“It’s not eavesdropping when the two of you talk so loud because you forget I’m here,” Tara says. She has a point. I’d forgotten about her.
“I can take her over to the hospital and get the imaging done whenever she’s ready,” I say.
Devon shakes her head as she blows the steam from the dark surface of her mug.
“I’ve got to meet Syd at the Children’s Hospital today at two. And it’s your day off, Jeff. You’ve already done enough,” she says, and I meet her eyes. It always catches me off guard when she shows her softer side. I clam-up, like I did last night on the dance floor.
I focus on my mug, take another sip of coffee and pull my shoulders up and let them fall like it’s no big deal. And really, it’s not. The truth is, after everything that happened last night, the way she looked at me—the sadness there, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I left the bar to give her space and recover,but she didn’t leave my mind. And when the phone lit up this morning with her name, it was the first time I felt at ease since my hands were on her last night.
“I can take you to CHOP after the imaging. My car’s in the Jefferson lot. It’s the least I can do after missing dinner last night.” I shrug.
Devon winces at the mention of last night then meets my gaze over the rim of her mug and I see her wheels turning. I’d pay my first year’s salary to see into that head.
“Ok,” she says, blowing again on the coffee.
“Ok,” I echo. Her lips are so?—
Tara clears her throat and I slosh a little of my coffee onto my wrist.
“Yup. Still here,” she tells me with a smile. “I’ll drive you two over to Jefferson on my way out. Dev, get dressed.”
I stand and head out of the room. Just before I pull the door shut, I see Tara put her hands on her hips and stare at her sister with lifted brows. Devon studies her coffee like she’s about to swan dive into it, then I’m staring at the white painted wood of Meredith’s guest room door thinkingWhat the hell am I doing?for the second time this month.
Chapter Nineteen
Devon
Lesson 20: You are not alone.
The parking garage of the Children’s Hospital looms over us, the entrance crammed with cars all waiting in line for the ticket to pop out of the machine.
“Can you please just tell me what the radiologist said?” Jeff asks again, as he pulls up another car length.
“You don’t need to park. Just drop me at the main entrance,” I tap my finger on the window pointing to the lobby, “—unless you’re meeting your friend again.”
“Seriously, Devon. Stop changing the topic.” He takes his foot off the brake and we coast forward again. Serious Jeff is so annoyingly pushy.
“I told you what he said. He said you really fucked up my ankle. Left some sort of sponge inside my body that’s causing that big bump on my calf?—”
“Do you take anything seriously?” he asks, cutting off my shenanigans.
“Yes.” Not really. Well, maybe sometimes algebra. Even though I do like that funny cartoon that asks the kid to find x and he just circles the x. Drugs. Drugs are serious. I make sure I don’t joke about drugs because I once overdosed on marijuana in high school. Though that’s a pretty funny story, too. Shit, what do I take seriously?
“I take mental health seriously,” I say.
Jeff reaches out the window and grabs the ticket then shoves it in the pocket in his shorts. He seems to be processing my statement about mental health as he pulls the car into a spot near the elevator. I still can’t get over the fact that he’s driving this tiny little hybrid. I’m so used to Kevin’s gas-guzzling Tahoe.
“Well, that’s good—about the mental health thing. But can you take your own health seriously for a second? Did the radiologist mention a tear?” he asks.
I put both hands on the console between us and stare right into his eyes. I make sure my face is deadly serious.
“In the sponge you left behind?”
He tilts his head back against his headrest and lets out the world’s longest puff of air.
“You. Are. Impossible,” he says, staring at his car roof for divine intervention.
“Impossibly awesome,” I murmur as I push open the door, step out and then lower my head back in. “Thanks for today.Seriously, Jeff. I appreciate all of it.”
