“Will you be here tomorrow? To check on my IV?” I ask, pointing to her handiwork.
“Yes, Chase. Nurse Rogers and I are both on duty tomorrow.” She follows the lead nurse into the hall, calling over her shoulder, “Try to stay out of trouble until then, okay?”
Chapter Seven
Harper
Thanks to a scheduling mix-up, I’ve been off for the last two days. Which, if I’m being honest, felt like an eternity. Sure, I got a lot of studying done, and even managed to pick up all my books and supplies for fall semester, which was nice, but the guilt’s been gnawing at me relentlessly.
And not just because Chase is probably bored out of his mind.
What he did with the IV? That was…completely unexpected. Insane, but unexpected. Over the last week, he’s shown me a side of himself I couldn’t have imagined existed. No, that’s not entirely true. I knew from the moment we met at the Sig party that he wasn’t like other guys I’ve dated. After all, none of them appreciated my confidence.
But it’s more than that.
He’s funny. Patient. Loyal. And, let’s be honest, the guy doesnotgive up.
A Hufflepuff through and through.
Whoever said Hufflepuff was the worst house was a bleeding idiot.
I’m smiling as I step out of the elevator and onto the surgical unit, a plastic tub of chocolate chip cookies resting against my hip. I nearly caved and visited Chase yesterday. I drove to the hospital, fully prepared to hijack a game cart so we could have an epic Xbox rematch, but once I was parked in the lot, I changed my mind.
No matter much how much Chase flirts, or how many times I’ve imagined kissing him, there’s no future. Not when the truth of my involvement in his injury—in ruining his life—would destroy whatever it is that’s going on between us. I’ve turned it over in my mind a thousand times and no matter how you spin it, the end result is the same.
Which is depressing as hell. Ergo, cookies.
Because when you’re stressed, what could be better than fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies? Nothing, that’s what. I ate nearly a dozen of them myself before packing up the rest to share with Chase and the nursing staff.
And, okay, yes, I ate one for breakfast too, because…no self-control.
I step off the elevator, confirming my shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes. Just enough time to pop into Chase’s room and drop off some cookies. My shoes squeak as I make my way down the hall, but the unit looks the same as always—bright, white, sterile.
When I reach Chase’s room, the door is partially open, but the light is off and for an instant, I wonder if he’s still sleeping. I can’t remember a morning where he wasn’t up watching cartoons, but there’s a first time for everything, so I ease the door open slowly.
If he’s asleep, I don’t want to wake him. It’s hard enough to get a decent night’s rest in the hospital with the nursing staff constantly checking IVs and vitals.
I’ll just peek in and—
The room is empty. Notthe-patient’s-in-Radiology-empty, butempty-empty. The bed has been stripped and there’s not a single card or personal item to be found. My fingers itch to check the nightstand drawer for any sign of Chase—lip balm, his wallet, the stupid freaking sandal that started this whole mess—but my feet are rooted to the ground.
Chase is gone.
“The doctor released him early,” one of the CNAs says, breezing past with an armload of sheets. “You just missed him.”
My stomach drops and there’s a bitter taste in my mouth that has nothing to do with the half cup of coffee I managed to guzzle on the drive over. Coffee that’s now a lead weight in my belly.
So that’s it. Chase is gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
Disappointment grips my chest like a vise, squeezing the air from my lungs.
I knew this was coming, knew he only had a few more days until release, but not once did it occur to me that he might not be here today. While I spent the last two days shopping for books and baking cookies, he was preparing to go home. Probably learning to maneuver his own wheelchair and get around on crutches.
Should’ve put on your big-girl pants and visited when you had the chance.
Chase will be heading back to Millheim with his family to recover, and since he’s withdrawn from school, I’ll have no way to contact him.Dammit. How long does the university even wait to shut off your email when you withdraw? Or maybe he’s on social media?
Yeah, because stalking former patients wouldn’t be inappropriate—at all.
