I stepped closer to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder … but at the last second, I followed my gut and slid my hand into his.
His palm flinched, startled fingers contracting. Abort mission!
But when I tried to retreat, his fingertips tightened, realigning my hand to interlace our fingers. His pulse raced where our wrists touched.
I couldn’t explain why I reached for him. Maybe it was because Mallory had done it for me. Maybe it was the stillness of the hospital. Maybe it was the impropriety of being alone with him. All I knew was that he needed comfort.
His coarse voice pierced the silence. “Is he …?”
“He’ll have scarring and mobility issues, and need cardiac rehab.” But this wasn’t just any patient; this was his dad, my Bruce. “Already, he’s not as pale.”
“This is … better?” he blinked, assessing his father’s complexion.
“He was making jokes before, flirting with your mom as usual.” His lip lifted as his thumb traced a circle on the back of my hand. “He’s on morphine to make breathing and sleeping easier, but I bet he’ll be back on the slopes outskiing us next year.”
Alexander snickered. “He’ll never outski me.”
“Just me, I guess.”
His neck swiveled.
On the phone, my proximity to his dad had been explained by the ribbon cutting. In the hallway, I’d been a staff member gatekeeping his access. But with this look, it felt like he was seeing me for the first time. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. “He took you skiing?”
“Yeah, we stayed at the cabin. I slept in your bed up in the attic.”
Footsteps echoed behind us. I attempted to pull away my hand, but his grip tightened.
“Alright, lovebirds,” Carla said. “Nocturnal visiting hours are over.”
As I twisted to peer at Carla between our shoulders, a facade of arrogance snapped over Alexander’s features like a welder’s mask, shuttering off any vulnerability.
“Thanks for making an exception for us.” I smiled at Carla.
“For you,” she pointed a scolding finger. “Don’t make it a habit.”
Alexander looked down in confusion at our interlaced hands, my olive skin against his pale fingers. When he tugged, I stumbled a few steps until I lengthened my stride to match his pace. He retrieved his luggage and briefcase, which he’d left at the nurses’ station with the implicit expectation that Carla would hold them like a hotel concierge.
I finally extricated my hand. “You should go home, your mom will want to see you.” Knowing Helen’s sensitive emotions, she’d probably want to cry into his giant chest, but she’d resist because he'd be too stoic.
His lips pressed into a tight line, opening his phone’s ride share app. I should have let him order an Uber, I really should have … “I’ll give you a ride. That’s what friends do.”
What was I doing, offering a ride to a man I’d met twenty minutes ago? The two of us alone in my car in the middle of the night? I knew his family, I didn’t know him.
At least I had Carla as a witness. If they found my body in a dumpster, she could give the sketch artist a description: Batman-era Christian Bale meets Chris Pine without the weird lips. All the female detectives would volunteer to work the case.
He glanced up from the screen, brow raised. “You think we’re friends.”
“I mean, I’m friends with your sister, and —”
“So by the transitive property of inequality, if I’m her brother, and you’re her friend, that makes you … mine.” Only a lawyer would use words that big this late at night, and his logic made my head spin. He sighed in resignation. “Fine, you can drive me.”
I loudly announced to Carla that I’d be back at 8am sharp tomorrow — or later today, I guess — and told Alexander to meet me in the lobby, but instead he followed me to the pediatric ward. Flicking my badge at my office door, I grabbed my coat and purse and wrapped my scarf around my neck, a hand-knit gift from my favorite patient’s grandma.
When I re-emerged, I froze.
He glared at the sensory room door, tied with the wilted red ribbon. His nostrils flared as he prowled forward, clenched his fingers around the bow and tugged. The fabric snapped and drifted lazily to the floor.
Guess we didn’t need those enormous ceremonial scissors.
“Well, that’s done,” he said, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. What a gentleman.
The heat of his fingertips warming my back through my coat. The only sounds in the hallway were the roll of his suitcase, the clip of his polished wingtips, and the click of my heeled boots.
I should have felt scared, walking in the middle of the night with an unknown man … but I didn’t. Usually I was on high alert, avoiding staying out too late, texting Mallory every location on the rare occasion I dated.
But this time, none of my usual fight-or-flight kicked in. I was nervous and cold, but not scared. The lack of fear was, in itself, distressing.
When you’re used to living in anxiety, its absence can feel alarming.
Our footsteps echoed through the nearly-deserted employee lot, crunching over old snow as fresh flakes swirled in the air. My old truck sat in the glow of a streetlamp, the rust spots looking darker knowing his judgmental eyes were inspecting. I waited at the tailgate as he effortlessly lifted his suitcase into the truck bed.
When his intense gaze locked onto mine again, I couldn’t avert my eyes. Truth be told, I didn’t want to. In the moonlight, his cobalt eyes reflected the vast expanse of the clear night sky. His gaze held galaxies, the nearby Christmas lights reflected into constellations. Scanning my face, his irises mimicked shooting stars.
His gaze lingered on my mouth, following the path of my hair down my neck, like he could see my racing pulse. I held my breath, willing myself not to swallow so he’d be less likely to notice my Adam’s apple as I tucked my chin into the comfort of my scarf.
A chilly wind pushed between us, prompting a shiver down my spine and lifting my long hair across my face. His hand rose out of his pocket, fingertip reaching towards my cheek to brush the hair out of my face. I instinctively shifted my weight onto my back leg. His hand hovered between our bodies before he shoved it into his coat pocket. He climbed into the truck and after a steadying breath, I lifted myself into the driver’s seat.
The once-comfortable silence from the hospital room now felt oppressive.
