“Too bad for you,” Yoss bit out.
I put down my pen and narrowed my eyes. “Look, I’m picking up on the fact that you’re less than thrilled to see me. I’m not entirely sure what I ever did to deserve this nastiness from you. I wasn’t the one that leftyouin the rain underneath a bridge,” I snapped.
Yoss and I stared at each other, a silent battle of wills. “You’re still pissed about that, I take it.”
My mouth fell open. “What is your problem, Yoss?” I demanded, getting angry.
“I don’t have a problem. I’m hunky dory, Imogen. I mean look at me. How could you think Iwasn’tfine?” Yoss lifted one of his bandaged hands and waved it in front of my face.
“This isn’t going to work,” I said, closing the file and getting to my feet.
“Excuse me?” Yoss said, his anger replaced by surprise.
“I can’t work on your case. I’ll transfer you to one of my co-workers. It’s obvious you have some problem with me now, though I don’t get it. But whatever, I want you to get the help you need, and obviously that’s not going to happen if I’m your caseworker.” I felt sick.
Was I going to walk out that door and turn my back on him?
Could I really do that?
“Imi—”
“No, it’s for the best. It’s obvious the past fifteen years haven’t been good to you. God, I wish they had been. But I’m not going to be able to do anything for you apparently.”
How I wished that wasn’t true.
“Imi, wait,” he called out as I made to leave the room.
I hesitated, my hand on the curtain.
“I’m just—I’m not being fair to you. I’m sorry,” Yoss said softly. “Please don’t go. Don’t transfer me to someone else.”
“You don’t want me here, Yoss,” I argued, dropping my hand to my side.
“I do. But—” he cut himself off and I turned to look at him again. He was exhausted. His eyes were unnaturally bright. His face flushed. He looked as though he had a fever.
I walked back to his bedside and without asking permission, I put my hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up. Let me call the nurse.”
Yoss reached up and grabbed my hand. “I’m angry, Imogen, but not with you. Please don’t leave.”
I nodded. “Okay. But you have to talk to me, Yoss.”
“I will. I promise,” he said emphatically.
I promise.
How many times had he said those words to me?
I pushed the call button on the side of his bed and Cheyenne came in a few minutes later, a small woman with an air of efficiency.
“Mr. Frazier, you’re awake,” she said with a smile.
“I think he’s running a fever,” I told her.
Cheyenne came over and touched his forehead. “I’d say so. Let me grab a thermometer.”
I waited with Yoss until Cheyenne came back in to take his temperature. He had dropped my hand, but his eyes kept finding me again. And again.
“101 degrees. That’s not too high. You most likely have some sort of secondary infection, but I’ll page Dr. Howell so he can reassess the situation,” Cheyenne said. “Imogen, you should probably let the patient get some rest. You can do your paperwork later.”
