so that this didn’t have to happen.
“What?” Cord asked. He slowed next to me. His big blue eyes suddenly concerned.
“It’s just there.” I pointed at the next house. As if it wasn’t already obvious. “I can walk the rest of the way.”
He turned to face me, stopping us both on the sidewalk. He stepped close, running his hand down my sleeve to my hand. Then he took it in his. “You shouldn’t go the rest of the way alone.”
I took my hand back quickly. “It’s fine. Really.”
“I could…come in with you.”
Of course. Of course that was what he was going to say. How could I have been so stupid? I had known where this was going, and at every turn, I hadn’t said no. I hadn’t walked away. I hadn’t discouraged him. And now, we were one house from where I was staying, and I had no backup plan.
I was alone with a relative stranger on a dark street. Cord seemed like a nice guy, but how many nice guys did I know who had done bad things? Wasn’t that what they always said on the news? Oh, he was such a nice guy. I gulped. If I didn’t manage this correctly, I could be in a lot of trouble.
My body shook from the cold and worry.
“I…” I bit my lip and glanced down and then back up into his eyes. Let him see my decision was made. The alcohol had dissipated some. “Thanks, but no. I have an early flight.”
“Annie,” he whispered. He leaned forward as if he was about to kiss me, and I took another step back, putting the distance between us. His face didn’t immediately turn angry but back to concerned. “What is it? Are you seeing someone?”
I hesitated on the question. Was I? Not technically. I’d drawn that line myself. But it didn’t feel right to be here with Cord right now either.
“No,” I finally admitted.
“Then, what?” he asked as if that were the only possible explanation.
“I don’t have to be seeing someone to not want to do this.”
He sighed and nodded his head. “No, you don’t. I just…I thought we had something.” His shoulders slumped. “I had a nice night.” He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I hope you did, too. And that I see you at other interviews…and maybe if we both go to the same place, we can pick this back up.”
Then he turned and walked away.
I released my breath. That could have been very, very bad. I was lucky that Cord wasn’t a predator…and instead just a guy who was into me. And why wouldn’t he be? We’d hung out all day. We’d danced all night. It could have easily gone that direction. Fuck.
I hurried back into Prisha’s house, closing and locking the door up. She and Virginia were fast asleep as I padded into the guest bedroom. I peeled off the clothes I’d worn all day and into nightclothes. Then I crawled into bed, finally feeling safe, and checked my phone.
My stomach dropped when I saw the text message from Jordan.
“Oh fuck,” I whispered.
When I’d pressed J on my phone, it had defaulted to Jordan instead of Jennifer. The picture had been sent to him and not my friend.
I cringed and looked at the image again. The way Cord was leaning into me so casually. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Panic clawed at my throat. I’d drawn the line, but I hadn’t wanted to do this to him. He definitely didn’t deserve it. Even if I was mad at him for pressing for more when I’d told him from the beginning that this was all it was.
His message hung there between us.
Glad you’re having a good time, Annie.
I swallowed and closed my eyes. My stomach was in knots. I was sure that he was thinking the worst of me right now. He had no way of knowing that I’d turned Cord down. That I’d had no interest in him.
I debated what the hell I was doing, but I was still a little drunk. So, I snapped a selfie of me in bed. Alone.
Then I sent it to Jordan on purpose this time.
I miss your stupid face.
Even though it was almost three in the morning, another message dinged on my phone a minute later. A picture of Jordan, shirtless and in bed.
I miss yours, too.
I hugged my phone to my chest with a sigh. And finally got a good night’s sleep.
19
Annie
Despite the texts, I didn’t see Jordan when I got home. I had too much work to do, especially after missing two days for the interview.
I moved back into an emergency medicine rotation, which was my specialty and also meant strange hours. We were supposed to get used to working all potential shifts, which meant all hours of the day. I’d apparently drawn the short straw and started with overnights, getting into the ER at midnight. It was a long night ahead of me, but emergencies never ceased, and the hours rushed by.
It was still two hours until eight, which was when I got off. I knew they were being generous, doing eight-hour shifts with four days on, two days off. In residency, I’d heard horror stories of working thirty-six hours straight and up to a hundred hours a week. But I’d take it for now even if my schedule was all whack with these overnight shifts.
As I finished off my last couple of charts, my mind was still on Jordan. I needed to decide what to do about us. He’d clearly said that he wanted more, and I just…couldn’t give him that. Could I? I’d been avoiding him and relationships more broadly since I started medical school. And with the prospect of leaving Lubbock looking more and more like a for-sure thing, it felt wrong to push forward.
I set my last chart aside just as a new patient was rushed into the hospital.
“Dr. Donoghue,” the attending physician, Dr. Lee, called as the man was wheeled off of the ambulance.
I rushed after him. My mind immediately went blank. Nothing mattered, except what was right in front of me. About saving lives.
Dr. Lee was calmly issuing instructions, and the nurses broke into emergency mode, moving us all in time. The patient was young. He was about my age, not even thirty if I had to guess. The next two words from Dr. Lee nearly stopped me in my tracks—heart attack.
He was too young for that.
But apparently, that didn’t matter.
The next half hour was a blur as we worked diligently to save this young man’s life. We did everything we could, but there was something else wrong with his heart. Even as we physically kept his heart beating, it wouldn’t do it on its own. And then the machine couldn’t do it either. It had all gone catastrophically wrong.
“Call it,” the doctor said, stepping backward.
“Time of death. Six thirty-seven a.m.,” one of the nurses said.
I was still standing over him, prepared to step in. Prepared to get his heart pumping. Prepared to fix it.
But there was no fixing this.
There was nothing to be done.
And he was dead.
Thirty years old, and he was dead.
Dr. Lee put his hand on my shoulder and guided me out of the room. I yanked off my mask with trembling hands, sucking air in deep, barely hearing the doctor say that we needed to speak with his family.
That was part of my job, of course. An essential part of my job. And I was frozen in place. I couldn’t do it. I’d had to tell Sutton. I couldn’t do it this time. Oh God.
“Dr. Donoghue.”
I didn’t respond.
“Annie,” he said more gently, forcing me to look at him. “Is this the first one you’ve lost?”
I nodded even though it felt like a lie. It was the first I’d lost in the ER.
He nodded and patted my shoulder. “I remember my first, too. I’ll speak with the family. You go home.”
“I have another hour and a half.”
“Not anymore you don’t. Go home. Get some sleep.”
“Sir—”
But he was already turning away. Going to tell someone’s family that they no longer had their husband, father, brother, son.
And I was here, still shaking so bad that I couldn’t get my gloves off. I yelled and yanked them off, throwing them in the trash. The shaking had moved from my hands to the rest of my body. I darted for the physicians’ lounge. A few other doctors were in there, but no one looked up when I walked in. I grabbed my stuff out of my locker, shrugged my jacket on, and headed out without a word.
I had no recollection of driving. No idea how I managed it with the way I was feeling. But somehow, I pulled up in front of Jordan’s house.
My bag was still in the back of my car, and I wrenched it out of the backseat before heading for the front door. I rang the doorbell and tried to twist the knob, but the door was locked.
A minute later, Jordan appeared in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. He rubbed his eyes as he opened the door. I must have woken him.
He startled at the sight of me. “Annie?”
“Can we go for that run?”
He opened the door wider to let me inside. “What are you doing awake? It’s…” He checked his watch. “It’s not even seven in the morning.”
“I worked an overnight.”
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping then?”
“Can’t sleep,” I said as I headed for his room, intending to change.
He followed in my wake. “So, you want to run? I thought you didn’t want to run.”
“Changed my mind.”
“Slow down.” He pulled me toward him and looked me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”
I clenched my jaw and slowly shook my head. “Can we run…please?”
“It looks like a storm out there.”
“I don’t care.”
He nodded, seeing that I was telling the truth. “Okay. Okay, let’s run.”
Then he released me tenderly, the look in his eyes one of absolute concern. I hadn’t seen him in over a week, and now I was here, acting like a crazy person. One who couldn’t sleep and was going back on everything I’d said to him. And still, he just stepped aside and found running clothes.
I changed out of my scrubs as quickly as possible, half-considering burning them. The thought of wearing them again made me sick to my stomach. I turned away, so I didn’t have to look at them again. I’d had training for this. Yet nothing could prepare a person to watch someone die especially with what I’d gone through. And every time I closed my eyes, I saw his heart stop and the doctor call it and the world close up.
“Ready?” Jordan asked.
“Sure.”
We took off with Jordan guiding us toward the golf course. Dark clouds loomed in front of us, and the course was empty. No golf carts rushing about the track or tiny balls flying through the air. Just the two of us trekking past the holes and their little flags. Jordan had clearly run this way often, probably got up early enough to miss the morning golfers. That seemed like a respectable thing he’d do.
The farther we ran, the deeper the burn in my legs and lungs and heart. I hadn’t run like this in years. Not unless you counted the occasional soccer game, which I didn’t. Everything hurt, and yet I welcomed it. At least I was feeling that instead of the pain from the hospital.
My breathing was ragged, and soon, I was panting. Jordan shot me a worried look. He wasn’t even breathing hard. In fact, it looked more like he was jogging next to me than running.
Whatever. I wasn’t going to stop. I was just going to keep going.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Arms pumping. Feet pounding the pavement.
Better than anything else. Better than trying to sleep when I was sure that I’d only see the flatline monitor, his chest stop moving, the sound of death.
See Mav falling and not getting up.
Nothing I could have done. Nothing I could do.
Nearly four years of medical school, and Mav would still have died. He still would have died on my table or in my arms or on the pavement.
I jogged to a stop. My heart pounded in my chest. I’d pushed it too far. Just like Mav had that day. I put my hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I could hardly breathe, hardly think. Just memories on repeat, over and over and over.
I was going to be sick.
Oh God.
I turned away from Jordan and threw up everything I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours. I coughed and spat, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Gross,” I groaned.
Jordan reached out and touched my shoulder and then the other one. “You’re shaking.”
“Am I?”
Which was when I realized that I was in fact shaking like a leaf. My body responding involuntarily to the reminder that I’d seen someone die today. That I’d seen someone die…again.
And as that cruel thought split through my head, the universe listened to my mood and escalated the situation.
The skies opened, and suddenly, it was pouring.
Thick sheets of rain that had come completely out of nowhere. The skies had been dark, but it hadn’t even been misting or sprinkling or anything. And now, we were caught in a deluge, still a hundred yards or more from the nearest building.
I tilted my head up to the sky.
And then the tears finally came.
Deep, racking sobs.
And I couldn’t stop it.
I mourned.
20
Jordan
Something in my strong, beautiful girl was broken.
I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that she was crying in the pouring rain. All that mattered was that she was hurting.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t try to get her to talk.
I just stepped forward and drew her into my arms. She held stiff for a moment, her body rigid, her hands covering her face as the tears flowed. But still, I held her.
Then something released, and she threw her arms around my neck, holding me tight and fast against her. She buried her head into my shoulder. The sobs shaking her entire body.
I ran my hand up and down her back, not caring that we were soaked through in seconds. That everything was probably flooding thanks to Lubbock caprock, and getting back to the house was going to. But none of that was important. What was a little rain when Annie was crying?
Then abruptly, she pushed away and stalked across the golf course.
I followed her onto the grass. “Annie!”
“Just let me go, Jordan.”
“No!” I yelled back. “I’m not going to let you go. I’m not going to let you walk off into the grass when you’re not okay.”
She whirled on me. “That’s right. I’m not okay. So, just…let me be.”
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I don’t want to! I don’t want to talk to you or anyone.”
“I can see that, but it’s not healthy.”
She ground her teeth together and paced farther away from me. The rain was coming down harder, beating down on my skin and matting my hair to my face. Then just when I thought I might have to run after her again, she walked back toward me. Her eyes were fiery.
“Just talk to me! What’s the harm in that?” I called over the rain.
“Because then it’s real!” she shouted. And the fire dimmed. “Then, it’s real. Then, someone died and there’s nothing I can do and it’s just over.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Someone died?”
She flung her hands wide. “Yep. I killed him.”
“Annie…you didn’t kill anyone.”
“I might as well have. I was there when he came in with a heart attack. I stood over him as I tried to fix his broken heart, and I couldn’t do anything. What’s the point of this damn degree if I’m going to lose people anyway?”
“You’re saving people,” I insisted, stepping closer. “That’s what makes the difference. Maybe you lost this one person, Annie, but that doesn’t mean it’s all pointless. You’re making a difference in people’s lives.”
“I couldn’t save him then, and I can’t save him now,” she said, still frantic.
I drew a blank. “Couldn’t save who?”
“Maverick!” she yelled as if it were obvious.
Then it all clicked. I’d heard the story about how Sutton’s husband had died. That he’d had a rare heart condition and died on the Fourth of July a few years back. What had they said about Annie?
“You were there.” The pieces fell together. “You were running the same race as him.”
She nodded as the tears started again. “I watched him collapse. I ran the rest of the race to tell Sutton what had happened. I couldn’t do anything to save him.”
“And now, you’re a doctor. You became a doctor to save lives. So you didn’t have to stand on the sidelines anymore.” My heart broke for her. “What happened to Maverick was a terrible accident. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I know,” she said, barely loud enough. Then louder. “I know! But it doesn’t change the fact that it still feels like my goddamn fault!”
I reached for her, and she let me draw her against me again. “It’s not your fault. Not Maverick. Not the person who died today.”
“I know,” she repeated.
