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“I know,” I say in response, staring straight at Drew, trying to force myself to breathe through the grief.
“Their last name was Barrows.”
I blink at him about ten thousand times.
“You’re telling me—”
“That was Callan’s brother and sister-in-law, and this is his niece.” Margot cups my chin and tilts my face up. “Are you okay?”
I stare at her. Then at Drew. Then over to the little girl. “Does he know yet?”
“No,” Drew answers.
“I’ll call him,” I tell both of them, rising off the gurney. I wipe my face, suddenly feeling foolish for losing it that way. I shake my head, staring around the room. “I’m sorry. I know this was unprofessional of me and it will never happen again.” I release a breath, taking in the little girl’s sleeping form. Callan’s niece. Jesus. “I was her once and this was my first experience with that here.” I clear my throat and straighten my spine. “I’ll call him.”
“No, you won’t. I will,” Drew says sternly but with tenderness to his features. “I was the attending on the case and I’m his boss. It’s my job. Not yours.” And with that, he marches out of the room, his cell phone already in his hand.
My hands run over my face and back through my hair. I’m a mess so I undo the elastic from my bun and quickly redo it into something tidier. “What does this mean?”
Margot sits on the gurney beside me and both of us watch the little girl sleep. “It means a whole lot of sadness.” Her hand lands on my shoulder and her brown eyes meet mine. “And we’ve all been there. Certain patients hit you harder than others. Something like this? It’s impossible for you not to feel it. Especially if you’ve lived it personally. Breaking is part of the job, Layla. But so is picking yourself back up and helping the next patient because they need you just as much.”
I nod, filled with gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Not being able to save them all is the worst part. It’s nights like these that used to drive me to a lot of alcohol and bad decisions. I’m sorry this was your night.” She gives me a wan smile. “Can you stay with her until Callan arrives?”
“I won’t leave her,” I assure her.
“Call if you need anything.”
Margot leaves me alone in the room with a sleeping orphaned little girl, her uncle presumably on his way. Her uncle. My heart lurches in my chest when I think about what he’s about to go through. Callan and I sat on the stone bench by my parents' grave until about five in the morning. Then I drove him home and that was that.
This morning he was in class and then here in the hospital, and it was as if I wasn’t here at all. All week we’ve treated each other as indifferent acquaintances with no past. And I thought that was… well, Iforcedmyself to think that’s good. I was paired with another doctor today, but I saw Callan. I saw him sneaking glances and watching me when he didn’t think I was paying attention. Truth is, I was only paying attention because I was doing the same with him.
That’s all this thing between us is. Stolen moments, sneaking glances, and watching from a distance. And I’m good with that.
Great with it even.
That doesn’t take away the strange, anguished gratitude I feel for being the one who was able to hold this little girl tonight. For being the one who gets to stay and be part of this. It’s not something anyone should go into without someone on the other side who has lived it for themselves, and I have.
And just as that thought hits my brain, a harried Callan comes flying into the trauma room, his eyes manic, swirling every which way before snagging and on me for a heavy beat, taking in my red face and puffy eyes, and then bouncing down to his sleeping niece.
I don’t even know her name, I realize.
He sucks in a broken breath, his entire body trembling, and tears start to roll down my cheeks once more.
“Is she…” He can’t even finish the thought. “Drew only said…”
“She’s asleep,” I whisper, my voice thick and crackly. “She wore herself out.”
“But she’s okay?” His eyes implore mine. “Physically, I mean.”
I nod. “Yes.”
His hands go to his hips and his chin tilts up as he stares at the ceiling. He’s breathing so hard, his chest rising and falling out of sync as he tries and fails to contain himself. Anguished tears hit his cheeks and those only make mine come harder.
“She was supposed to stay with me for the next couple of nights. My brother”—he coughs and clears his throat—“and his wife were going to a wedding on Cape Cod.” His hands run up his face, wiping away the tears, but they don’t stop and neither do mine. “I was going out of my mind. They were supposed to be at my house to drop her off more than two hours ago and he wasn’t picking up his phone. Now they’re gone and she’s…”
He shakes his head, spins in a circle, and slams his foot into the door of the trauma room, making it snap open and then sharply swing shut. I start, but the little girl doesn’t even stir. Climbing off the gurney, I amble over to him on unsteady legs. I have no words. There’s nothing to say. So instead, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my head into his chest.
