“Hey,” Justine said in a rush over the phone. “Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to plan Thanksgiving with you.”
He paused the commercial, slumping back into the couch. “Yeah, of course.”
“Are you working that day?”
“Yeah, of course,” he repeated with a slight tease.
She sighed, “Right. Well, maybe next weekend then, instead?”
“Sure, sounds good.”
“Your place?”
He paused. He had never hosted in his new home since his divorce—granted, he’d been living in it for over two years now and hadn’t done much to it other than the backyard and the living room. His place was bare and needed life.
“With the kids, our house is a mess, and I don’t have the energy to clean…”
“Absolutely,” he replied, cutting her off. “I’ll host, don’t worry about it.”
“Really?” She asked, unable to hold back the excitement in her tone.
“Really.”
“So… how’re things?” Justine hinted, changing the topic.
He glanced at the paused image of Wyatt, smiling beneath his black hat, sweat glistening off his perfectly tanned skin. “I’m all right.”
“Johnny.”
He leaned forward, pinching the brim of his nose, “Okay. Yeah, I’m not all right.”
“Spill, now.”
“I think…” His throat closed, and he nearly groaned. “I think I’m in love.”
“You sound like you’re being tortured!”
He chuckled, the tension easing from his chest. “It feels like it.”
“How come?” she asked compassionately.
“Because… fuck, there are so many reasons I shouldn’t be with him. He works under me—he could lose his position at the hospital, so could I. He might have to repeat his last year of residency. I might have to…”
Stop working in the ED.
The thought gave him pause, and he waited for the anxiety, the remorse of not being the attending at his hospital anymore. But nothing came. He was more concerned about Wyatt’s future than his own.
“That’sifthe hospital finds out, right?” Justine asked.
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Big if.”
“I know.”
“What about him?”
“Whatabouthim?” John asked slowly.
