"No. I won't cancel on him tonight." That is, unless I change my mind after you drop me off at home.
"Good." We signal for the waitress and pay our bill. The ride to my house only takes about five minutes and as we are pulling into the driveway, my phone chirps. I grab it out of my purse and my stomach, along with my heart, falls.
Tyson: I got called into work, heading there now. Can I get a rain check on dinner?
Me: I understand.
I don't comment on the rain check because, at this point, I'm not really sure how I want to respond.
"What's wrong? You look like someone kicked your puppy." Quinn's voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn my tear-streaked face to hers.
"He canceled."
"What?" She rips my phone out of my hand and reads the text. "Harley, he got called in to work."
"I know," I nod.
"Then why are you crying? He has a good reason to cancel."
I shove the heels of my hands into my eyes and groan. "I know! I think I'm getting ready to start my period or something."
"Period," she says, putting her car in reverse and backing out of my driveway. "Girl, with all the tears you've shed, it's more like an exclamation point!"
I shove her shoulder, thankful that she can always make me laugh. "Where are we going?"
She glances in my direction, her eyes full of mischief. "I'm not going to let you sit at home tonight and dwell on what happened. What kind of friend would it make me if I let you do that? I'm taking you to get a mani-pedi, and then we're going to go shopping, buy smokin' hot outfits, and hit up the town!"
My phone vibrates in my hand again and I look down.
Tyson: I'm sorry, Harley.
What's he sorry for, canceling on me or rejecting me?
Me: Me too.
Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball filters through the speakers—how fitting, I think to myself—and my eyes close as her sultry voice fills the air.
"I love you, Quinn." I don't open my eyes to look at her, but I know that she’s looking at me. I can feel the weight of her stare.
"Of course you do. What's not to love?" Yup, that's Quinn. A laugh rips from my throat and I can practically hear her smile.
"NOPE," I SHAKE MY head vehemently, "I can't."
Her eyes narrow and she slides the shot glass in front of me. "You can and you will."
I take the shot because there really is no point in arguing with Quinn. When she has her mind made up, there is no way she's going to change it.
We enjoyed our day at the nail salon and had a blast shopping. It's been a long time since I've felt my age and today I felt young and carefree. Quinn looks smokin' hot in a denim shirtdress that she paired with leopard-print heels. Me, I'm not so confident with my wardrobe, but I did manage to find an awesome pair of white lace shorts that I paired with a gauzy, pale pink top and nude heels. All in all, I was pretty damn pleased with how we looked when we walked out the door two hours ago.
Our intention was to hit up a few local bars, have fun, and enjoy the rare chance of getting to hang out. We walked into the first bar and never even made it to a table before Quinn and I made the joint decision that it just wasn't going to cut it. I put a call in to Levi and he hooked us up with a table in the VIP section at Blue.
Don't get me wrong. Quinn and I have no problem hanging out at our old stomping grounds. But tonight we preferred to be ogled by thirty-something businessmen and not twenty-something boys, who couldn't deliver an orgasm if it was handed to them on a silver platter.
"Alright. Check out the guy at three o'clock." I chuckle at her attempt to be stealthy. Leaning back in my seat, I cock my head to the left. Well, hello there! Mr. Three O'clock is tall, dark, and handsome, and has a set of broad shoulders that would put any linebacker to shame.
"Nope." Picking up my empty glass, I wave it at the bartender, Ryan, signaling for another drink. He tilts his chin in acknowledgment and I turn to Quinn, who is staring at me like I've grown a third head.
"What?" I ask.
"What do you mean, nope? He—" she says, waving her hand dramatically at Mr. Three O'clock, "—is not a 'nope' kind of guy."
"Quinn, I told you, I'm not going to go hit on some guy because Tyson rejected me last night."
"Why not?" she whines. "He could be the one."
"Trust me, he is not the one," I scoff as Ryan puts my drink on the table.
"How do you know? You won't even go talk to him. Is this because you haven't been on a date in four years? Because if that's the reason, then I promise you, it's like riding a bike!"
"I've been on dates," I pout.
"Um...Harley, that was called fucking, not dating." She lifts her glass of dark liquor and takes a sip.
"Jesus, Quinn, why do you have to be so crude? Did you see the guy next to Mr. Three O'clock?" I ask, diverting the conversation away from my lack of dating skills.
"Mmmm." A low rumble rolls from Quinn's throat and she uncrosses her legs and stands, adjusting the hem of her dress.
"What are you doing?" I whisper hiss.
"I'm going to talk to the Adonis." She winks and then spins on her five-inch heels and walks away. I don't know how in the hell she walks in those things. My heels are three inches at best, and usually I just wear kitten heels. If I put those spikes on that she wears, I'd bite the dust.
Quinn is smooth and graceful as she glides across the floor, drawing the attention of every man in the room. Her blond hair is cut in a long stack, starting at the base of her hairline and tapering down past her chin. The inside layer of her hair is black and pops under the platinum blonde top layer. It's sassy and sexy, just like Quinn. Her body is slammin' and her legs go on for miles. I'm completely jealous. No really, I am! My once perky breasts now hang, thanks to Max's constant appetite as a baby, and the stretch marks on my stomach are distorted in an unattractive way. Sure, I can hide all of that with a good push-up bra and a pair of Spanx, but eventually those have to come off!
My eyes widen in horror when I notice Quinn, Adonis, and Mr. Three O'clock making their way over to our table. Adonis glances at Quinn's ass as she walks, and based on the smirk on her face, she knows exactly what kind of effect she’s having on him. I take notice that Three O'clock isn't watching Quinn's ass. No, he's watching me. I grab my drink, using it as a distraction. What the hell is she doing?
SOME TIME LATER, I find myself immersed in testosterone and loving every freaking minute. It turns out that Mr. Three O'clock, who actually was a linebacker in college, has a name, Brady, and Adonis is really Ben. Shortly after they joined the table, Levi and his brother, Mason, showed up. Turns out that it wasn't a coincidence Brady and Ben were here tonight. Apparently, Levi and Mason are thinking about expanding their business and Brady and Ben are here to discuss the possibility of opening up a restaurantbar in both Chicago and Nashville.
Of course, Levi gave Brady a hard time, threatening to break both of his hands if he so much as looked at me the wrong way, and Brady answered by throwing his head back and laughing. At some point, Cooper and one of his co-workers showed up and joined the group—looks like Quinn and I hit the hot-guy jackpot tonight!
I now find myself squished between Brady and Levi, listening as all the men share stories of their craziest one-night stands. I’m wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes at Cooper's most recent experience when Quinn stands, excusing herself to go to the bathroom.
Brady cocks his head and leans in to me. "Aren't you going to go with her?"
I can't help the easy smile that slides across my face. He looks genuinely concerned that I'm not going with her. "No, believe it or not, there’s no rule that says girls have to go to the bathroom in pairs," I say with a laugh.
He smiles at me, relaxing back in his chair. Conversation dies down and a comfortable silence descends on the table when Cooper leaves to get another round of drinks. I really should stop, but the drinks are going down really smooth...and well, I don't want to stop. The shrill sound of a ph
one interrupts the light conversation and we all look around to see who the important person is. Levi smiles and digs his phone out of his pocket.
"Hey! What's up?" he answers, taking a drink of his beer. I don't mean to eavesdrop on his conversation, but I have nothing better to do.
"I'm actually here now, you should come on up." He looks at me and smiles, draping an arm over the back of my seat. He laughs, nodding his head a few times, and then he sits up and twists away from me, the unexpected movement catching me off-guard.
I can't hear what’s being said so I lean a little closer to Levi. "Ummm...are you sure that's a good idea?" He notices that I’m listening in and gives me the stink eye, which of course I return. "Yeah, you're right. It’s fine. Alright man, see you soon." Levi ends the call and shoves his phone in his pocket. He looks everywhere but at me as he raises his hand, motioning for Ryan to bring a round of shots to the table.
I slap his arm playfully to get his attention, even though I'm feeling anything but playful. "Who was that?"
"No one." His smile is too bright and his answer is too quick. "How drunk are you?" he asks.
I narrow my gaze at him. "What's your deal? What are you up to?"
"Nothing. How drunk are you?" he asks again.
"Eh..." I shrug my shoulders, "...maybe halfway there."
"Good," he says, sliding a shot in front of me. "I'm in the mood to dance.
I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS is happening. Of course I get called in to work on the one fucking night that I need to be off. After the way things ended last night, I fully expected Harley to try and pull some bullshit and cancel on me. I was determined that I was going to fight her on it, until I was the one who had to cancel.
Her short replies and lack of attention to my request for a rain check bothered me. But when I told her I was sorry and she replied 'me too,' I had a horrible feeling she wasn't referring to me canceling on her and that gutted me. I'm still mad at myself for doing whatever I did to put that wounded look on her face last night.
So, needless to say, here I am in the ER and we're fucking slammed. I typically don't mind being busy because it makes the time go by faster, but today has been disastrous. At least Avery is here today; she always makes things a little more fun.
As soon as my shift started, we had a motor vehicle accident roll in. It was a husband and wife, and the husband coded on me twice before they were both rushed into surgery. My next patient had a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The kid was only twenty years old and he was shot in the fucking abdomen for a drug deal that went horribly wrong. What the hell is wrong with the world today? And to top my morning off, I just finished taking care of a woman who tried to overdose. Apparently, she thought swallowing a bunch of her psychiatric medicine and chasing it with a bottle of Jack was the best way to convince her son that he wasn't, in fact, attracted to men.
I rip off my gloves, wash my hands, and push my way out the door. Avery is standing at the end of the hall, staring at the ceiling with her hands on her hips. I haven't had much time to talk to her today because we've been so busy, but I heard that she was working on a tough case.
"Avery?" I grip her shoulder gently and her head drops as a small sob rips from her throat. Her shoulders begin to shake and I step up behind her so she knows I'm here, but I don't say anything else. It's obvious to me that she doesn't need to talk right now...she needs to grieve. I've been in her shoes. I know what it's like to become emotionally attached to something or someone, and it doesn't turn out the way you wanted. It’s devastating and often leaves you feeling like you've failed.
A couple of minutes pass and her shoulders stop shaking. She is still facing away from me, but I don't need to see to know that she is hurting. She takes a deep breath and raises her head. Her hands wipe furiously against her face and she slowly turns to look at me. When our eyes meet, all of her emotions resurface. Tears re-form and breach the confines of her lashes without notice. Her chin quivers and I know she's doing everything in her power to hold it in. "Come on, you need to take a minute." Placing my hand at the small of her back, I lead her into our break room and lock the door.
I reach for her arm and she doesn't resist. Pulling her to me, she buries her face in my chest and allows herself to lose control. "I lost her," she cries, her tears soaking through my shirt. Raising her head, she peers up, my scrubs bunched up in her fists. Her sad, bloodshot eyes stare back at me and my heart breaks. "She was a mother." Her last word cracks on another gentle sob and her head falls against my chest. "She had two kids, Ty. Two. They're five and seven, and now their mom is gone." I don't say anything because I'm really not sure what to say. I've lost kids, parents, grandparents...you name it and I've seen it. I know it’s hard but it's just something that you have to grieve and move past, or the 'what ifs' will eat at you and break you down.
"She'll never see them graduate high school or go on their first dates. She'll never see them kick the final goal to win a soccer game or go off to college." A strangled cry flies from her mouth and I pull her in tighter. "They're going to go through their whole lives without the one person who is supposed to be there to support them and protect them. Now who is going to do those things?" she asks, raising her grief-stricken face to mine.
"Their dad is going to do it." I normally would never presume that the kids have a dad or that he's actually capable of taking over, but I saw the family she is talking about in the waiting room and the guy looked like a stand-up guy. I understand that looks can be deceiving, but he looked devastated and I saw him holding his two boys tightly as they all prayed for the woman that they love with all their hearts.
"He is going to step in and fill those shoes as best he can. He is going to remind them of their mother every day, and he is going to love those boys with everything he has because they need him and that's what a dad does." At least that's what my dad would have done.
"Do you have kids?" she whispers into my shoulders.
"Nope. You?" I respond quietly, continuing with the slow circles my hand is making on her back.
"No. But someday..." She trails off, sniffing a few times, and after several more minutes, her shoulders stop shaking.
"Are you okay?" I pull back from her, gripping her shoulders in my hands. Her eyes are still sad, but her tears have dried. She tries for a genuine smile but fails miserably, and I chuckle lightly at her attempt.
"I will be. Thanks for that," she says, waving at my tear-soaked scrub top. Laughing, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her into me.
"Yes. You will be. Look, I know that this is hard—losing anyone is hard—but you've got to allow yourself to move on. Not only for your own sanity, but because there are still patients sitting in those rooms," I say, pointing out to the hall, "that need you completely focused when you go in to take care of them."
Fuck. I probably sound like a cold bastard, but when you're around this type of thing every day, you learn to deal with it. It doesn't mean you forget about it, but you learn to live with it.
A genuine smile lights up her face. "Aren't you just the resident and I'm the Doc? I'm the one that supposed to be helping you deal with these things." Her voice is light and seems unaffected, but I can tell it bothers her that I saw her lose her shit like that.
"It doesn't matter, you needed to grieve and I was here. Maybe I'll let you buy me lunch for acting as your human tissue!" She slaps my chest playfully and moves to walk out. "Is that a yes?" I yell down the hall after her. She lifts her hand above her head, waving me off and I laugh quietly.
"NO, NO! I GOT it!" she says, pushing me aside to hand the cashier her employee card.
I attempt to block her, but she's a tough little thing. "Avery, I was joking. I don't expect you to pay for my lunch."
"Oh no! I'm not going to fall for that one. You'll hold that shit against me someday!" she says, pointing a celery stick at my face.
We opt to take our lunch back to the break room because Avery is still feeling a little raw over what happened t
his morning.
"So...do you want to talk about it?" I ask, popping a fry into my mouth.
She shakes her head firmly. "Nope. In fact, I'd very much like to talk about anything that doesn't have to do with healthcare. Hey," she says, smiling brightly and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, "how are things going with that girl you care about?"
Well, shit! She doesn't want to talk about healthcare, and I don't want to talk about Harley. But I will because, fuck me, I've got to tell someone, and I sure as shit can't tell Levi...he's just too close to her. It kills me to think about just how close they really were.
"We had drinks last night," I say, shoving my cheeseburger in my mouth.
"That's great." She smiles around her soda and I know she's being sincere. I can tell by the open admiration on her face that she genuinely wants me to be happy.
"She tried to kiss me." Her eyes widen and she grins.
"She seems bold, I like that!" she says excitedly.
"Yeah, well, I screwed it up," I reply.
Avery's eyebrows rise and she looks at me amusingly. "How on earth can you screw that up? It's really easy, Ty. The girl you care about tries to kiss you...you kiss her back. What did you do?" she asks with a laugh.
My eyes lock onto hers and I stare at her condescendingly. I don't need this. I don't need some chick telling me what I did wrong. I'm not an idiot, I know what I did was wrong. Sitting quietly, I take a few more bites, determined not to have this conversation. Fuck this...this is chick shit, and there's no way in hell I'm going to sit around and gossip about my feelings.
Avery continues to stare at me. I'm able to stay strong for a few seconds, but her questioning gaze is unwavering and it pisses me the hell off.
"Fine," I blurt. "If you must know, I pulled away from her!"
Avery sets her sandwich down and tilts her head to the side. I hate it when women do that shit; it drives me crazy.
"Why?"
"Because she has a boyfriend," I reply sharply, instantly regretting my harsh tone. Sitting back in her chair, she crosses her arms over her chest. I keep shoving food in my mouth, hoping like hell it will keep me from talking.
Where We Belong Page 14