My heart wobbles in my chest, equal parts fond and bitter.Save yourself the heartbreak, sweetheart.
We slide her onto a gurney and hang another bag of O-negative on her IV stand just as the OR transport team barrels in. I give her hand a squeeze, “You’ve got this, kiddo,” I say before stepping back to let the surgeons take over.
As they roll Emily toward the OR, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude tangled with resentment and pride woven through guilt. A firefighter saved this girl. Kept her alive until she reached us. The same job that terrifies me, that took Daniel from me, gave Emily a future.
“You okay?” Mark asks, appearing at my elbow with a fresh pair of gloves.
“Yeah,” I lie, my mind still trapped in a vortex with no exit. “Fine.”
He doesn’t believe me—Mark’s known me too long—but he doesn’t push. “Room three needs sutures when you’re ready.”
I nod. I have other patients who need me, a job to do, a life to live that can’t stop because I’m caught in an emotional hurricane.
I hope for Emily’s sake she forgets about her firefighter. That when she’ll fall in love, it won’t be with someone who makes a habit of running toward burning wreckages.
Because this is how the story goes—you meet your heroes, marry them, have a kid. And then they die, and you’re left piecing yourself back together. You learn to live with the echo of their absence—making dinner, paying bills, raising a daughter while pretending that silence is just peace. The house fills with new sounds, but you never stop listening for the old ones. Half the woman you were, twice as exhausted by a life that doesn’t feel like yours anymore.
19
LILY
I tug my locker open, swapping my scrubs for jeans and the softest T-shirt I own, grateful today’s shift kept me busy without tipping into chaos. So that I had no time to focus on anything but my patients. I sign out of the hospital’s secure messaging app and shut my locker, heading out. The ER is calmer now, a lull settling in between the afternoon rush and evening storm.
I weave past a med cart being restocked, already mentally checked out, when a familiar figure walks in through the sliding doors at the other end of the hall.
Josh—clean-shaved and giving off strong, I’m-too-sexy-for-my-shirt vibes.
He is standing at the main entrance, looking stupidly attractive in worn jeans and a white, snug T-shirt. He’s scanning the nurses’ station, searching for someone while holding a gigantic bouquet—an explosion of sunflowers and wild sprigs of lavender so enormous it hides half his face.
Relief slams into me first—he’s here, upright, whole, alive—chased by an attraction strong enough to bring me to my knees, and right behind it comes this longing that sits deep in my stomach and radiates outward.
For one delusional moment, I imagine the flowers are for me, especially when Josh catches sight of me in the crowd and his face lights up. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and a wide grin spreads on his face, as if running into me was the best thing that happened to him today.
I try not to drool as I approach him, but it’s hopeless. He looks too good, shower-steamed and smelling of soap. While I am at the end of a shift and didn’t even comb my hair in the locker room.
“So,” I say, nodding at the floral extravaganza, “did you rob a florist, or is this your subtle way of making every husband in the waiting area look bad?”
“What a coincidence running into you, Nurse Finnigan.” He glances down at the flowers, looking sheepish, as he shifts the bouquet to one arm. “I made a promise to a girl this morning. Figured I should keep it.”
Emily. The girl from the car accident, the femoral artery laceration. My chest does another inconvenient somersault; naturally, he’s the one who saved her, the guy every terrified girl would remember as her hero.
“Emily’s been moved from the ER,” I tell him, surprised by the hollow feeling in my chest. Of course the flowers aren’t for me. Why would they be? We’re just friends. Neighbors. Whatever label keeps this situation contained.
Josh’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “How did you know I was talking about Emily?”
“She wouldn’t stop talking about the angel who rescued her and promised her flowers,” I explain. “Not even while she was losing half her blood volume.”
“Is she okay now?”
“Yeah, they patched her up.”
“Can I visit her?” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand like he’s not sure he should be asking. “I didn’t know her last name, thought I’d start at the ER, see if anyone could tell me which room she’s in.”
I could point him to the information desk. Ishouldkeep a thousand miles from this reunion. But some masochistic part of me wants to prolong our interaction. Walk together through these corridors I was eager to leave not two seconds ago and pretend, just for a few minutes, that my heart doesn’t slingshot between regret and hope every time I see him.
“Let me check where they moved her,” I offer, unable to resist either the good deed or the man doing it. “Penny has ballet practice today. I can take you to see Emily.”
Josh’s grin widens. “Lead the way.”
