For a moment, it's as if the warmth from those few days in New York is still reaching for me, a gentle reminder of what I walked away from, what I keep walking away from.
The sensation behind my ribs is dangerously close to yearning. I exhale sharply and lock the phone.
"Don't be an idiot," I mutter, the words falling flat in the quiet room.
Lane's got Jerry. We can barely co-parent civilly. It’s bananas to think there would be a chance for anythingmore than that. Whatever that kiss was, it's nothing now. It has to be nothing. We tried that, and it didn't work for a reason.
The denial tastes bitter on my tongue. Beneath it lies something far more dangerous.
I toss my phone onto the sofa beside me with more force than necessary and rub the bridge of my nose, pressing until I see stars. Sleep would be the rational choice. But my muscles ache, and I have too much restless energy.
The gym. I need to move my body right now more than I need sleep.
With a clear schedule for the rest of the day, because I'm supposed to be in New York, I decide it's a perfect time to use that gym membership. I grab my stuff out of my locker and head out.
The two residents are still in the exact same spots.
The treadmill humsbeneath my feet, each step driving away the haze of fatigue. Sweat drips down my temples, the rhythmic motion almost meditative after the last forty-eight hours.
My muscles burn, but it's a good pain, something I can control, unlike the wreckage I left behind in New York.
I push harder, cranking the speed until my lungs protest. The physical exertion drowns out Lane's voice echoing in my head.You just never pick us.
When I finally step off, rolling my shoulders, I spot Nate Peck near the bench press. His familiar bulk provides an unexpected comfort in the sterile hospital gym.
"You're already out of surgery?" Peck says, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry forthe fire drill."
I grab a towel, wiping my face before shrugging. "You did the right thing calling. Thorson's hip was a mess. I had no idea, or I never would have asked you to step in on that."
"It's all good. I looked at the scans. You couldn't have known. Still feels like I yanked you back for nothing. I do those types of cases, I just didn't know Thorson well enough to do it on the fly," Nate adds another weight to his bar, not quite meeting my eyes.
"It was worth it. I needed an excuse to get out of there. Two days in Manhattan is enough for me." The words come automatically, but as they leave my mouth, I wonder who I'm trying to convince.
"How's Sanders doing with his fundraising thing?" Nate asks between reps.
My chest tightens. "Good. They hit two million views yesterday."
"That's amazing. What a great lesson for all of us. That #SaveChristmas Challenge really does work."
I glare at him, wondering if he's trying to guilt me or if that is my own inner voice. "It's been a wonderful experience for all of us, especially Luke and his family."
"Hate you had to duck out early. I hope Lane doesn't want to kill me."
It's not him she points her ire toward.
"Lane understands."
Nate raises an eyebrow but mercifully drops it. We trade shop talk for a few minutes before he claps me on the shoulder.
"Beer tonight? Have some things to do at the house, but would love to grab one around six if you're free? Beth and the kids are going to something in Myrtle Beach, so I'm bach-ing it up."
I nod. "That will be perfect. I'm going home for a much-needed nap, and then I'll need to get out."
Peck chuckles. "Yeah, you look like hell."
I laugh once, low and tired. "Thanks for that. I got about three hours sleep last night.
For a moment, it's nice to be seen, not as the man who left, but as the surgeon who fixed what no one else could. Still, under the surface, the hollowness lingers.
