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We sit in silence for a little while, and I find the quieter the room is, the quicker I notice the pain fading away. “Gigi?” Sean questions, breaking the silence and pulling me out of my head. I turn toward him and wait for whatever it is he has to say. “Georgie told me everything you did for her.”
My lips pull into a tight line. I see the big, whopping, thank you on his lips, but I don’t want it. What happened today isn’t something I want to be praised for. I did what I had to do, just like any other decent human being would have done in my position. I don’t want to be recognized for that. I don’t want a constant reminder of this day. I just want to move on and get back to life.
“Don’t,” I say, cutting him off. “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want you to. I just . . . I want to forget today happened.”
“Gigi,” he sighs, raw emotion in his eyes. “Trust me, ignoring it is not going to help you forget. It’s going to eat you up inside until you can no longer breathe. One day, you’ll think you’re fine, and the next . . . ”
He cuts himself off as a tear rolls down my face, and I watch as he leans forward and quickly wipes it away. “You protected my little girl by risking your own life, Gigi,” he tells me. “You would have given yours for hers. I’m not about to pretend that didn’t happen.”
I close my eyes and let out a slow breath. “I did what I had to do,” I tell him quietly, the whole thing playing like a horror movie in my mind.
Sean stands and leans in toward me so our faces are just inches apart, those dark eyes of his boring into mine. “You did so much more than that,” he whispers before closing the gap and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.
If I wasn’t having such a shitty day, I probably would have eaten that up and given him everything I had, but not now, I need a few moments to find myself. “Thank you, Gigi,” he murmurs as his forehead rests against mine.
“How are you feeling now?” he questions as he moves back and takes his seat again, his gaze shifting over me. “Is the morphine helping? Do you need more water?”
His thumb moves across my knuckles, and I concentrate on that, not wanting to feel any other part of my body right now. “I’m okay,” I tell him and watch as relief comes to his dark eyes. “I’m starting to feel the morphine. It’s helping.”
“Good,” he murmurs as he lets out a breath.
Dr. Monroe comes in through the curtain and relief fills my veins, knowing I had the best trauma surgeon working on me today. He demands I have six weeks off to heal, and I let out a groan. I absolutely love my job, and the thought of having any time off kills me. I can’t even sneak back early since I work in the same damn place as the guy.
He checks my chart, and after moving across to check Georgie’s and confirming she’s looking great, he strides out of the room, leaving me feeling deflated. I let out a sigh and immediately start pouting, the heaviness on my heart too much to bear. I mean, what the hell am I going to do with six weeks off?
“You okay?” Sean asks.
“No.”
His eyes go wide as he flies to his feet, his gaze sailing over my body, ready to jump into action and help me in any little way he can. “What’s wrong?” he rushes out. “What’s hurting?”
“No. No, it’s not that,” I tell him. “I’m just—”
“You’re upset about having so much time off,” he finishes for me, understanding dawning in his dark eyes, only his brows furrow, clearly confused.
“Yeah. Wouldn’t you be?”
“No,” he scoffs. “I’d give anything to have more time off to spend with Georgie.”
I glance away, my gaze sailing out the window and taking in the wide world just outside this hospital. “Yeah, well, I don’t have a kid.”
“Fair enough,” he says, trying to hide a smirk.
Letting out a sigh, I give him my truth. “My work is all I have. It’s what I live for, and I love what I do. Having six weeks just sitting at home . . . All I’m going to do is replay it over and over again. Being here at work is what I need.”
Sean gives me a tight smile, and I see the understanding in his eyes, but I can also see how much he wishes he could give me what I want. “I’m sorry, Gigi,” he murmurs, squeezing my hand.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where my phone is, do you?” I ask, wanting to move on. “I should probably call my parents and Mel.”
