by Devney Perry
“Oh, no. It’s not me. It’s Mom. When she comes here by herself, he gets too close to her when he talks.”
“Phew. You had me worried. Do you think maybe he’s a close talker?”
“Maybe? He’s a good doctor and he helped me a lot. But . . .”
“I get it.”
He had a vibe. Dr. Vernon gave me that uncomfortable twitch. It wasn’t every time he was around. It wasn’t even the majority of the time. But it happened enough to set me on edge.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” The last thing I wanted was to ruin Luna’s relationship with her doctor. I’d probably already said too much, so I changed the subject. “You smell nice today. Did you get a new lotion?”
She nodded, bringing her fingers to her nose. “Mom brought me a new one earlier this week. It smells like you.”
“I’ll have to get the name so I can add it to my collection.” Dad had bought me a similarly scented lotion when I’d been ten. It had been my go-to scent ever since. It was fresh with citrus undertones. Nothing overpowering for the hospital, and it kept my hands soft.
“So, um . . .” She glanced over her shoulder to the wall she shared with Milo. “Is he doing okay? I heard him yelling last night. He kept shouting the name Jess. Who do you think she is?”
“I don’t know.” And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I’d wondered about Jess last week when Kirk had mentioned her name but it hadn’t come up again. Had she been injured in the same explosion? She must have a special relationship with Milo for him to be calling out her name.
“You’ve been sitting with him at night, haven’t you?” Luna asked.
“Yes.” I filled up her glass of ice water from the small mauve pitcher on her table.
“I thought so. You haven’t been here much.”
My shoulders fell. With her having so little time left here, I felt badly for not giving her my full attention. “I’m sorry, Luna. I told him about how I sat with you when you first got here. He asked me to sit with him and I couldn’t say no. He’s . . . different. Special. Like you.”
“It’s okay. I suppose I have to cut off my attachment to you anyway. I’m leaving soon.”
“One more week.” And boy, would I miss her.
Luna’s hand drifted up to the burn scars on her scalp. “Mom and Dad offered to bring in a tutor for the rest of the school year so I could homeschool.”
“That was nice of them. Is that what you want?”
She dropped her eyes to her lap, giving me a one-shoulder shrug.
“Or you could go back to school.”
Luna closed her eyes. “What if the kids make fun of me?”
“They will.”
Her eyes snapped up to mine, wide and full of surprise that I’d be so blunt.
I smiled and sat on the edge of her bed. “Kids are mean. Some might laugh at you, with or without the scars. I was so shy in high school, I tried daily to blend in with the walls. That still didn’t save me from being tormented because I walked with my eyes on my shoes and my hair is a strange color.”
“It’s not strange, it’s pretty. Mine is strange.”
“Yours is beautiful. The purple suits you.” I stood from the bed and went to the closet, where her books were stacked on a shelf. “You’d better get started on homework. Math or English first?”
Luna groaned and dropped her head back into the pillow. “Math. I might as well get it over with.”
I brought over her textbook and a three-ring binder full of papers and assignments her parents brought to her each week from the school. “I’ll be back in a bit. Call if you get stuck on a question.”
“Thanks, Sara. ”
While she never had an issue cranking through her English without help, I’d dusted off my high school algebra and trigonometry skills to help her with the occasional worksheet problem. I was going to miss those worksheets when she left next week.
Leaving her to her homework, I returned to the hallway, where my eyes immediately tracked to Milo’s door. Every cell in my body wanted to walk in and make sure he wasn’t upset. But there was no reason to go in there. No professional reason, anyway.
His dressings were fresh. Dr. Vernon had checked all of his burns. He was in a lot of pain and things weren’t easy by any means, but as his nurse, there was nothing more I could do at the moment.
And I was just his nurse.
I turned away, my heart sinking as I walked in the opposite direction. I found Kym at the nurses station.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
She sank down into a chair and put her hands to her temples. “It’s okay. I have a horrible headache.”
“Oh, no. Can I get you anything?”
“I took some ibuprofen.”
“Would you like to swap sides?” The suggestion, though practical and necessary, felt like the worst idea I’d had since the perm I’d gotten in sixth grade. “It’s pretty quiet today. Luna is out next week, pending her final exam. Milo will need his dressings changed.”
The other patient on my side had been discharged yesterday, leaving me with only two, while her side still had four.
“Really?” Her eyes filled with hope. “I could use a lighter day.”
I nodded. “Really. In fact, why don’t you just take Milo and I’ll keep Luna on my rotation too?”
“Thanks, Sara.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I don’t want to use sick time and go home because of a stupid headache.”
I smiled. “No problem.”
We quickly exchanged notes and Kym gave me a summary of what she’d done for her patients already, then we set off in different directions.
I worked the day with focus and efficiency, spending time getting caught up with patients I hadn’t seen since before my New Year’s vacation, as well as one new man who’d come in for a three-day stay because of a huge second-degree burn on his leg.
It was a busy day, not unlike most, except without the intensity of Milo’s room. There were no heated stares. My heart didn’t jump when I knocked on any doors. My breath didn’t catch when other patients said my name.
I did my best not to stare at Milo’s room whenever it came into view. I failed more often than I succeeded. By the time the evening shift arrived, I knew if I didn’t collect my things from the locker room and sprint out of the building, I’d give in to the magnetic pull of his closed door.
“Good night, Sara,” Kym said, standing in front of her locker and zipping up her coat. “Thanks again for today.”
“No problem. How’s your headache?”
“It’s fading, thank God. I was worried it might turn into a migraine. See you tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Yep. See you tomorrow.”
Alone in the room, I collected my purse and pulled the strap onto my shoulder. I hung my coat over my forearm and shut the locker door.
Go home.
Walking out, I kept my eyes fixed on the linoleum tiles as I made my way toward the stairwell. If I could just make it down one flight of cement steps, I’d be set.
Except that damn door wouldn’t let me go. I twisted my head over my shoulder just enough to see Milo’s door once before I made my escape. My hands rested on the metal bar of the steel door. I couldn’t push it open.
Why was his light on? Unless he was having his dressings changed or Dr. Vernon was doing an exam, he kept the room dark. Had Kym forgotten to shut them off? Or was something wrong?
My feet changed direction without permission, striding faster with each step closer to his room. When I reached the threshold, I was breathless, my heart racing.
I burst into the room. The moment he spotted me, his eyes flared, the coffee-colored rings flashing with surprise, then darkening to rich sable as he assessed me from head to toe. The bright lights shone down on his hair, making the short, velvety strands look more caramel than brown. A golden contrast to those mesmerizing eyes.
How had he managed to get more handsome in only a day?
I halted in t
he center of his room. “Are you okay?”
“Didn’t think I’d see you again today.”
“I, um . . .” I looked at the floor. “I traded sides with Kym.”
“Why?”
“Because I-I . . .” I couldn’t answer the question. He’d see right through my pitiful excuse that it was because of Kym’s headache. But did he really have to ask? Couldn’t he see what he was doing to me?
Milo looked away, aiming his eyes at the ceiling before he let them drift shut.
“Would you like me to shut off the light?”
He nodded once.
I clutched my coat tightly as I walked to the bathroom and shut off the light. Then did the same with the one above his bed. Shrouded in the safety of the darkness, I glanced at the chair in the corner of the room.
Go home.
“I should go.”
I didn’t move.
Milo didn’t either.
Did he even want me to stay? Had I read too much into his statement earlier? Maybe his I have Sara had simply been something to ease his parents’ worries. Maybe the intimacy I’d heard in those three words was all my imagination.
Oh my God. I was dreaming this all up, wasn’t I? I had feelings for Milo and I’d convinced myself he had them in return.
Embarrassment nearly chased me from the room, but before I could raise a foot, Milo’s deep voice spoke in no more than a whisper.
“Stay. Please.”
The relief was so overpowering, tears flooded my eyes. Maybe his feelings for me weren’t as strong as mine were for him, but he wanted me to stay.
That was something.
That was everything.
Powerless to resist his plea, I went to the chair, stowing my purse and coat underneath as I sat. There wasn’t much noise outside in the hallway. Connie, one of the evening-shift nurses, walked by and spotted me. She gave me a finger wave and a small smile, then pulled the door closed, leaving me and Milo alone in our dark, warm cocoon.
Here, it was easy to pretend there wasn’t an entire hospital beyond the walls, one with rules and reprimands. Here, it was just two strangers keeping one another company. Here, we were two new friends quickly becoming . . . more.
At least, it was more for me.
“I freaked you out earlier,” Milo said.
“Maybe a little.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” I relaxed deeper into the chair. Being around Milo was exhilarating. Confusing. He made my pulse race and palms sweat, but in his company, my spirit had never felt so at peace. In my thundering heart, I knew this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I’d known the man just over a week. How did that make sense?
My feelings were so jumbled and unfamiliar, I needed time to pick them apart. And now was not that time.
“Milo, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, tilting his head in my direction, though he kept his eyes closed.
“Why do you want your parents to leave?” I’d promised myself to stay out of it, but the more he pushed them away, the more curious I became.
“They should be home, sleeping in their own bed. Eating at their dining room table, not a hospital cafeteria. They have work to do on the farm. They don’t need to be here watching my skin grow.”
He had a point, but Kirk and Teresa were devoted to their son. Milo was a grown man, but here they were, supporting him completely. Loving him without reservation. Did he know how rare that was? Did he know how special it was he had them both? I’d give anything to feel my dad’s unconditional love again, even for a moment.
“Can I ask you another question?”
“You don’t need permission, Sara. Ask me anything.”
I held a breath, working up some courage. “Why do you want me to sit with you?”
That question got his attention. Milo’s eyes opened slowly, fixing on me. “I like your voice.”
“My voice?” I’d always thought it too high-pitched and sheepish.
“It’s soothing. It makes the pain . . . It just—” He blew all the air from his lungs, his chest sagging into the bed. “When you’re in here, it’s easy to forget I’m such a screwup.”
“You’re not a screwup.”
He scoffed. “I almost got myself killed.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes closed again. “How about a different question?”
“Okay.” Except all that came to mind had to do with the explosion and why he was here. All but one. “Who’s Jess?”
Milo’s lips pursed in a thin line, making me regret asking. A moment of silence passed without an answer and I was sure he’d ignore me. Then he turned once more and those kind eyes were brimming with regret.
“Jess is my boss. The sheriff of Jamison County. He is the toughest sonovabitch there is. And I almost got him killed too.”
Him. Jess was a man. I shouldn’t have been happy, given how Milo’s voice was full of grief, but my foolish heart had been terrified Jess was Milo’s girlfriend.
“I was burned in an explosion. But you knew that.”
I nodded. “It was in your chart.”
“How much do you know?”
“Very little.”
Milo lifted his shoulders and winced as he struggled to sit up.
I was out of my chair in a flash, reaching for the controls to raise the head of his bed. He couldn’t sit up completely due to the burns on his stomach. But we could lift him some to make conversation and eating easier.
After, I helped prop his shoulders and head up with an extra pillow. Then I took the water pitcher from his table and filled his plastic cup. “Here.”
“Thanks.” After a long drink, he wiped his lips dry and handed the cup over.
“More?”
He shook his head and I set the water down, returning to my seat.
Milo waited a few more moments before he began to speak, and when he did, he talked to his lap. “I’m a deputy for the Jamison County Sheriff’s Department. I haven’t been a cop that long, but I should have known better.”
The anguish in his voice was hard to hear. It wasn’t the smooth timbre it normally was. He spoke like he was choking, in hoarse rasps.
“Jess and me and this guy Beau—he works for the forest service—we went up to the mountains on a tip. Some snowmobilers reported they’d found an old trailer on forest service land that was suspicious. So we went up to check it out. We’d been trying to track down a meth dealer’s cookhouse for months without luck. Thought that might be it.”
Milo swallowed hard and I stood to take him more water. He finished another glass and nodded for me to go back to my seat.
“The place.” He scrunched his nose. “We found it. Fuck, it smelled bad. I’ve never smelled anything like it before. Burned your nostrils from fifty feet away. Beau ran back to the truck to get some bandanas to cover our faces while Jess and I walked to the trailer.”
I was on the edge of my seat, nerves stirring my stomach as he took another long pause. He didn’t need to finish. I knew that whatever happened next had landed him here. But the more he spoke the more I realized this wasn’t only for my benefit. Milo needed to tell this story out loud. He needed to explain.
Because the guilt was eating him alive.
“The door was rigged. I should have known. I reached for it. Jess yelled for me to stop. But I didn’t think. I opened the door and this propane tank some yards away, it just went . . .”
Boom.
“I woke up here and didn’t know what had happened,” he said. “Dad said Beau hauled me and Jess out of there. I took the brunt of it since I was closest. Jess, he got thrown from the blast into a tree. A branch went clean through his side.”
I grimaced. “But he’s okay? Your dad said Jess was going to pull through, right?”
“Yeah,” Milo muttered. “Still doesn’t make it easier. I should have known better. I was so damn eager to get inside and
make a big bust, thinking I was finally going to earn some respect. Not be the rookie even though I’d been a cop for years. But like always, I fucked it up. Jess almost died. I almost killed him. And myself. I should have known better.”
Standing from the chair, I went to Milo’s side and sat on the edge of the bed. What I really wanted was to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. Instead, I took his hand, which was covered in thick, soft bandages, and sandwiched it between my own.
“Sounds like whoever rigged the explosion is at fault. Not you. All you did was open a door.”
He stilled, not moving even to breathe. His hand was like a stone as my words echoed in the darkened room. From the hallway, the hum of a cart’s rolling wheels passed by the door. It wasn’t until the sound was gone that Milo breathed again. And his fingers curled around my grip.
“Are you always right?”
I blew out the breath I’d been holding, then smiled. “Usually.”
“Hmm.” He let his head relax into the pillows. His eyes once again closed. But he didn’t let go of my hand. “I’ll have to remember that for the future.”
Four
MILO
“Hey.” Sara sniffled as she came into the room. Her shoulders were curled in, her head hanging down. When she closed the door, she studied the handle like it was the most interesting fixture in the room.
Finally, she stepped away and lifted her chin. But she still wouldn’t look at me. Her gaze tracked to the empty chair in the corner. Then the wall. Then the TV. When she couldn’t hide from me any longer, she glanced at the bed, but only at my feet.
“Sara.”
“Yes?” She walked to the sink and pumped a dollop of hand sanitizer into her palm, rubbing and rolling it over her hands.
“Sara.”
“Hmm?”
“I know you’re upset.”
She shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Then would you look at me?”
Her arms fell to her sides. The corners of her mouth turned down. Then she gave me those beautiful, forest-green eyes flooded with tears.
My right hand came to my chest, rubbing at the sting beneath my sternum. As a man who’d had a swift education in the pain scale of one to ten these past few weeks, the sight of Sara crying was at least a seven.