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“This was obviously before we met.” She glanced over her shoulder and I closed my eyes. She’d heard it all.
I nodded in confirmation.
“Then hold me.” I slowly wrapped my arms around her, pulling her back against my chest. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t pull away.
She was silent for several moments. Seconds had never passed by so slowly. She breathed in, and then said the best thing I’d ever heard.
“I love you.”
I pressed my forehead against her back. “I love you, too.”
“We should probably talk about it … when you’re ready.”
I nodded. “I’m ready.” I took a deep breath. “Her name was Brooke. A buddy from high school named Daniel introduced me to her one night at a party the summer after we graduated. Daniel went to an alternative school. He’d been held back twice, barely graduated, already had a kid somewhere—bad news all around. Brooke was Daniel’s tutor through most of that. She’d just finished her freshman year of college, so of course I thought I was hot shit when she started flirting with me.
“Daniel broke it to me that she was pregnant a month later.” I breathed out a laugh, still in disbelief. “We’d only spoken once since that night. Neither of us was interested in a relationship, but suddenly, we were attached for life. I never pressured her to get rid of it. I never even brought it up.”
Avery tightened my arms around her.
“I was a scared kid, sure, but never once did I try to sway her one way or the other. Daniel was dying to swoop in and be her savior, constantly offering his shoulder to cry on. I went to her first appointment, and then … I freaked. I needed space. She wanted me to be her rock, but I didn’t know how. We got into a huge fight. We both said things we didn’t mean. I left town for one night and turned off my phone.
“When I turned it on the next morning, she’d left me a message. She was going to a clinic. I tried to call her. I called her a dozen times, but she wouldn’t … she wouldn’t fucking answer,” I said, feeling suffocated by the memory. “I got stuck in traffic, and by the time I got there, she’d … she … it was over. It was done. She never spoke to me again.”
The room was so quiet it hurt.
“Avery?”
“I love you.”
My breathing faltered and my eyes burned. “There’s more.”
“I’ll still love you.”
I gritted my teeth, trying not to break down, and then told her everything about the day Kayla died, and everything after.
I spoke about my childhood and college and everything in between. Avery listened and loved me through it all. I talked until my voice felt like sandpaper, until I fell asleep with her in my arms.
When I woke, my hand roamed over cold, bare sheets. My heart sank at the sudden realization that I was alone.
Tossing off the comforter, I pulled on my jeans, tugging my shirt over my head. I nearly tripped while slipping on my sneakers. My legs wouldn’t move fast enough as I tried to hurry from my room. Once I reached the living room, I froze at the sound of Avery’s voice.
She hadn’t left me. I spun around to see Avery and my mother sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chatting.
“Morning,” Avery called out to me. She pulled one of her knees to her chest before taking a sip from her mug. “I made coffee.”
I rubbed my hand hard against the back of my neck, struggling to process what was happening. Not only had Avery stayed, but she seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with my mother.
Walking across the room, I bent down and pressed my lips against her forehead, letting them linger for an extra second.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Better.” Her sweet smile put me more at ease.
I stood, glancing over at Mom. She looked everywhere but at me, trying to avoid eye contact. It was nice to know she hadn’t lost her conscience.
Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, I filled it with steaming coffee and sat next to Avery. She explained to my mother what she did for a living. As Avery described nursing school and her shifts in the ER, Mom listened intently and seemed to actually enjoy it.
It was hard to pay attention to their words as I watched Avery in awe, wondering what I had done to deserve someone so understanding.
We would be different on the way home … our home. The next step was to ask her to marry me. I just had to restrain myself from proposing the second we walked in the door.
An hour had passed since Quinn had radioed ahead that they were bringing a teenage boy in critical condition to St. Ann’s. When the ambulance arrived, Quinn and Deb pushed the stretcher through the ambulance bay doors. Josh was straddling the patient on the stretcher, chanting numbers as he counted chest compressions. I helped Deb with vitals as Dr. Rosenberg rushed in.
Forty minutes after the patient arrived, I reached up and grazed a cloth across Josh’s sweaty brow, noticing the green and red decorations on the ceiling.
“You need another break?” I asked, tending to the head wound.
Josh shook his head.
“You’ve only had one,” I said with labored breathing. Sweat had glued my bangs to my face, and the room was buzzing with organized chaos.
Josh refused to give up, still on the stretcher, using his entire upper body to help his arms ward off muscle fatigue.
“He’s gone,” Dr. Rosenberg said. “I’m calling it.”
“No, he’s not!” Josh said, continuing.
The ECG picked up a single sinus rhythm, and then another peak blinked on the monitor. Everyone froze.
