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She whirled on me. “That’s right. I’m not okay. So, just…let me be.”
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
“I don’t want to! I don’t want to talk to you or anyone.”
“I can see that, but it’s not healthy.”
She ground her teeth together and paced farther away from me. The rain was coming down harder, beating down on my skin and matting my hair to my face. Then just when I thought I might have to run after her again, she walked back toward me. Her eyes were fiery.
“Just talk to me! What’s the harm in that?” I called over the rain.
“Because then it’s real!” she shouted. And the fire dimmed. “Then, it’s real. Then, someone died and there’s nothing I can do and it’s just over.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Someone died?”
She flung her hands wide. “Yep. I killed him.”
“Annie…you didn’t kill anyone.”
“I might as well have. I was there when he came in with a heart attack. I stood over him as I tried to fix his broken heart, and I couldn’t do anything. What’s the point of this damn degree if I’m going to lose people anyway?”
“You’re saving people,” I insisted, stepping closer. “That’s what makes the difference. Maybe you lost this one person, Annie, but that doesn’t mean it’s all pointless. You’re making a difference in people’s lives.”
“I couldn’t save him then, and I can’t save him now,” she said, still frantic.
I drew a blank. “Couldn’t save who?”
“Maverick!” she yelled as if it were obvious.
Then it all clicked. I’d heard the story about how Sutton’s husband had died. That he’d had a rare heart condition and died on the Fourth of July a few years back. What had they said about Annie?
“You were there.” The pieces fell together. “You were running the same race as him.”
She nodded as the tears started again. “I watched him collapse. I ran the rest of the race to tell Sutton what had happened. I couldn’t do anything to save him.”
“And now, you’re a doctor. You became a doctor to save lives. So you didn’t have to stand on the sidelines anymore.” My heart broke for her. “What happened to Maverick was a terrible accident. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I know,” she said, barely loud enough. Then louder. “I know! But it doesn’t change the fact that it still feels like my goddamn fault!”
I reached for her, and she let me draw her against me again. “It’s not your fault. Not Maverick. Not the person who died today.”
“I know,” she repeated.
She cried into my shoulder and didn’t fight my hold on her as all of her grief finally released her.
When she finally stopped crying, we jogged to the country club and stepped into the lobby. We were drowned rats, but the staff hurriedly brought over towels and blankets to dry us off.
Annie took a seat next to the fireplace and stared off into it like it had the answers to the universe. I left her there, only coming to her side to pass her tea. The last thing I wanted was for her to get sick. She was dealing with enough.
Twenty minutes later, the rain finally let up, and the country club staff offered to drive us to my house in a golf cart. It was a quick drive back, and after I got Annie inside, I came outside with a hefty tip for everyone involved. The college student looked like she was going to fall over as she thanked me profusely.
I waved her off and then came back inside to find Annie staring blankly around the house.
“Come on,” I said gently.
After stripping us both out of our sodden clothes, I directed her into a steamy shower, washing her clean of the hospital and rain and the entire day. She tipped her head back into the spray and sighed. Some of the heartache seemed to loosen from her shoulders. When we stepped out, I bundled her in fluffy white towels and got her into bed.
“Jordan,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” I asked as she finally lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Of course.”
I bent down and kissed her forehead. She was out almost instantly, and I hoped she stayed that way for a while. She needed a solid eight or nine hours of sleep to feel even partially human after this.
I changed into jeans and a sweater and then headed down the hall to my at-home office. Though I practically lived at the office, I liked having an office in my house for emergencies. Like right now. Usually, I used it for late-night working or weekends.
When I reached the office, sinking into the black leather chair I loved, I called Morgan.
“Jordan, how can I help you?”
“I’m not coming in today.”
Morgan was silent for a minute. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Sick? Bleeding out?”
