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If I knew more, would the result have been the same?
Outside the room, Ryan finds me scrolling the computer, frantically reviewing Elda’s labs and overnight vitals.
“Hey,” Ryan says softly as he leans his large frame on the desk next to me. “What are you looking for?”
My shoulders sag knowing I’ve been busted. “I don’t know. Something. Anything. Something I missed, maybe.”
I hear his exhale as he adjusts his position to stand at my side.
He reaches for the stack of papers next to me but lets his hand fall low, gripping my wrist that’s holding the computer mouse. He gives a gentle squeeze, thumb gently rubbing my inner wrist as he whispers. “You didn’t kill her.”
My eyes water and I inhale sharply through my nose to cut the sting of the tears. Looking up at him, I want to ask more, to crawl up into his arms and smell his cologne, to ask him why, but my words are trapped in my throat.
“This isn’t on you.”
I nod once, only partially believing his words. “Excuse me,” I mutter, pulling my hand from his grasp. “I need to go offer my condolences to her husband.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lainey
At this rate, I’m never going to fall asleep.
After my shift, I came straight home and stood under the steam of a burning shower until the water ran cold. I tried to study, tried to watch TV, tried to start that romance novel my sister sent me, but my mind couldn’t focus on anything except Elda.
Each time I closed my eyes, I saw her pale face and matched it with the sadness in her husband’s eyes as he left the hospital alone. A glance at the bleeding numbers of my bedside clock tells me I should be passed out by now, but my body feels restless.
Mindlessly, I get up and wander through my apartment. When I first decided on Chicago as my destination, I nearly peed myself at the cost of a small, one-bedroom apartment. The price tag was worth it when I realized my unit was on the fifth floor, with one wall boasting floor to ceiling windows that overlook the river. It is one of the few places in the city I can still see the stars.
I took the stars for granted. Back home, I could look out any window on any given night and count the stars. I’d focus on Orion’s Belt, on the Big Dipper. When we were lucky enough, we’d get a glimpse of the Northern Lights. In the city, thebuildings surround me, and the nightlife often drowns out the sky, leaving me with a constant feeling of homesickness.
As I look out the living room windows, I wonder what the rest of the world is up to tonight. Who else is awake, consumed by their thoughts, unable to shut their mind off?
I drift back to Elda’s husband, his first night truly alone in almost seventy years. He returned home tonight with a feeling of homesickness that’ll never go away.
A soft knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Peeking over my shoulder into the kitchen at the clock on the microwave, my brow knits in confusion wondering who would possibly be stopping by at this time. The knock raps again, and I tip-toe over to the peephole, a gasp catches in my throat when I see my mystery guest.
Ryan.
I release the deadbolt, twist the knob lock and open the door. “Hey, is everything okay? Did I forget something?”
“Hey,” he rasps, eyes black as night in the dim lighting of my unit’s hallway. “I wanted to see how you are doing, make sure you’re okay.”
I huff a small laugh as my shoulders relax. “Jeez, am I that bad?” I open the door fully to let him in and keep talking as I lead him into the open-concept dining and kitchen. “I’m fine. I swear I don’t get like this after every single patient loss, but the last few days have been rough. But I’ll be fine.” I smooth back my matted, half-damp hair. “Sorry if I made you think I was losing my mind, and you had to come over here.”
He follows me into my apartment, and I perch on a bar stool near the kitchen island, ushering for him to sit but he opts to stand, leaning his tall frame against a wall, facing me. It should feel awkward having him in my space, but it’s far from that.
Looking around the living room, I try to see it through his eyes. It’s cute and cozy, but small. When I first moved to the city,I was so riddled with anxiety, and large spaces made me anxious. Getting a one-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath apartment without nooks and crannies for someone to hide in brought me a much-needed level of peace.
Turning my head back to him, I find his eyes on me, slowly working their way down my body before I remember I’m in my pajamas, sans bra, with my baggy t-shirt exposing more than my bare shoulder. He likely can’t see my tiny terry cloth shorts that do little to cover my ass.
Crossing my arms in a feeble attempt to hide my hardened nipples, I eye him from head to toe just the same. His dark grey hoodie and black joggers once again add to his black persona. But it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing – even in thick sweats my body hums at the memory of his lips on mine, of his thick thighs wedged between my legs and I feel my body come alive in his presence.
“How’d you know which apartment was mine?”
“The mailboxes are right by the entryway.”
“So, you went ahead and let yourself in?” I give a cheeky grin. “And you’re probably going to tell me again you don’t have any experience with stalking.”
