And then they took her away, and everything was over. The world felt colder, emptier and harder.
“Emma.” Deacon stood behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You should go home now. Get some sleep.”
I turned to face him. “What about you?”
He shrugged. “I’ll head home shortly. I just have a few things to finish.”
“All right.” Still, I hesitated. I’d hoped that we’d go back to his house together. I didn’t want to be alone—not now. Not today. But aside from his solicitousness last night, Deacon hadn’t touched me. We hadn’t spoken about what had gone down between the two of us two nights ago. Before, while Angela lay dying, it hadn’t felt like the right time, but now . . . I wanted nothing more than for Deacon to hold me in his arms while we slept. In the face of death, I needed to prove that I was still very much alive.
But I wasn’t going to beg for his attention. I was too tired and too emotionally wrung out to make a stand right now. So I only nodded.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” It was the question I dared to ask, mostly because I hoped he might suggest that we should get together tonight.
He paused and then nodded briefly. “Rest well, Emma.”
I stared up into his eyes for a moment and nodded. “You, too.”
On legs that felt like rubber, I walked out of the hospital and into the light of a new day.
19
Deacon
I finished the paperwork involved in Angela Spencer’s death and left it with the floor’s administrative staff to finalize. Sad that in the end, that was what our lives came down to: forms and signatures.
I was almost numb from lack of sleep, but I had to make two stops before I left the hospital. Mira’s office door stood open, and I knocked on it before walking in.
“Deacon. What are you still doing here?” Mira had gone home last night to sleep, but she’d come back early this morning. “Shouldn’t you be at home, passed out?”
“I’m leaving shortly. I need to speak to you about something before I go.”
She heaved a long breath. “Is it really necessary this morning? Can’t it wait?”
“I’m afraid not.” I sat down in the chair across from her desk.
Mira eyed me. “If this is about your relationship with Emma Carson, save it. Everyone already knows what’s going on. No need to get all confessional to me now.” She paused. “And while I didn’t necessarily care for Dr. Carson’s methods or Yankee pushiness, she’s kind of grown on me in the past few months.”
“It’s not that, Mira.” I tapped my foot against the carpeted floor. “Although I’m happy to hear you and Emma aren’t at odds anymore. We need all the peace we can find around here.” I hesitated. “No, this is something else.”
“Well, good heavens, Deacon, out with it. I’m running on caffeine and precious little sleep. And you’ve got to be feeling even worse. So unless you’re here to tell me that you’re running off to Venezuela again, let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Slovenia.”
Mira frowned. “What’s that?”
I sighed. “Not Venezuela this time. I’m going to Slovenia.”
“Deacon, you can’t be serious.” Mira stood up and leaned over her desk, as though glaring at me might make this go away. “You can’t just up and run off again.”
“I’m not—” I began to contradict her and then stopped. There wasn’t any point in arguing, because she was right. That didn’t mean I was going to change my mind. “I called Erin Lopez last night—no, the night before last. Before we knew Angela wasn’t going to make it. I asked her when their next mission was mobilizing, and she told me she’s sending a team to Eastern Europe tomorrow. There’s room for an extra doctor. So I’m going home to pack now, and then I’ll fly to Boston to meet the team.”
“How long this time?” Mira demanded, her lips pressed tight.
“I’m not sure.” I shook my head. “And I know you think I’m crazy and irresponsible, but . . . Mira, I need to get away. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I need to figure out . . .” My voice trailed off. “This wing was my dream for so long. It was the goal, and I’m proud of the work we’re doing. But once the dream is realized, what comes next? What am I doing?”
“You’re saving lives. Changing how people recover. You’re making a difference, Deacon.”
“And when I come back, that might be enough. But for now . . .” I stood up. “I’m going, Mira. You’re not going to change my mind.”
