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He ran his hand over his face. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“But we’re friends, right?” She put him on the spot, knew she was putting him on the spot, and didn’t care. She didn’t want to be alone.
She wanted him.
“I’m trying, Chelsea.”
“Trying to be my friend?”
He hesitated, then surprised her with his blunt honesty. “Trying to just be your friend and not want more. Lots more.”
Telling him she wanted him to be more played on the tip of her tongue. The only thing staying her was the all-too-real fear of him going back to avoiding her. She couldn’t bear losing his friendship if she slipped up.
“What do you want?” she asked, fighting the longing to beg him not to leave her alone, that she’d been alone too long, and tonight she just wanted someone to hold her close.
“To go home, get some sleep, and hope tomorrow is a better day.”
Jared went home, but the next day wasn’t a better one. Neither was the following Monday. The office staff juggled the appointment schedule to cover for Leslie’s absence, and everyone’s workload was heavy.
He’d worked through lunch and so far his afternoon had consisted of three depression patients, a diabetic who was recovering from a recent toe amputation due to gangrene, a hemorroidectomy, numerous upper respiratory p
atients, and the heart-failure patient he’d just finished examining.
“Dr Jared, there’s a call for you on line four.” Kayla poked her head into Jared’s office. “It’s Dr Goodall’s nurse about Connie Black.”
Jared finished entering the information on the heart-failure patient and hit the save key. “Got it. Thanks, Kayla.”
He picked up the receiver. “Dr Floyd here.”
“Hold while I get the doctor, please,” the nurse immediately responded.
Jared pulled up Connie’s file. She was due to start her chemotherapy this morning. Had something gone wrong?
“Jared?” Dr Goodall’s voice came over the line. “I’ve got bad news.”
Connie hadn’t wanted to go through chemotherapy again. Had she changed her mind about proceeding with treatment? He’d call her, convince her to go, drive her to the appointment himself if that’s what he had to do to get her there.
“Connie started her chemotherapy this morning and did fine.”
Relief washed over him.
“But Connie’s neighbor just called. Apparently after they got home Connie suffered a severe reaction to the medication. I’ve called for an ambulance and am heading to the hospital to meet them, but I knew you’d want to know.”
Tension gripped the muscles in Jared’s neck, clawing into his very being. He pulled his car out of the designated doctors’ parking lot and onto the highway to head home.
What a hellish day.
Mere moments after the ambulance, he’d arrived at the house Connie had shared for forty years with her husband. They’d all been too late. The paramedics hadn’t even attempted resuscitation. Not that a dozen attempts would have mattered.
Connie’s face had already turned blue and with such a rapid onset of discoloration Jared suspected she’d had a clot that had gone to her brain, cutting off vital blood flow.
He rubbed his fingers over his face, trying to ease the gritty feel of his raw eyes. When he pulled back, moisture dampened his skin.
Oh, hell.
No. He wouldn’t. Hadn’t ever. Not even when his life had fallen apart after Laura had died.
He wouldn’t start now. Not today. Sure, he had guilt, but didn’t he always?
