Matt
Sure thing. I’ll reach out to Leo so I’m not bothering her if it’s serious.
I let out a sigh of relief.
Thanks.
Chapter Thirteen
ALLEY
I stare blanklyat the hospital bed in front of me, the steady beeping of the medicine pump driving me absolutely insane.Where the hell is the nurse?
It’s been going off for five minutes. One of the IVs is empty and needs to be swapped. There’s a button to silence the alarm. I could call someone. I could even do it myself. But I don’t have the energy to get up, let alone do someone else’s job. I’m mentally and physically wrecked.
It’s been over forty-eight hours since I arrived in Chicago, and I’ve hardly slept.
After Michael called about Dad, I stopped by the hotel in New York to grab my suitcase and headed straight to the airport. I cried the entire drive, just sat in the back of the Uber and fell apart. It’s just been one thing after the other. Between seeing Jensen and now this with my dad, I can’t seem to catch a break. I caught the soonest flight I could and came straight here. I haven’t left since.
Michael and Stella were here earlier with the kids. Only two visitors are allowed at a time in the ICU—and no kids. I sat out inthe waiting room with them while Michael and Stella were with Dad.
He’s sleeping now. He hasn’t been awake much today. His skin’s jaundiced, and his belly’s still bloated. He’s hooked up to everything—oxygen, IVs, a catheter, blood pressure monitors, meds… even an NG tube.
It reminds me too much of when Mom was here.
I suck in a sharp breath.Don’t go there.
I’ve tried to sleep, but I can’t. I’m too worried. And now I’m so far past exhausted I’ve crossed into crazy. Every time I close my eyes, colors flash behind my lids, and they twitch like they’ve forgotten how to stay shut.
The machine keeps beeping.
Goddammit.
I push up and walk over to silence it. My eyes drift to Dad—his yellowed skin, the furrow in his brow. Even asleep, he looks like he’s in pain.
I plop back onto the sofa bench by the window. I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to be the one visiting. The one sitting with a loved one. Sleeping on this godforsaken “couch”.
It still surprises me that I became a nurse. I hate hospitals. I spent so much time in them when my mom was sick. And in the end, I hardly ever left her side. I just sat there and watched—as she slowly died.
But I still remember the nurses from that time. The way they made us feel seen and cared for. The ones who connected with my mom and made her laugh. They were a small light in the middle of the darkest time in my life. And something about that stayed with me. I wanted to be that person, the one someone remembers when the worst is happening, because I helped it suck a little less.
That’s what made me want to be a nurse. Problem is, I don’t know how people work in the ICU. It’s suffocating in here.Depressing. I tried different units—ICU, emergency, extended stay—but none of them were right. Those shifts felt like carrying a brick on my chest. I’d come home and cry, completely drained. Emotionally. Mentally.
That’s why I ended up in PACU. There are harder days, sure, but I’ve only had a handful of scary or heavy moments.
My new job’s been great. I’m working for a plastic surgeon group in downtown Chicago. I get everything I loved about PACU, but with better hours. I still miss it, though. It’s where I fell in love with nursing. Where I met Zach.
Where I met Jensen.
Which is another reason I can’t sleep.
I can’t stop thinking about him.
Mediation was intense. The way he looked. How he looked at me—the way it made me feel.
I don’t know what that means for me.
In a way, I’m grateful I was called away—not for the reason why, but for having a reason to leave. I would have signed. I was ready. I’d been mentally preparing for that day for months. I walked in determined to leave that room divorced.
