“Okay.” I grab the empty glass from Caleb’s limp hand and rush back to the kitchen, filling it up again. “Hurry!”
“I will. See you soon.”
I set my phone on the coffee table, kneeling in front of Caleb again.
“Hey,” I whisper, forcing the glass into his fingers. “Drink some more water. It’ll help you feel better.”
I place my hand on his upper back, helping him lean forward. My other hand helps steer the cup to his mouth. My eyes drift while he gulps, noticing the perfect little crunch of muscles his position creates out of his six-pack. I jerk my eyes away.
Not the time to be noticing that. Geez, Summer!
And for the record, I didn’t notice his abs in an appraising way. More like a factual way. It’s factually true that Caleb has a six-pack. I could say the same thing about the steroid man at the gym who wears shorts that are a little too short in my opinion.
I wait until he’s finished drinking before looking back. “I’ll get you some more.” I move to stand, but he grabs my arm.
“No, I need a break.” His eyes close again.
I study Caleb in a very nurse-patient way. I’m on call, and Justin’s brother isn’t dying on my watch. Because of that, I don’t feel like I can move from his side. I also don’t feel like I can scroll Instagram while I wait the half-hour to see if he dies—doesn’t seem ethical.
So I sit, resting my forehead in my arms as I listen to him breathe.
“Summer?” It’s been about forty minutes since Caleb has moved.
“What do you need?” My head pops up. I’m on high alert. “Do you want more water?”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Oh.” I sit up. “Okay, well.” I look at his body, trying to figure out how I’m going to get him to the restroom. “Let’s get you up.”
I grab his hand, lifting him to his feet. He’s a little unsteady until he slings his arm around my shoulder for support. I wrap my arm around his waist, telling myself the entire time that holding his bare hip is no big deal.
I’m in my nurse era—something I never thought I’d say.
We walk into the bathroom together, and I stand by his side, supporting his body. I turn my head, averting my eyes so he can take care of business.
“Are you planning on staying?”
I peek back at him, seeing the most amused smile I’ve ever seen on a sick man. I guess that’s a good sign for his health. “Oh, no. Sorry!” I wiggle away from Caleb while turning fifty shades of red. I walk backward, shifting my eyes around the tiny bathroom so I don’t have to look at his amused face. “Looks like you have everything under control here, so”—I point behind me—“I’ll just be out in the family room if you need me.” I pull the bathroom door shut as I exit, scurrying down the hall, cringing at how cringy I am.
I drop into a chair, letting my head fall into my hands.
On a scale of one to sucky, this night sucks.
And where the heck is Justin? I glance at the clock. It’s been forty-five minutes since we spoke, and he’s still not home. Not to mention the fact that my burrito is now cold. But at least my patient isn’t dead. No, he’s coherent enough to realize he doesn’t want me standing beside him while he pees.
I hear the toilet flush and the sink turn on, but I stay put. I don’t care if Caleb falls flat on his face from trying to walk back out here. I’m not entering that bathroom for anything.
The door opens, and slow footsteps creek down the hall. I turn my head, watching as he uses the furniture as support on his way back to the couch. I could help. I really could. But I keep my hands clasped together in my lap. The bathroom mishap was the end of my nurse era.
Caleb flops his body back on the couch, looking over at me.
“Hi.” He smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes me think he’s a little more with it than he was before.
“Hi.” I nervously glance around before swinging my eyes back to him.
“Sorry about all this.”
“Oh, it’s no problem.” I swat the air in front of me.
