The tears fall rapidly, one after the other they tickle my cheeks, as I fold down the blankets that cover his face, confirming what the paperwork already told me.
My knees buckle, and I stumble backward, moving until my back hits the cold concrete wall. I let myself fall, sliding down until my butt hits the hard floor. My legs are tucked up to my chest, arms wrapped around my legs as I rest the side of my head against my knee. I can feel the tears soak my scrubs as my sniffling echoes through the otherwise quiet room. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Holly
Ipress the meaty part of my palm into my eye, rubbing vigorously to ward off the sleep. Through blurred vision, I squint at the clock on my car’s dashboard, reading just past six in the morning. I stayed in the holding area for hours with Harry, partially crying out my frustration, partially falling asleep due to pure exhaustion.
When the coroner came to take him away, I went back to my office and read through every single note that was recorded on him. Logistically, we did everything by the book, I know that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
We checked his labs; we monitored him on telemetry for hours. Staff checked on him every thirty minutes and his vitals were auto recorded in the system every fifteen minutes. The only gap is when he got restless, when he started to pace the room from boredom. Staff brought him something to eat, and there’s a note about him beingalert and reporting no pain, and then there was silence. The next note is from the nurse, documenting that she went to check on him while I was with Morgan and found him unresponsive in the bathroom.
The doctor that called his time of death documented their attempts at resuscitating him, but eventually called it, stating suspected massive stroke. A clot somewhere had likely dislodged, traveled to his brain, and ended it all. A clot that I could’ve possibly found if CT wasn’t backed up. If we weren’t so goddamn busy that people had to wait for hours and hours to be seen.
Or if there were clinics out in the country, closer to where he lived. Maybe he wouldn’t have fallen out of the system.
I crest over a hill, squinting as the morning sun peeks through the trees. The sign for exit one-thirty-six, the exit that will take me to Copper Ridge, is just up ahead. Something about knowing I’m almost home, well, to Grayson’s house anyways, has all of the emotions from the last twenty-four hours bubbling back up to the surface.
Most of the drive has been in a numb fog, my mind wanting to think about my lunchtime meeting, the heinous shift, and losing Harry. But with exhaustion battling for control, I hadn’t had the strength to really let my mind wander there. Until now.
Something about knowing that I’m close to Grayson, to the farm. To being able to stand in the middle of nowhere, throw my arms out, and scream at the top of my lungs, or inhale a massive breath that doesn’t smell like anything but fresh air has my emotions flaring.
Grayson won’t be expecting me, not at this time. I was supposed to go back to my apartment, sleep for the day, and then pack a bag to go to Copper Ridge. But when I walked through the hospital parking lot to my car, I took a minute to look around me. The sun hadn’t risen, the birds weren’t chirping, but it was still loud. Cars. Ambulances. The incessant beeping of monitors that lives in my mind. It was all too much.
So, I hopped in my car and drove. I drove until the freeway turned to two standard lanes. Until bumper to bumper traffic slowed, and the only traffic jams were caused by tractors and the occasional wild animal. Knowing I’m close to Grayson, close to my real home, has the dam breaking, and I feel the first tear slip down my cheek.
They come in thick waves, rolling down my face, dripping off my chin to land on my scrubs. I swipe furiously with both hands, doing my best to stave off the panic I feel bubbling underneath.
And then Harry’s sweet face crosses my mind. The trust he put in me that ended up costing him his life. Isqueeze my eyes shut, letting the tears fall freely, and then it happens so fast.
The rumble as I cross over the center line.
The horn from oncoming traffic.
I open my eyes just as the grill of a semi appears, and with a shriek and a spin of my wheel, I veer to the right.
Over the center lane, into mine, and over another set of rumble strips until my tires hit gravel. I slam on the brakes, spinning out into a dusty half-circle.
Horns blare as they pass, and I keep my eyes closed, waiting for the impact.
But it doesn’t come.
I peek one eye open, and then the other, first noticing a billow of smoke in the front of my car. Not smoke. Dust. Dust in the front and to the side. My car is still idling, and with my foot still pressed on the brake I move the shifter into park.
My chest heaves, and I fumble for the door handle, swinging it open and stepping out only to fall to my knees in the gravel. Gasping breaths heave in and out, and I suck in the fresh air. The fresh air on Earth. Fuck.
“Ma’am!” a voice shouts behind me, and I hear the crunch of gravel as they near, but I can’t bring myself to turn. Not when I can still feel the sun on my face and the faint wind teasing the small hairs that have fallen freefrom my ponytail. Not while the breath is still moving in and out of my lungs. My fingers curl out in front of me, and I soak it all in. The dust, the rough sand, and small rocks that filter through my hands.
“Ma’am!” the voice calls again, coming up to stand to my side. I must look as terrifying as I feel, because when I turn to the helpful stranger, his eyes go wide. “Honey, call an ambulance,” he shouts, and I can hear the other pedestrian run in the opposite direction.
“No,” I try to say. No. But my voice is too dry. I clear my throat, reaching an arm up to get their attention. “No,” I manage to say a little louder this time. “I’m fine. I swear. I’m … I’m a doctor. I’m on my way home. I just looked away for a second … but I swear, I’m okay. I’m…” I trail off, looking around to see where I am. It takes a moment for it to register, and only when it registers that I'm safely on the side of the road, facing the wrong direction but still out of the way of harm, do I release a choked exhale. I look up at the kind stranger, trying to pull myself together so that I'm not such a mess, and I thank them again for checking on me.
He helps me up with a firm grip on my elbow, and when I open my car door, he releases me with a reluctant shrug. I lean back with adrenaline coursing through my veins, causing my hands to shake for an entirely newreason. Once the road is clear, I start my car, listening for any signs that I might have run over or damaged something but not finding any. I flip on my blinker, check my rearview mirror, and turn the car around, heading back toward Copper Ridge.
***
The tears are hot and thick in my eyes, so dense my vision has blurred, and each car that passes me on Main Street as I make my way through town is nothing but a colorful haze.
