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Sharing Silence

Page 8

by Kayla Kyng

“Well, you know I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he says. “Or if you want me to act it out.”

He grins, and I laugh. “Asshole.”

“It’d be the brotherly thing to do. Also, paper?” He holds the list up to me and stands. “Send an email, old man.”

As he leaves, I call out after him, “I’m only eight minutes older than you!”

Once the office door is closed, Bullet slinks over to my side and rests his chin on my lap. I stroke his head and stare at the wedding photo on my desk—Silence in a glittering dress, heels abandoned, a two-dollar veil shoved into her dark blonde hair. Her brown eyes are lit up with excitement, and we’re both extraordinarily drunk, but also so damn happy. Off to the side, Elvis is singing into a microphone, shedding tears for what he described as “the most beautiful couple” he’d ever married.

My love for her is burrowed into my bones, something I couldn’t be rid of if I wanted to.

But that doesn’t mean we won’t make mistakes.

Was mentioning the dream one of those? Am I opening a door I’ll one day want to slam closed? It doesn’t feel that way right now, but …

Complications rarely make themselves known until it’s too damn late.

Chapter 3

Silence

I’m accosted the moment I step out of the bathroom.

“Silence, bay four is shouting. What do I do?” The new nurse, Amelia, gapes up at me, eyes wide, hair wild. This is her second shift, and she’ll be a great nurse one day, but Christmas at the ER is being thrown in at the deep end. Holiday parties, toy shopping, more alcohol than the human body can handle—and these are all the self-inflicted injuries. The poor weather equals low visibility on the roads, and people visiting relatives means there are more people behind the wheel, most unprepared for heavy rainfall.

“Why is he shouting?” I ask, heading back to the ward. That bathroom break was the first I’ve had in five hours and will be the last before I go home, and now I wish I’d hidden a little longer.

“I don’t know, he⁠—”

“Silence,” Steffi calls from the nurse’s station. “Who touched my board?”

“I’ve been in the bathroom,” I say as I beeline for bay four.

My friend gestures at the whiteboard and the patients’ names scribbled across it. “It’s a mess!”

The thrum of the ER is one I’m used to. I know its rhythm, even when it tries to throw me off. The sights, the smells, the sounds—it’s a road I’ve travelled down a thousand times.

Which means I also know if someone messed with Steffi’s board, it’s best to steer clear.

I draw back the curtain for bay four, Amelia hot on my heels. “What’s up, Mr. Hendricks?”

The businessman sits forward, wrinkles deepening as he frowns. “I’ve been waiting for two hours. Look at my leg!”

“I understand, Mr. Hendricks, but there are other patients who⁠—”

“I pay my healthcare like every fucker else!”

I put my hands on my hips. “Yes, you do, sir, but as you were brought in, a woman arrived with a steering wheel lodged in her chest. She probably takes priority over the fork in your leg, don’t you think?” His mouth opens and closes, and I give him a thumbs-up. “Glad you agree. Don’t yell at my staff.”

I close the curtain, and Amelia catches up to me. “What steering-wheel woman?”

“She doesn’t exist in this hospital.” I reach the nurse’s station. “Can we get bay four looked at before he starts threatening to sue?”

Steffi balances the phone between her shoulder and ear. “Who?”

“Fork-leg guy.”

Steffi nods before speaking into the phone and hanging up. “Three incoming, car accident.” She glances behind me and cheers. “Dr. Do-It-All!”