Page 39 of Wright with Benefits

Then he released me tenderly, the look in his eyes one of absolute concern. I hadn’t seen him in over a week, and now I was here, acting like a crazy person. One who couldn’t sleep and was going back on everything I’d said to him. And still, he just stepped aside and found running clothes.

I changed out of my scrubs as quickly as possible, half-considering burning them. The thought of wearing them again made me sick to my stomach. I turned away, so I didn’t have to look at them again. I’d had training for this. Yet nothing could prepare a person to watch someone die especially with what I’d gone through. And every time I closed my eyes, I saw his heart stop and the doctor call it and the world close up.

“Ready?” Jordan asked.

“Sure.”

We took off with Jordan guiding us toward the golf course. Dark clouds loomed in front of us, and the course was empty. No golf carts rushing about the track or tiny balls flying through the air. Just the two of us trekking past the holes and their little flags. Jordan had clearly run this way often, probably got up early enough to miss the morning golfers. That seemed like a respectable thing he’d do.

The farther we ran, the deeper the burn in my legs and lungs and heart. I hadn’t run like this in years. Not unless you counted the occasional soccer game, which I didn’t. Everything hurt, and yet I welcomed it. At least I was feeling that instead of the pain from the hospital.

My breathing was ragged, and soon, I was panting. Jordan shot me a worried look. He wasn’t even breathing hard. In fact, it looked more like he was jogging next to me than running.

Whatever. I wasn’t going to stop. I was just going to keep going.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Arms pumping. Feet pounding the pavement.

Better than anything else. Better than trying to sleep when I was sure that I’d only see the flatline monitor, his chest stop moving, the sound of death.

See Mav falling and not getting up.

Nothing I could have done. Nothing I could do.

Nearly four years of medical school, and Mav would still have died. He still would have died on my table or in my arms or on the pavement.

I jogged to a stop. My heart pounded in my chest. I’d pushed it too far. Just like Mav had that day. I put my hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I could hardly breathe, hardly think. Just memories on repeat, over and over and over.

I was going to be sick.

Oh God.

I turned away from Jordan and threw up everything I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours. I coughed and spat, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Gross,” I groaned.

Jordan reached out and touched my shoulder and then the other one. “You’re shaking.”

“Am I?”

Which was when I realized that I was in fact shaking like a leaf. My body responding involuntarily to the reminder that I’d seen someone die today. That I’d seen someone die…again.

And as that cruel thought split through my head, the universe listened to my mood and escalated the situation.

The skies opened, and suddenly, it was pouring.

Thick sheets of rain that had come completely out of nowhere. The skies had been dark, but it hadn’t even been misting or sprinkling or anything. And now, we were caught in a deluge, still a hundred yards or more from the nearest building.

I tilted my head up to the sky.

And then the tears finally came.

Deep, racking sobs.

And I couldn’t stop it.

I mourned.

20

Jordan

Something in my strong, beautiful girl was broken.

I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that she was crying in the pouring rain. All that mattered was that she was hurting.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t try to get her to talk.

I just stepped forward and drew her into my arms. She held stiff for a moment, her body rigid, her hands covering her face as the tears flowed. But still, I held her.

Then something released, and she threw her arms around my neck, holding me tight and fast against her. She buried her head into my shoulder. The sobs shaking her entire body.

I ran my hand up and down her back, not caring that we were soaked through in seconds. That everything was probably flooding thanks to Lubbock caprock, and getting back to the house was going to. But none of that was important. What was a little rain when Annie was crying?

Then abruptly, she pushed away and stalked across the golf course.

I followed her onto the grass. “Annie!”

“Just let me go, Jordan.”

“No!” I yelled back. “I’m not going to let you go. I’m not going to let you walk off into the grass when you’re not okay.”

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