Before I can decide, one of her friends yanks the iPod from my hand and hits play. Loud.
Suddenly, Cheap Trick is blasting through the speaker, and I’m on a table. I don’t remember climbing the table, but I’m here now, and there’s no going back.
“I want youuuuuu to want me. I neeeeeeeeed you to need me.”
It’s not pretty. Definitely out of tune. But it’s heartfelt as hell. Emma’s face lights up, all sunshine and wonder, and my lungs can barely handle how much I want this, how much I wanther.
I get through the first verse then jump down and reach for her hand. She grabs it like she’s been waiting her whole life to. We’re both singing now. Then it’s her friends. Then the entire building joins in. It’s a choir of chaos and magic. And she’s right there with me, glowing.
Halfway through, I’m gasping for breath, and she’s laughing.
“Can’t keep up with Cheap Trick, huh?”
I wipe sweat off my brow. “I’ll leave the rest to the pros,” I joke, nodding toward her friends who are committed to every lyric.
“So…” I say, really looking at her now. I’m breathless for a hundred reasons. “What do you say?”
“I say…”—she smiles—“this is going to be pretty hard to beat.”
“Sounds like a yes to me.”
She laughs, pressing her body flush against mine. The contact pulls something tight inside me, like a coiled wire being stretched. Her arms slip around my waist, and suddenly, I feel like I’m being stitched together for the first time. For twenty-four years, I didn’t even realize I was just a scattered mess, unanchored and untethered to the ground. Just pieces floating through the ether. But now I know what it’s like to be held together, to be mended.
“Where are you taking me to dinner, then?” she asks, and I squeeze her tight against me, my hands splayed across her back, touching every square inch of her I can without getting out of hand.
“How do you feel about karaoke bars?” I joke.
“They’re the best kind.”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“About time.”
Chapter four
Steven
“Patient,anineteen-year-oldmale,post bicycle wreck. Complains of pain to the right leg.” My words pop up onto the computer screen, dictated, as I speak into the handheld voice recorder. Thedragonis it’s official name. “X-ray resulted,” I continue, “confirms no fractures or deformities. Referral sent to orthopedics per patient’s request.”
“Are you sure it’s not broken?” Garrett Connors, a recent Glendale High graduate, asks from the other side of my computer screen.
“It’s not broken, Mr. Connors,” I repeat for the third time.
“I told you,” Devon, another recent graduate, pipes in from the other side of the desk.
“You’ve got some sturdy hardware in there. I think you’ll be fine,” I tell him. It’s become my quarterly duty to remind Garrett that his leg is about fifty percent titanium now, and tumbling off his bicycle, or twisting wrong in the gym, or even sleeping on it wrong, won’t rebreak it. He doesn’t always believe me, though, hence we make good use of his low deductible and run tests. Against medical advice. But he’s adamant, and I’m too exhausted to fight him on it.
“Thanks, Doc.” Devon shakes my hand while giving me an apologetic look. He thinks these recurrent ER trips are unnecessary too.
“You’re a life saver.” Garrett gives me a hug and, at six-foot-two,makes me feel like a child.
“Look.” I clear my throat and right myself. “I can’t do this forever.” The underlying truth that this is getting out of hand makes Garrett blanch. A twinge of guilt stabs me behind the ribs.
“You’re going to be fine,” I say. “You’ll be three hours away next month. The best thing you can do is get established with a new doctor and keep doing PT.”
He eyes me warily, not wanting to accept this information, but Devon elbows him. I’m not his primary doctor, but I’m the one who treated him when he broke his leg four years ago, and ever since then, he’s had an odd emotional attachment.
“Dude, you’ll be fine,” Devon groans, nudging him out the front door. I follow, standing in the ambulance bay. Garrett’s eyes linger on his leg, visibly less defined than the other, paler too. I give him a pat on the shoulder, and he perks up.
