Chased

by Hazel James

We continue taking turns with chest compressions for another fifteen minutes. Dr. Williams orders a FAST ultrasound, which confirms our worst fears.

  No cardiac movement.

  “Does anyone else have any ideas?” Dr. Williams asks. His voice catches on the last word. We all glance around the room at each other knowing we’ve tried everything we can think of.

  “Okay.” He blows out a breath and pulls off his gloves. “Time of death, three forty-three a.m.”

  I strip off my trauma gear and dash toward the restroom across the hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tatiana at the sink. I rush past her into the closest stall and empty my stomach. After the nausea passes, I reach for the cold metal handle, flush the toilet, and steel my emotions so I can get back to work.

  There will be plenty of time for tears after my shift is over.

  I’m not exactly sure how I got through the rest of the night—or the drive home, for that matter. I skipped stopping by the gym; I’ll do that tomorrow instead. All I want to do is take a hot shower, go to bed, and stay there for the rest of the day.

  I need to tell DH I’m taking a raincheck for tonight. That’s probably for the better anyway. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m attracted to him. Any red-blooded human, female or not, would feel the same way. But now that I’m engaged, I need to be mindful of who I hang out with. The only problem is, I have no way of contacting him. My only hope is Allison, but I’m not sure if she’s even here. I cross the living room and knock quietly on her door. She doesn’t answer, so I knock louder.

  “That better be the fire department telling me the house is on fire,” she calls through the door.

  I turn the knob and enter her room. “Not quite, but I do have an emergency.”

  “What?” Ali springs into a sitting position and rips her fuzzy pink eye mask from her face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She eyes me up and down looking for obvious signs of my distress.

  “I’m fine. But I need DH’s number.”

  Ali’s eyes narrow to slits. “Why are you asking for DH’s number? Especially at—” she glances at her wrist, “eight-fifteen in the morning?”

  I shuffle my feet back and forth. Me asking for his number looks bad no matter how you slice it. And this is exactly why I need to take a permanent raincheck. I’m standing inside Ali’s doorway feeling guilty when I haven’t done anything wrong. “I was supposed to hang out with him later, but I had a really shitty night at work and I need to cancel. I don’t have his number though.”

  “You were going to hang out with DH?”

  “Yeah. We were supposed to play putt-putt.”

  “DH doesn’t play putt-putt.” Allison crosses her arms and continues to stare at me through narrowed eyes.

  All I can come back with is, “It was his idea.” Jesus, I sound pathetic. Like a lying, cheating, pathetic person. I finger my engagement ring and continue. “I swear it was a friends-only thing, Ali. But none of that even matters since I’m not going.”

  She holds her gaze for another few seconds, then reaches for her phone on the nightstand and reads off his number. I punch the digits into my phone so I can text him.

  “Thank you. I’ll let you get back to sleep.” I turn to leave her room when she calls my name.

  “You okay? You look really upset.” Her stern expression from a few moments ago has been replaced with concern.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, it was just a shitty night at work.”

  “You want to talk about it?” She pats the bed beside her. I could sit down and spill all the details about Cooper, but it’s still too raw. He’s the youngest patient I’ve ever lost. I know I need to get used to stuff like this, but right now I’m not sure how.

  “I appreciate it, but no. I’m just going to take a shower and hit the sack.” I’ll call Chad later, after he gets out of class. Hopefully I’ll be in a better mood by then.

  “Okay. I’m here if you change your mind.”

  I nod and shut her door, then grab some cherry limeade from the fridge on the way to my room. I turn on the shower in the master bathroom and deposit my dirty scrubs in the laundry basket, then pick up my phone and pull up DH’s name. I’m about four words in when it hits me that I’m naked.

  Christ, I can’t text DH naked! His radar will probably go off, and he’ll know what I did. I retrieve my towel from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and wrap it around myself long enough to tell him I’m cancelling. The day is young, so I have full confidence he’ll find someone to take my place. I toss my phone on my bed and step into the steaming shower ignoring the pang of jealousy at the thought of DH being with another woman tonight.

  I jolt awake, nearly falling off the couch. I slept in my bed until three something this afternoon, when I came into the living room to read. I must have fallen asleep again. I glance at my phone and see that it’s just past six-thirty. There’s also a message from Ali on my home screen telling me she’s staying at her boyfriend’s tonight. I sit up and stretch when I hear a loud knocking from the front door.

  “Ali, is that you? Did you change your mind and forget your key?” I unlatch the deadbolt and swing the door open. DH is standing on the porch holding several bags and a drink carrier. Several seconds pass before my brain comes up with something to say.

  “Did you not get my text this morning?” My traitorous nipples pebble with delight at the sight of his snug jeans and V-neck red shirt. I cross my arms, all too aware of the fact that I’m braless in my threadbare Luke Bryan shirt. The last thing I want to do is give DH any sign that I’m attracted to him, and it’s about forty degrees too warm to blame it on the temperature.

  “I got your text.” He pushes past me and sets the bags on the kitchen counter, then returns to the front door and nudges it closed. He goes back to the bags while I stand dumbfounded in the tiny foyer.

  “I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought a little bit of everything.” He unpacks a bunch of to-go containers and pulls two Sonic drinks from the cardboard drink carrier. I take a few hesitant steps toward him and my mouth waters. I’m choosing to believe it has nothing to do with him, and instead is a purely physical response to the aromas wafting from the containers.

  “What did you bring?”

  “Tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and quesadillas.” He points to each carton as he goes.

  “What if I don’t like Mexican food?”

  He puts his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side, assessing me. “Then I just don’t think we can be friends.” My stomach growls loudly, probably because I haven’t had anything to eat since dinner yesterday. “It sounds like you’re good with Mexican, though.” He winks and rummages through the cabinets until he finds the plates.

  “What’s in the last carton?” I point to the one he didn’t mention.

  “The best queso you’ll ever have. Nobody does queso like Chelino’s.”

  “And what’s in the bag over there?”

  “That’s for later. First, we eat.” He brings our plates to the dinette and comes back for the drinks. “This is the part where you say, ‘Thank you, DH, for bringing me amazing food and even better company. Oh. And a cherry limeade.’”

  I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. “You brought me a cherry limeade? How’d you know I even like those?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “That’s what you ordered when we were at Sonic.”

  And he remembered that? Either this guy has a photographic memory, or… I don’t know. What I do know is that I need a bra before I can sit in close proximity to him. I excuse myself and put on my most granny-looking bra, a silent warning to my nipples that they better behave themselves. I can’t exactly kick DH out—that would be rude. But as soon as we’re done eating, he’s leaving and I’m calling Chad.

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting at the table wondering what in the hell DH is even doing at my house. “If you got my text, why are you still here?” He douses his burrito in salsa while I take my first bite, working hard at
containing my moan. Holy shit, it’s like a party in my mouth.

  “I didn’t think a shitty night at work was a good enough reason to not hang out with you.”

  I nearly choke on my taco while my heart flub-dubs its way into arrhythmia. Not a good enough reason. What does that even mean? I take a sip of my cherry limeade and will my food to go down properly while I think of Chad. Chad, Chad, Chad. “Well, you went through a lot of trouble to hang out with a girl who’s happily engaged to another man.” I need to remind DH that I’m not one of his women of debauchery. His eyes flash with heat for a brief moment, and I feel my nipples trying to respond under a layer of dingy, holy cotton before they give up. Saved by the granny bra.

  “It’s not like that. I planned on taking you to Chelino’s before we went putt-putting, and eating by myself gets old after a while. So, problem solved.” He’s right about the eating alone thing. Allison’s not home much on her off nights. It’s nice to have company, even if it’s with DH.

  “Thank you. This is delicious,” I say between bites. He’s also right about the queso. The fact that I’m not eating alone is the only thing preventing me from dumping it all over my food and licking the container.

  “So what happened at work last night?” he asks, dumping salsa onto his taco.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Was it that douchey doctor who fixed my arm? Did he say something to you?”

  “No, Dr. Williams was on shift.” And thank God for that. I can’t even imagine Dr. Spencer being the one in the room. The very thought makes me shudder. I look up at DH and see him loosen his death grip on his fork.

  “Well that’s good. I’m sorry you had a bad night, though. I’ve had my share of those in Afghanistan.”

  I lean back in my chair, much more relaxed now that DH has changed the subject. “You talked a little bit about that during Career Day. What made you enlist in the Air Force?”

  He rubs his beard in thought. “Uncle Kurt and Aunt Helen, I suppose. I moved in with them when I was thirteen, and they’re the sole reason I didn’t turn out like my parents.”

  “What happened to your parents?” I stab the last bite of my enchilada and push my plate back with a content sigh.

  “Drugs. Prostitution. Burglary. Pretty much anything that involved not taking care of me.”

  “Oh my God, that’s horrible!” Instinctively, I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. It’s something I’ve done hundreds of times with patients, but none of them have made my breath pick up or my heartrate spike on contact. That night in the pool with DH? Yeah. I nearly imploded. I remove my hand and lean back, putting some much-needed space between us.

  “It’s okay, really. All the good that happened when I moved in with them makes all the bad shit worth it. That’s how I started chasing storms, and I loved the excitement that went along with it. When the Air Force recruiter came to my high school during my senior year, I figured that was my best shot at making something of myself and putting as much distance between me and my parents as possible. And I figured being a PJ would help charm the ladies.” His dimples peek out over his beard, and I can’t help but shake my head and smile back.

  “Ah, the truth shall set you free.”

  “Well, it worked. Going through the Pipeline was the hardest thing I’d ever done up until that point.”

  “Pipeline? Is that a surfer school or something?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s the course you have to pass to become a PJ. Only ten to fifteen percent of the guys make it. I was hell-bent on not turning into my father, so that kept me going. When I deployed, I finally felt like I mattered. Like I had something to offer someone else. The first time I saved someone’s life was better than anything I’d ever experienced.”

  I lean forward in my chair, drawn in to his story. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s the best feeling in the whole world.” With DH’s near-constant innuendos, it’s easy to forget that he has years of medical training and experience under his belt. I’ve tried explaining things about work to Chad, but he’s never been able to understand and usually just smiles and nods. It’s nice to talk to someone who truly gets it.

  “But the first time I lost an American soldier…” He blows out a breath and rubs his forehead. “That was tough. I didn’t sleep for a few nights. Kept going over things in my head, wondering if there was something else I could have done or should have done. I know we’re supposed to treat all patients the same, but we always went the extra mile when it was an American.”

  “I lost a kid last night,” I say quietly. “He was only a year old.” My words surprise me. I didn’t expect to bring up Cooper, especially this soon after his accident, but hearing that DH knows what it feels like makes it easier to talk about it. This time, he leans forward and comforts me. The weight of his hand over mine is calming, and I gather the strength I need to tell him the rest of the story. By the time I’m done, the tears I thought I’d cried out this morning in the shower are back in full force. He stands up and comes to my side of the tiny table, pulling me into his arms while I exorcise the rest of my guilt and grief.

  Once I’m certain the sobs have stopped, I pull away from his chest, wipe my face, and cringe. “Shit, I got your shirt all wet. I’m sorry.”

  “It’ll dry,” he says dismissively. “Are you okay?” His chocolate eyes search mine while he wipes my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. My face feels like it was made to fit inside his hands. In this moment, I wish more than anything that I could lean into them and savor his touch.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” I break away and reach for our plates, needing something to busy myself with that doesn’t involve physical contact. “I didn’t mean to blubber all over you and ruin your night. Next time, I promise to be tear-free,” I joke, rinsing our dishes in the kitchen sink. Except there won’t be a next time, because I shouldn’t be alone with DH. I focus on rinsing every speck of food from our plates, then rinse them again for good measure.

  DH grabs our empty Sonic cups and brings them to the sink, caging me with his arms while he pops the tops and empties the ice into the drain. If I leaned back a few inches, I’d be pressed up against his hard body again. I’ve never had to fight my core muscles this much in my life. When he walks the Styrofoam cups to the trash can, my back feels cold and exposed, and a quiet whimper slips past my lips.

  No, no, no, no.

  I turn off the water and dry my hands on a towel beside the sink, knowing exactly what I need to do. “Thanks for bringing food over, and for being a shoulder to cry on. Literally.” I walk to the front door and open it so I can show him out like a proper guest.

  “You’re kicking me out?” Those fucking dimples are back, mocking me from across the kitchen.

  “You brought food over, and we ate. I thought that completed the night’s activities?”

  “I still haven’t shown you what’s in door number three.” He winks and points to a white plastic bag on the counter.

  I narrow my eyes. “What’s in the last bag?”

  DH struts toward me and, for the second time this evening, shuts the front door.

  “I’ll only tell you on one condition.” He’s inches away from me again. I look completely unsexy with my hobo clothes and splotchy face, but my heart doesn’t give a shit because it’s beating like a jackhammer on meth.

  “And that is?”

  “We do whatever’s in the bag. All of it. Even if it takes all night.”

  Fuck.

  I might regret this.

  Fuck.

  Now I know what Pandora felt like.

  Fuck.

  I’m not ready for this evening to end.

  “Fine.”

  DH RETURNS TO THE COUNTER, reaches in the bag, and pulls out a box of microwave popcorn and The Wizard of Oz on DVD. I stare at him for about three seconds before doubling over in a fit of giggles. Of all the things I imagined, I never expected this. Who knew he could be so… rated G?

&n
bsp; “Is this part of your M.O.? Showing up at girls’ houses with popcorn and a kid’s movie?” I ask when I finally catch my breath.

  “Hey little girl, want some candy?” he replies in his best child abductor voice.

  I flash my engagement ring. “You better keep your candy to yourself, DH. I’m on a diet, remember?” Speaking of diets, I really need to stop by that gym tomorrow. I must have eaten about two days’ worth of calories in Chelino’s takeout tonight. I should feel bad about that, but it’s the best food I’ve had since… well, since Maggie’s house.

  “Why don’t you start the movie while I make the popcorn?” he suggests.

  I grab the DVD and take two steps toward the living room when I remember that Allison’s four-year-old brother, Tyler, tried to watch Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs last week by putting spaghetti in the DVD player. He gets bonus points for creativity, but that doesn’t help the situation right now. I huff out a breath and turn back to DH.

  “There’s just one problem. The only working DVD player in the house is in my room.”

  “I don’t consider that a problem at all.” He arcs an eyebrow and smirks.

  “You wouldn’t,” I mutter, glancing toward my bedroom. It can’t be that hard to unplug a DVD player and hook it up to the living room TV, right? “Be right back,” I say over my shoulder.

  Several minutes later, I admit my defeat. Allison’s dad has an ungodly amount of cable ties and cord protectors running between the TV and DVD player, and I’d be here all night trying to undo this clusterfuck. I groan in frustration, then scan my room as I move onto plan B.

  “You okay in there?” DH calls from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, be there in a sec!” I grab the small pile of clean laundry from my bed and dump it into the closet, along with a few pairs of Danskos and some scrubs that I left on the floor. The rest of my room is fairly clean. The only embarrassing thing I have is my vibrator, which is out of sight in the shower.

  Unless DH tries to use my bathroom. God knows that’s a conversation I never want to have with him. My cheeks redden at the thought, so I stash the Pink Stallion in my nightstand for safekeeping.