Instead of waiting for the elevator, I opt for the stairs on the way down. Stairwells usually freak me out, and this one is no different. It always feels like the walls around me are closing in and like some crazy horror movie, the door I’m trying to exit willbe locked and then when I go back up to the door I came from, that one will mysteriously be locked too. And then I’m trapped in a stairwell, left to fight for my life. It’s incredibly far-fetched, I realize that. My mind just likes to make up bizarre scenarios that I’ll most likely never be in, but somehow need to be prepared for.
“Can I please have two of the Carne Asada tacos and a side of chips and salsa?” I hand the woman my debit card and glance to my left, seeing the same old man I’ve noticed every day before.
She hands me back my card and receipt and I step aside to wait for my order. I’m tempted to strike up a conversation with him, but by the time I convince myself to do it the woman calls my name and my hunger beats any other desire at the moment, causing me to offer him only a smile before taking my food inside.
Again, I opt for the stairs on the way up and immediately regret the decision. I’m winded after two flights and wishing I would’ve been patient enough to wait for the elevator. When I reach my floor, there’s an immediate sigh of relief and I make my way into my apartment and to the living room where I plan to spend the remainder of the evening before I crash out for the night, just to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.
“If you need anything else, just hit that button and I’ll pop back in.” I smile as I leave the patient's room.
I don’t typically work the night shift, but I’m helping out this evening for another nurse who needed a swap. While the change in pace is nice, I think I’m built for the hustle and bustle of day shift. It’s probably why I liked being a bartender for so many years. The constant conversation, always staying busy and occupied. Plus, I usually love being around other people.
“Summer, someone is in the lobby asking for you,” another nurse says with a tiny hint of red on her face. “It’s for his daughter, but he’s um… very handsome.” Her eyebrows wiggle, but mine crease in worry. The only handsome man I know with a daughter who would ask for me is Chase.
I rush through the hallway, glad that it’s not busy at midnight so that I can get to the lobby quickly. The fluorescent lights feel much brighter at night and I swipe my badge at the double doors seeing Chase through the window cut out with his back toward me holding CeCe in his arms.
When the wooden doors open, I call out his name and he turns around to face me. His brown eyes look heavy and riddled with worry. He’s in a pair of black sweatpants and a Knights t-shirt. His hair covered by a baseball hat and a hard-set jaw directed right at me.
“What happened?” I ask, instinctively rubbing CeCe’s back and taking a look at her face. She feels warm to the touch.
The instant relief that covers his face when he sees me makes my heart flutter.
“She’s had a fever for hours, I can’t get it down with any of the medicine I’ve tried. She keeps saying her ear hurts but I can’t see a goddamn thing. Abby mentioned the other day she said her ear hurt, but she was acting fine then, no fever.” He pauses. “I’m surprised you’re even here, I didn’t know if it was too late to text you. And then when I got here, I figured I was taking a chance asking for you.” He blinks his eyes hard a couple times, squeezing them shut, almost to try and make himself appear more alert. “I wouldn’t normally bring her in, but the fever…” He trails off, looking embarrassed, but I shake my head at him.
“No, no, it’s fine to bring her in. Let’s get her triaged and see what’s going on.” He follows me down the hall and into the pediatric department of the ER.
Chase lays CeCe down on one of the beds, and I take a seat next to her as he paces the room. His hand squeezes the back of his neck and his head falls back, almost in defeat, or exhaustion. Possibly both at this point.
“Hi, my girl. What’s going on?”
She looks up at me and pulls at her ears. CeCe has soft brown eyes just like Chase’s. Sometimes they look so golden and warm. God, she lookssomuch like him.
“Both of them hurt?” I ask.
She gives me a small nod as I stroke her cheek.
“Okay, we’ll take a look and get you feeling better so you and Daddy can go home and back to bed, okay?”
As I stand, I see Chase is still pacing and breathing heavily around the room. It’s no surprise seeing him so distraught over CeCe being here and not feeling well.
“I’m going to grab her water and we’ll check her ears. It’s probably an ear infection, Chase. They’re really common with kids,” I whisper.
“I’ve been giving her water all night, it’s not helping.” There’s an edge in his voice. Frustration. But I don’t take it personally.
“Okay, well, I’m going to grab her a water and get a more comfortable chair in here for you and we’ll get her fever down,” I say softly, realizing he hasn’t looked at me the entire time I’ve been talking to him.
“I don’t need a different chair,” Chase says with clenched teeth just as I’m turning to leave the room but I ignore him. The chair is so he will sit down and relax for a few minutes so CeCe doesn’t see him leaving footprints all over my ER with all of the worry pacing he’s doing.
“Who is that?” Angie asks when I get back to the front desk.
I sigh at her question because there are so many ways I can answer this. The simplest and less embarrassing way is simply that I’m friends with his sister. Or, I could opt for a little moredetail and say he’s an old friend of mine from childhood. The third and much more complicated description would probably sound something like, he’s the guy I’ve loved since I was a teenager and despite trying to forget about him, all I’ve been able to do in the last decade is find more things to love about him. I don’t have the energy tonight to delve into anything specific, so option one it is.
“Oh, and you said he plays for the Knights? That’s why he’s so… big,” Angie sighs like she has hearts in her eyes when she looks over at him and the territorial side of me wants to growl and show my teeth. I’ve been the President of the Chase Hunt Fan Club for years and I don’t take well to others wanting my spot.
Chase “overprotective and incredibly too handsome” Hunt.
If I could remember a time I didn’t have feelings for Chase, I’d lock into that moment and try to make it happen again. But I can’t. Because ever since I understood the premise of having genuine, romantic feelings for someone, my sights have been set on Chase.
I met him when I was five, he was my first crush when I was ten. I first saw him as a man when I was sixteen—he was pulling his hair into a backward hat while playing beach volleyball, and that pretty much sealed the deal. I remember in the summer he would drive me and Abby around to the movies or to the beach. I remember every time he’d have a girlfriend in the passenger’s seat, I’d secretly be plotting her demise. It was always one of those harmless crushes that I think everyone just assumed would go away. It was never a secret; I was always very vocal about my feelings for Chase. Mrs. Chase Huntwas written in probably every notebook I’ve ever owned. When he was leaving for his senior prom was the first time I put lipstick on, hoping in some delusional way that would make him look at me as something more than his little sister’s best friend.
