“Adalyn.”
That voice. It vibrates down my spine, sending chills across my skin. Turning in my chair, I find Hayden standing at the desk, his eyes searing Logan in half from under the bill of his baseball cap.
“Can we talk . . . alone?”
“Oh, hey there . . . Hayden, is it?” I don’t know why I said that. His jaw ticks, his eyes focused on Logan’s hands that are holding on to mine. “I mean, of course I know it’s you.” I laugh awkwardly. “Didn’t recognize you for a second. Hats can be deceiving. It’s why so many celebrities wear them. What better way to hide yourself than under the brim of a hat. Oh, is that why you’re wearing one now?” I zip my lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone it’s you.” Clearing my throat, I say to Logan, “This is my friend, Franklin. He’s from Switzerland and knows nothing about hockey.”
“Adalyn,” Hayden says with more force in his voice. “I need to talk to you.”
I pull on my ear. “I hear ya, but I have some nurse duties to attend to.” I stand and look around, looking for anything to show I’m doing my job. Logan hands me the first thing he sees, a pee cup. I hold it up to Hayden. “Urine isn’t going to collect itself.”
Walking toward a room on the corner, Mr. Glasco’s room, Hayden jogs up to me and pulls on my arm, halting me in place.
“Adalyn, we need to talk.”
“Is there a problem here?” Logan asks, eyeing Hayden’s grip on my arm.
Furious, Hayden, talks from between his teeth. “This is none of your concern.”
“It is because Adalyn is my friend.”
“And she’s my fucking girlfriend,” Hayden spits back.
Shaking his head, Logan mutters under his breath, “Not for long,” and walks away.
“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” Hayden asks, pushing Logan to the side.
Oh God. Okay, pushing in hospitals should not be happening. Before Logan can retaliate, I step between the two men, putting hands on both of their chests. “Logan, go check on room sixteen’s vitals.” When he doesn’t move, I look him in the eyes, pleading. “Go, please.”
Not happy, Logan adjusts his shirt and turns toward room sixteen. One guy down, one more to go. Bringing my attention to Hayden, I muster up all the strength I can find. “You need to leave. Now.”
“Just give me a few seconds.”
I hold my hand up in front of his face so he sees I need him to stop. “We can talk later. I have to do my job and you’re making a spectacle. I wouldn’t come on the ice, interrupting one of your games, saying I need to talk to you. So I expect the same kind of respect.”
His jaw moves from side to side, the veins in his neck popping with anger. He looks like he’s about to explode. Seems like he hasn’t had the best of days. I’m right there with him.
Letting out a heavy breath, he asks, “You’re still coming over after work?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.” Even though I want to avoid this conversation like the plague.
“Okay.” Leaning down, he places a chaste kiss on my cheek and takes off, his retreating back acting like a prelude of what’s to come.
We need to talk.
I can only imagine how that conversation is going to go.He hasn’t made any true commitments to me. He hasn’t spoken about what our future looks like.He’s said this is the real thing, but when it came to working out something for when he went back to Philly, that was never discussed. Why would it be? Before Monday night, we hadn’t even had sex.He hadn’t been inside my body, so why discuss a future that may not have been in the cards. And now that he’s moving across the country? Why bother talking at all?
Los Angeles. New York.
How could we possibly make that work?
* * *
So this is what walking the plank feels like?
But instead of a gaggle of bloodthirsty sharks at the bottom of the plank, it’s the end of a relationship I never thought I wanted. And I don’t want it to end. I want all of this to go away. I want my boyfriend to stay in Binghamton. I want our bubble to remain intact. I want to walk into this house, throw my arms around Hayden and love him.I want him to be mine.
I don’t want to have this talk.
