A Fallen Heart

by Cate Ashwood

  Nash walked to the cupboard and lifted a stack of plates.

  “Let me help you,” Ford said, and Nash gestured to one of the drawers to his right. He dug through and picked up the silverware they’d need for dinner before following Nash into the dining room.

  Together they set the table, and a minute later Nash’s parents joined them, Vivian using two crocheted pot holders to carry the bubbling lasagna and George bringing the caesar salad.

  “This looks absolutely amazing,” Ford said, and he meant it. Home-cooked meals weren’t something he ever had much of, growing up. He and Aaron had been latchkey kids, and since their parents’ schedules often ran through mealtimes, there was a lot of reheating previously prepared meals, rather than family gatherings with made-from-scratch pasta dishes.

  “I hope you enjoy it,” Vivian said, obviously pleased by the compliment.

  Everyone dug in, and the conversation never stopped. Nash might not have looked much like his father, but they shared the same sense of humor, and between the two of them, there was more than enough entertainment for the entire meal.

  Vivian attempted several times to shut down their swapping of horror stories from the job, George trying to outdo his son with the things he’d seen during his time as a paramedic. He had nothing on Nash. Being that George spent most of his years picking elderly women up off the floor in their hamlet of a town, Nash had far more gore in his repertoire of stories.

  When Vivian’s glares had become murderous, Nash finally steered the conversation to much more pleasant topics, and his mother seemed happy.

  After dinner, Nash and Ford took over the cleaning of the kitchen—despite Vivian’s protests—then joined George and his wife in the living room.

  Ford sat back and watched the interaction with a sort of envious quiet. Nash’s family seemed perfect. He knew he was only looking at a small snapshot of their relationship, but everyone seemed so happy to be spending time together. Ford felt like Norman Rockwell was going to pop out of the kitchen at any moment and start painting.

  Before Ford realized, Nash was standing and telling his parents that they should probably get going. Ford had been so caught up in things, he’d hardly noticed how much time had passed.

  They said their good-byes, and Ford thanked Vivian again for dinner as she handed him a Tupperware filled with leftovers and hugged him a second time, making him promise he’d come back before she let them walk out the front door. He exhaled when it closed behind them, as if he’d been holding his breath all night.

  It kind of felt like he had.

  “Are you okay?” Nash asked. He looked at Ford, his head quirked to the side as though he was trying to read Ford’s expression.

  “Yeah. I’m just not good with parents.”

  “You were great tonight. They loved you.”

  “They are too polite to say anything if they didn’t.”

  Nash laughed. “They are not. My mom may seem sweet, but she’s as passive-aggressive as they come. If she didn’t like you, you’d know it. She wouldn’t say anything directly, but there’d be no missing it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Nash nodded again, decisively. “Are you tired?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “Do you wanna go for a walk before we drive back?”

  Ford thought about it for a moment. He felt a little overwhelmed, and maybe fresh air was a good idea. The evenings weren’t too cold yet to be outside, and a walk might help clear his head, which at the moment was cluttered and chaotic.

  “Sure. Where are we walking to?”

  “The promenade to the pier?” Nash asked as he stashed the leftovers in the back of the vehicle.

  “I’ve never been down there.”

  “Seriously? How long have you lived here?”

  “Eleven years, but I never leave downtown if I can help it. Everything you’d want is there. The ocean is there. Why would I drive an hour to a different bay? It’s the same water.”

  “It’s not, though,” Nash said, taking Ford’s hand and leading him down the steep hill toward the beach.

  “You liked growing up here?” Ford asked.

  “In some ways, I guess, but I was like all teenagers. I wanted to be able to go to movies and concerts and hang out with my friends. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to move out on my own. I’d always wanted to live downtown.”

  “And yet you ended up joining the Army instead,” Ford noted.

  “Yep. Maybe that was my way of busting out of here. Go big or stay home?”

  “I can imagine, after having met her, how pissed your mom would have been when you told her.”

  “She was. I don’t know if you could tell, but she dotes on me. Being an only child, I was the focus of all her love and attention, which is great in theory….”

  “Not so great when you’re feeling like you’re caged?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is it weird, being an only child?” Ford asked. He couldn’t imagine it. He supposed he remembered a time before Aaron was born, when he was the only kid in his family, but most of his life he’d been a brother. It was part of who he was.

  “It’s all I’ve ever known, but yeah, kind of. I felt like there was a lot of pressure on me to live up to expectations. Both my parents come from huge families. Mom has six brothers and sisters, and Dad has five. They both wanted a whole house full of kids, but I was all they got.”

  “That must have been tough for them.”

  “No, I think it was fine. I was pretty much the best son ever, so it made up for not having any more kids.”

  Ford laughed. “Yeah, I bet. I can’t believe I forgot to ask your mom to see all your embarrassing baby photos.”

  “Next time,” Nash said.

  They crossed the street and walked past a little park, then down one more hill to the start of the promenade. The walkway was mostly deserted, and the water looked almost black as the waves lapped gently at the rocky shore. Trees dotted the grass beside the promenade, the twinkle lights in their branches making them appear less barren than they were.

  It was peaceful and still. The little shops along the street were closed for the night, and half the restaurants had boarded up for the winter. Nash had been right; this was much different than the beach he was used to.

  Downtown was constantly bustling, lights and noise and people everywhere. The only word to describe this boardwalk was quaint. There was even a little tea shop in a converted house at the end of the street. The outside was painted pink, and angels hung in the window.

  They walked together, Ford’s right hand buried in the pocket of his jacket, his left enveloped in the warmth of Nash’s. They didn’t speak, just let the sound of the water fill the quiet. Ford shivered, the coolness of the night slipping down the back of his neck.

  “Cold?” Nash asked.

  “Not too much,” Ford replied.

  Despite his denial, Nash pulled him off the boardwalk and across the street to a café. Ford imagined the outdoor patio would be busy in the summer, but now the chairs were leaned against the tables, and the umbrellas were closed up tight.

  They went inside, and Nash ordered for both of them from a barista he seemed to know. It was a small town, Ford supposed, and the two of them chatted while she prepared their drinks.

  The hazelnut-flavored hot cocoa was decadent as Ford sipped it a moment later. The mountain of whipped cream and swirl of chocolate sauce the girl had added to the top made it that much more delicious, and Ford didn’t know if anything would ever taste this good again.

  They took their drinks to go, and Ford held his in both hands, warming his fingertips as they crossed the street back toward the beach. The pier was halfway down the promenade. Even though Ford was seeing it with his own eyes, it didn’t look real. The night sky served as a backdrop, saturated in deep blues and purples, and the silver reflection of the moon sliced through the inky water toward the beach.

  The wooden structure str
etched out into the shallow water, lit up with light-lined archways down the entire length. Other than one couple who stood at the end, staring off toward the islands in the distance, the pier was completely abandoned. Ford felt the uneven boards under his feet as they walked toward the point. The heft and age of them reminded him of the railway ties from the tracks that ran alongside the boardwalk.

  They reached the end, and the other couple had apparently decided to turn back. Nash took Ford’s empty cup from him, then tossed it with his own into the garbage bin tucked in the corner.

  They were alone on the pier, and it felt like they were the only people on earth. They were surrounded by sea and sky, and then there was nothing but Nash as he pulled him in close. Ford tucked his hands inside Nash’s jacket, burrowing into him, holding him tight.

  The night had been a lot to process, and Ford felt like if he didn’t hold on, he’d be running in the other direction.

  Chapter Twenty

  “YOU’RE BACK! I’m so happy you’re back,” Amanda exclaimed, running over and throwing her arms around him. “I was terrified you’d been made a better offer from some other hospital and you’d left us forever.”

  “That’s a little dramatic,” Ford said. “I needed some time off to get my head together, that’s all. Nice to know I was missed, though.”

  Nash had been entirely right. Having a little space from work had been good for him. Even now, stepping into the ER, it felt a little surreal, like there were ghosts that hadn’t quite moved on. He knew the feeling would fade. He just needed to give it time.

  He was glad to be back, knowing work would provide adequate distraction from the tumultuous feelings he had about Nash. Since he’d taken Ford home for dinner, things had been somewhat tense between them. Ford was fully aware that the fault rested entirely with him.

  The more he’d thought about it, the more freaked out he became. That first night, when Ford had allowed things to move past the easy platonic relationship he’d been hoping to keep, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t let things get too serious. And here they were, a month later, and they’d hardly spent any time apart. Nash was taking Ford home to meet his parents, for Christ’s sake.

  It was too much. Ford had gone home the following morning and hadn’t been back since. Nash called him, invited him over, but Ford told him he wanted to make sure he was well rested for his return to work. It had been a lie, and they’d both known it, but Ford couldn’t deal and he needed space.

  The true kick in the balls was how much he missed Nash after only three days. Hell, he missed him that first night. He was so fucked. It was happening all over again. He could feel himself falling. He was so incredibly stupid.

  “You were missed like you wouldn’t believe,” Amanda said, bringing Ford out of his inner musings. “This place isn’t the same without you. They filled your line with some rookie nurse who graduated pretty much yesterday. It was a disaster.”

  “Did you scare her away from the ER forever?”

  “I was nice. I swear.”

  Ford didn’t believe her for a second. Amanda was a sweetheart, but she had no patience whatsoever. He felt sorry for the girl who’d taken his place. If she hadn’t gone home crying at least once, Ford would be absolutely shocked.

  Their reunion was interrupted when Hugh Greene walked into the ER, a woman in an ill-fitting blazer and matching pencil skirt trailing behind him. Ford had never seen her before, but she had that official look to her that made him think she must be some sort of pencil pusher.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your morning huddle, but there is a pressing matter we wish to discuss with you,” Greene began. “Before we get to that, however, I’d like to introduce you to Kathleen Tamayo. She is an efficiency analyst and has been appointed by the PHSA as a consultant in order to streamline our processes and cut down on waste. She will be visiting all the hospitals in the health authority but has started here with us.”

  Ford stood out of view, rolling his eyes so hard he thought he might have sprained something. He leaned over to whisper to Amanda. “Seriously, not this again. No wonder he had his panties in a wad over me using one too many Band-Aids if he had the PHSA breathing down his neck.”

  Greene continued, oblivious to Ford’s disdain. “As some of you know, we’ve been auditing resource usage in the various departments in order to gain an understanding of where waste can be cut. During this process, some troubling patterns have come to light.”

  Tamayo stepped in, adjusting her skirt as she stood a little straighter. “In addition to some fairly blatant misuses of resources, it has come to light that some of the medications in use at this facility may have been misappropriated.”

  “What? What does that mean?” Susan, the head nurse, asked.

  “Part of my job is tracking patterns of usage and correlating those numbers with other data—patterns of usage from the previous year, for example. The number of patients undergoing procedures where anesthetic is required has been approximately the same for the last three years, and yet for some reason, the amount of anesthetic being dispensed is much higher in the last year than it was in previous years.”

  “Which drug?” Amanda asked.

  “Vecuronium bromide,” Greene replied when Tamayo floundered for the name.

  “Yes, that’s the one,” Tamayo confirmed. “There is an ongoing internal investigation to attempt to uncover the reason behind the missing medications, but if you have any information that you believe would be useful, I urge you to come forward, either to us or to the police. It’s imperative we find out who is behind this as quickly as possible.”

  “Thank you so much for your time,” Greene said.

  Ford’s stomach turned over as Tamayo gathered her clipboard close to her chest and Greene followed her out of the ER, the clicking of her shoes on the linoleum fading into the noise of the busy emergency room. Just beyond, Ford saw Peter. The moment their eyes locked, Peter turned, sidestepping out the door and into the main hallway.

  Something sharp and sinister niggled at the back of his mind, but Ford couldn’t place it.

  “Holy shit,” Amanda breathed when Greene and Tamayo were both out of earshot.

  “I know,” Ford said distractedly. He knew how she felt. The drug name rang a bell. Of course he’d known of it when he was working on the surgical floor, but something about it… he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  It wasn’t until Amanda snapped her fingers in front of his face a while later that he realized how much he’d been zoning out.

  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

  “You know I love you, but if you leave me to do all the catheters today, I’ll kill you.”

  It dragged Ford right back to the present—the busy ER that needed his focused and undivided attention.

  SIX O’CLOCK came and went, and when Lissa called in sick for her night shift an hour before it started, Ford agreed to stay a couple of hours over to fill in the gaps. He didn’t want to. What he wanted to do was to go straight to Nash’s apartment and pretend there’d never been any weird strain.

  He finished checking the ECG on the woman in bed four who was complaining of chest pain, and as he was filing the notes in her chart, he heard a voice behind him.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Without turning around, Ford knew exactly who it was. It was bizarre that since he’d ended their relationship—if it could even be called that—it was as though the image of Peter finally snapped into focus. Ford saw things he’d been too blinded to see before: the awkward slump of Peter’s shoulders, his tiny, delicate hands, and the grating nasal quality of his voice.

  “Ford?”

  “I’m working right now, Dr. Provost,” Ford said, turning to look at him. He’d never been allowed to call Peter by his first name at the hospital if there was anyone else around, and now that they were no longer together, there was no reason to think he ever would.

  “It will only take a moment,” Peter insisted.

&n
bsp; Peter was never going to let on what their relationship had been, but he wasn’t likely to back down either, so Ford placed the chart he’d been reading through onto the table, let Amanda know he’d be right back, and followed Peter into the staff room adjacent to the ER.

  “What do you want?” Ford asked after the door clicked shut.

  “I want to talk to you,” he repeated.

  “Well, here I am. Talk away.”

  “You’re angry.”

  Ford sighed. “I’m not angry, Peter. It’s my first day back since…. I just want to get back into my normal routine. There’s nothing left to say between us, is there?”

  “There is,” he protested. “We were good together. You know we were. I’m sorry I wanted to keep us a secret.”

  Ford narrowed his eyes and looked at Peter. He seemed smaller. Ford’s heart was closed to the possibility of ever being with him again. Now, looking at him, he wasn’t sure why he ever wanted to be in the first place. Maybe Ford had been momentarily swept away by his brilliance as a surgeon. Maybe having to keep it a secret, at the beginning anyway, had been a little bit exciting. But he’d let himself get too caught up. He’d lost sight of who he was, and he’d tried to conform to Peter’s idea of who he should be. Thinking back on how broken and pathetic he’d become made the anger Peter had accused him of moments before all too real.

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  “Is this because I told you I couldn’t be seen with you because you’re only a nurse?” Peter’s voice was getting louder now.

  “No.”

  Peter stalked forward, crowding in on Ford’s space. “Then what the hell is it? I’ve given you everything you wanted. I bought you things, told you I loved you. What more could you possibly want? You’re so goddamn high maintenance, and you should be bowing at my feet in thanks that I’ve given you the time of day at all.”

  Peter grabbed Ford by the wrists, slamming him back against the wall, his hands pinned above his head. The fury visible in his eyes was terrifying. “You’re an ungrateful whore. You disgust me.”