Page 70 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

Keisha lowers the spoon. “Watches everything?”

I look down at my coffee. “He notices people. Whether Coach has eaten. Whether the rookie who called is upset. Whether the nurses are tired. Whether someone is pretending not to worry.”

“Whether you always miss the same piece of hair when you tuck it back?”

My gaze snaps up. “How do you know about that?”

“I have eyes.”

“He mentioned it once.”

Keisha leans back in her chair. “Did he?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like?”

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Because I don’t know. And that is the problem.

Jamie had been my patient. The lines should have been obvious. Clean. Professional. I checked his vitals, reinforced his instructions and made sure he understood what recovery would demand from him. He argued. I refused to budge. He made jokes when he was afraid. I pretended not to notice when his humor turned into armor.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, the room stopped feeling like a room I visited. It became part of my day.

Keisha’s voice softens. “You liked him.”

I let out a breath. “I respected him.”

“That wasn’t what I said.”

“I know.”

She waits again. I hate that she is so good at silence.

“He’s exhausting,” I say.

“I’ve heard.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“You mentioned that.”

“He never stops asking questions.”

“Also covered.”

I wrap both hands around the coffee cup even though it has already gone lukewarm.

The truth lands quietly between us.

Keisha does not tease me this time. “That makes sense,” she says.

“It shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he was here less than a week.”

“A lot can happen in a week.”