by Mona Shroff
Something flashed in Daniel’s eyes: recognition, sympathy, understanding? It was as if he knew how hollow she’d felt.
“It sounds ridiculous, I know,” she sniffled. Out of nowhere, Daniel handed her a tissue with his free hand. She half smiled her gratitude as she dabbed at her eyes.
“No.” His voice was low and gruff, as if he fought off emotion. “No, it’s not ridiculous. A loss...is a loss.”
Something in his voice—a hitch, or a momentary heaviness—made her catch his eye. “Did you lose somebody?”
He met her gaze with such sorrow Annika caught her breath. The slightest flick of his eyes and the moment was gone. “Just something I learned in my line of work.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m dumping all this on you now. We hardly know each other, and I know I should be past this by now.”
“That’s not true.” Daniel tipped her face up from where he still held her. “We know each other. We’re...friends, right?”
She nodded, but her heart sank just a bit. Sure. That was what they were. Friends.
“I mean, at least I know you well enough to know that any man who let you go is not in his right mind. And certainly breaking up with someone in the ER is probably one of the lowest things I’ve ever—” He paused, pressing his lips together before speaking. “Anyway, it’s horrible.”
He rolled his stool even closer to her. Close enough that she could feel his breath on her. “Listen, you lost a baby, someone you loved—you need to grieve. You shouldn’t feel ashamed or like less of anything. There’s no time line for these things. You did nothing wrong. It wasn’t your fault.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “And it was shitty of that asshole or anyone to make you feel like you were somehow at fault.”
She just stared at him, allowing his words to fill her and enter her heart and mind. Tears continued to fall, but she had no desire to stop them. She had been scared but excited to become a mother. No matter what the circumstances. She might have been pregnant only eight to ten weeks, but it was enough for her to start to make plans, see the future. It was enough for her to fall in love.
Daniel continued to wipe aside her tears with his thumb. He stayed firm and strong, his eyes never leaving hers as her tears fell.
“I...I feel so empty.”
He nodded.
“I...I...” She never finished her sentence, because she was flat-out crying. Daniel pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her and held her while she sobbed. She was enveloped in comfort and strength and couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe.
Or could she? Such a feeling of comfort and stability—and familiarity—flashed through her, but, like an elusive dream, it was gone before she could grab it.
When the wave of sobbing passed her, she kept her face burrowed into his shoulder for a minute, enjoying the scent of him, and the comfort of his body, before pushing back to look at him.
“And Steven is a goddamn fucking asshole.” Not a new thought, but the pronouncement felt good. She wiped away her tears and tried to get herself back together.
Her proclamation earned her a small smile and a chuckle. “Yes. That he is.”
She was keenly aware of the intensity of his gaze and the rapid hammering of her own heart. His face was only a few inches from hers, and she shifted her gaze to his mouth. Without really meaning to, she found herself studying his lips and wondering how they would feel against hers.
The thundering of helicopter blades startled her, and she jumped away from him. He closed his eyes as he shook his head at the sound. When he opened his eyes, his lips were set in a grim line, shyly invoking both dimples, almost as if he’d been caught red-handed.
“Better find your brother.”
CHAPTER NINE
DANIEL
DANIEL STOOD AT the sound of the chopper. Maybe a bit too fast. He usually heard it before it got this close, but clearly his focus was diverted.
“Um, here. Take this for pain.” He handed her some ibuprofen and a glass of water.
Annika looked almost relieved. He started putting the suture kit back together and cleaned up.
“You can take more in eight hours if it still hurts.” He tossed the words over his shoulder as if he were talking to any patient as he quickly went to drop off instruments for sterilization. He needed the distance to clear his head.
What was he thinking? She was sobbing into his arms about losing her baby—finally allowing herself to feel the pain—and all he could think about was kissing her? Honestly, he had a problem. He did not need to be kissing Annika Mehta. Especially since she told him how badly she wanted to be a mother.
Except that she hadn’t pulled away from him.
And he hadn’t wanted her to.
He had almost told her the truth. He hadn’t told anyone about Sara since she’d died. The people who knew were people he knew when she was alive. And outside of work colleagues, he didn’t really hang out with anyone from back then.
He was keenly familiar with how it felt when your world stopped but everything else continued. How people went to work, loved each other, laughed together and basically continued to live their lives. He had had trouble believing any of that was still possible when a beautiful little girl had been so violently ripped from the earth.
He returned to find Annika standing and waiting for him. Her eyes were swollen. Her nose was still red, and her left hand was bandaged, but her smile threw him off balance and he had to stop in his tracks to gather himself. So much for clearing his head.
He finished straightening up, putting away any sign of the fact that he had just treated somebody, aware that she watched his every movement. “Exactly how much trouble can you get into?”
Daniel shrugged one shoulder. “Let’s just say you had a tour.” He took her good hand and guided her out the door. Her hand was warm and fit perfectly into his, and when she squeezed it, a thrill shifted through his body that he probably should not have enjoyed so much.
“Come on.” Daniel led the way out. But—just his luck—Crista was on her way in.
“Hey, Daniel! What are you doing—” Crista stopped as she saw Annika. Her gaze shifted back to Daniel, grazing over their clasped hands.
“Hey, Crista. Just a quick tour.” He turned toward Annika. “Crista, this is Annika. Annika, my colleague, Crista.”
Crista held out her hand for Annika to shake. Disappointment flooded him as she released his hand to shake Crista’s. He grimaced to himself. Ridiculous. He hardly knew her; she shouldn’t affect him like this. His reprimand was quickly forgotten as she took his hand and righted his world again.
“Oh, my. That doesn’t look too good.” A wide-eyed Crista nodded at Annika’s bandaged hand. She didn’t even bother hiding her smirk to Daniel. “You should have someone look at that for you.”
Annika flushed, darting a glance at Daniel, but rallied. “Oh, this? This is old...” Daniel gently squeezed her hand as if they shared a joke.
Crista raised an eyebrow at them. “Uh-huh. Yeah, probably all healed up by now.” Crista’s smirk was quickly headed to an outright laugh. Of course, Nilay chose that moment to barge in.
“Hey, did you see the chopper?” He was breathing heavy and his face carried that excited flush all boys seemed to get from seeing anything that flies. “That was seriously cool!”
Daniel made introductions without actually making eye contact with Crista. “This is Annika’s brother. He drove.”
“Uh-huh.” Crista leaned into Daniel and whispered, “Might want to get the hell out of here before Andrea sees.”
Daniel threw her a grateful grin. “You’re the best.” He glanced at Annika and nodded toward the door, then addressed Crista again. “I’m on shift in two days. See you then.” Daniel gently guided Annika with a small tug of her hand and dismissed Crista with a wave as they walked past her. “Let’s
go, kid.”
Once in the car, Annika turned to Daniel. “Are you in trouble?”
“Nah. Crista won’t say anything. Trust me.”
“Who’s Andrea?”
“Oh, she’s the pilot. Kind of a stickler for the rules.”
Alarm flashed across her face. “You sure you’re not in trouble?”
Daniel nodded. “Yes. We got out before Andrea got in. No problem.” He’d be doing Crista’s share of the cleaning for a month, but it was worth it.
Nilay chatted almost the whole car ride, asking question after question. Annika teased her brother, laughing at his antics and excitement, the way only an older sister can. It reminded Daniel of better days with Emma. He didn’t see her as much these days. It was too hard to see her son.
Something inside Annika seemed to have been released, and the professional in Daniel knew it was because she had shared some of her most personal fears with him. It was basic—a medical degree was not necessary to know that talking about the difficult things was a step toward healing.
He just couldn’t do it himself.
But seeing Annika this happy—it was delightful. She had almost completely shed her armor for the moment. A large grin formed almost automatically at the realization that her happiness made him happy. And he wasn’t used to any kind of happy. Daniel tried to force his expression into something neutral, so as not to appear ridiculous to her, but he couldn’t stop. Being with Annika made him want to smile.
Huh.
“Hey, Daniel, I know we just met, but could I come as a ride along on the chopper one time? I won’t get in the way—but I’m thinking about med school, and it would be awesome to see what happens,” Nilay said.
“Nilay,” Annika started in her big-sister voice, “I’m sure Daniel has better things—”
“No, actually, it’s fine. We do it from time to time.” Daniel looked at Nilay. “I’ll do you one better. You can come and shadow me at the ER, too.”
“The ER? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
This was the second chance today that he’d had to tell Annika the truth about how he met her—how he’d really met her—and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was cowardly and he knew it. But the smile on her face and the unspoken closeness when he caught her eye stirred something within him that he had forgotten was even there. What difference did it make how they actually met, when the connection was clearly there now?
“What? Are you serious? That would be beyond—I mean that would be so—I promise I won’t get in the way.”
“Great.” Daniel chuckled at Nilay’s wide-eyed gratitude. “I’ll have some forms for you, and a parent will have to sign off on it.”
“No problem!” Nilay was about busting out of his seat.
“Eyes on the road!” Annika and Daniel spoke together.
* * *
AT ANNIKA’S REQUEST, Nilay dropped her off at the bar, and Daniel got out, as well. He loitered outside the bar while Annika and her brother said goodbye.
It was properly dark now, a crispness lingering in the air. Not quite winter, but not summer, either. They stood alone in the streetlight, suddenly awkward with each other, and spoke at the same time.
“Listen, about what I told you.”
“You should rest that.”
Daniel smiled. “Sorry, you go.”
Annika met his eyes, bit her bottom lip. Damn. “Just about what I told you... Thank you for listening and for...everything.” She broke his gaze as a flush colored her cheeks. “I’m sorry I fell apart...”
Daniel held up a hand. “Don’t apologize for having feelings.”
Gratitude washed over her face as she nodded at him. “I do feel much better now, thanks. I just don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you. You’ve had to deal with some hard situations.” He paused. “I wish I had your strength.”
“You wish you had my strength? You must have missed the earlier show.” Annika shook her head.
Daniel fixed her in his gaze. “That was no show—it was real—sometimes you have to cry and swear. That takes strength.” Again, he was great at giving advice. Just don’t ask him to actually apply it himself. “You’re...well, you’re stronger than you think.”
She did not break eye contact, but did flash him a smile, and it was the most pleasant of electrical currents that flared through him again. It was like a drug. And possibly just as addictive.
“What were you saying?”
“Oh, just to rest your hand. Grab your bag.” He jutted his chin toward the door. “I can drive your car home.”
“It’s just a cut. I’ll be fine.” She examined her bandaged hand as if seeing it for the first time.
“Just a cut?” Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “You have seven stitches in there.”
“It’s my left hand.” Annika shrugged, but her eyes seemed glued to him. She cleared her throat. “And besides, I can’t leave Phil by himself. They have to clean up and serve customers. Bobby’s been covering for me, so I need to send him home.”
Daniel sighed. “Okay. Let’s go.” He started for the bar.
“Go where?”
“Into the bar.” He opened the door and waited for her.
“Aren’t you going home?” Brown eyes widened and she didn’t move.
“No, I’m going to be your other hand.” Or any other part she needed him to be.
Annika jerked her head back, her mouth dropping open for a moment, before she curved it into a smile. “You’re what?”
Daniel flushed. “I’ll carry your tray, so you can rest that hand.”
“I can carry it. I do it every day.” But she was still smiling.
“I know you can.” Daniel couldn’t meet her eyes. She obviously didn’t know he’d been watching her all this time. “But today, you’ll bust open my handiwork. I worked hard on those stitches, and I’ll be damned if you wreck them.”
She pursed her lips together as if she didn’t believe carrying the tray would harm her in any way. But her voice was surprisingly soft. “You should go home.”
“So should you,” he answered, as something quiet but real passed between them. He wondered once again what her lips would taste like when he kissed her. The way she looked at him, he was sure her thoughts were the same.
Annika broke the silence that built between them. “Well, I suppose that’s how friends help each other.”
“Um, yeah, sure.” Daniel nodded. “We did decide we were friends.” Damn it. He didn’t want to be friends with Annika. Though he didn’t really think he could be anything more. He simply needed to stop thinking about kissing her.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Just don’t spill anything.”
Daniel chuckled as she passed. “As if.”
* * *
LUCKILY, ANNIKA’S SHIFT had only three hours left in it. Unfortunately, they were the busiest three hours of the night. Annika donned her apron and started taking table orders. Daniel waited by the bar. The first of Annika’s orders was filled, and Daniel grabbed the tray before Annika could protest.
True to his word, Daniel carried all of Annika’s drink and food orders and did not so much as spill a drop anywhere. While Annika did not seem any less irritated with her shadow, she did at least seem grateful.
By 1:00 a.m. the stragglers had left, and Annika went into the kitchen to help Mrs. P. with the next day’s menu.
Daniel found himself standing in front of the bar piano. It was an older upright with a dark wood finish, covered in a thin layer of dust. As far as he knew, no one played it anymore. Bobby had mentioned that it used to be played every night, but none of the current employees knew how to play.
His muscles tensed at the familiar keys. He used to play for Sara when she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—sleep. The last tim
e he played was the night before...well, the last time he played for her was the last time he’d played.
* * *
“PLAY THE GOOD-NIGHT song for me, Daddy, pleeeaase?” He agreed, but before he started, she held up two fingers. “Two times, Daddy, okay?”
“I just got home from work, honey. I only have time for one song.” She pouted, but took the song only one time.
It would’ve taken him five minutes to play it a second time. His shift had been long and grueling, and he was covering the early shift for a sick colleague the next day. He had wanted to get her to bed so he could eat and get some sleep. The agony of regret was a hole in his gut. Not to mention the irony of the fact that he never slept well anymore and routinely forgot to eat.
An image of Annika laughing in the car, followed by the pain on her face as she opened up to him, flashed through his mind. Without thought, he sat down on the bench, his fingers automatically finding the cool keys. He ran his fingers up and down the keyboard a few times, the keys all at once familiar and foreign. He had expected to find fear and anguish here, but instead he found that warm feeling of greeting a long-lost friend, a level of peace he hadn’t known for years. Without thought, he played out a soft lullaby.
Images of Annika were replaced by blue eyes, soft brown curls and sticky kisses. His heart ached, and a familiar burning built up behind his eyes and prickled at his nose. He inhaled deeply and willed the sensation away as he continued to play. He transitioned from the soft lullaby to a rowdier children’s song, to some of the first classical pieces he’d ever learned. The music seemed to flow from his fingers, and he became lost in the melodies and harmonies of the sounds he produced. He could almost hear her voice, but tonight he did not run from it as he usually did. That was new.