I pushed out a sigh. “Last thing I want to do is hurt her.”
A puff of air shot from her nose. “That’s what they all say in the beginning, isn’t it? It’d be nice for a guy to actually prove it for once.” She headed for the back, sending a flippant wave over her shoulder. “See ya around, Sir Bryant.”
Laughter burst from my chest, and I pressed my fist over my mouth, shaking my head as I tried to keep it contained.
But with the thought of Hope talking about me to her friend?
It made hope come bubbling up inside.
Because maybe Ollie was right.
Maybe it was time for me to move on. And maybe Hope needed help moving on, too.
White lights glared from above. Blinding. The emergency room stark and barren and cold.
Arms aching.
Compression after compression after compression.
Desperation bursting in my blood.
Sweat ran down my brow and soaked the back of my shirt.
And I tried and I tried and I tried.
A flat line . . .
I sucked in a breath against the phantom hum of the machine.
That fucking flat line.
I gave a harsh shake of my head to clear the pictures from my mind and forced myself to focus on the chart I was studying on my laptop.
Telling myself not to freak the fuck out. This wasn’t the past trying to test me.
Taunt me and tease me.
This was shit that just happened.
Uncontrolled.
While doctors did their best to control it.
I’d come to accept it was cases like this that got me most, but that didn’t mean it didn’t shake me to my bones.
My eyes moved over the screen.
An eight-year-old boy who’d been born with a genetic defect that had required a heart transplant when he was an infant. That genetic defect had also affected other organs and caused complete deafness.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t constantly dealt with life-threatening issues in the ER.
But when kids had come through those doors, I either patched them up and sent them on their way or referred them to someone who specialized in what they were going through.
Or in the worst cases, which thank God were rare in this town, a child was rushed in, already so far gone there’d been nothing anyone could do.
Twice, I’d lost a kid on my table in the ER.
Both times, I’d thought I might lose myself.
That was somehow different. Part of this boy’s permanent care was being placed in my hands when I’d signed up to become a part of this team.
Evan.
Josiah’s best friend with the “bad” heart.
But I didn’t think Josiah understood the full extent of what that meant for Evan.
Another swell of dread tumbled through me, and I knocked it down, refusing it. Seemed the more time I’d spent with Hope, the more unearthed that feeling was becoming. That girl making me face the reasons why I couldn’t give myself wholly. The reasons I couldn’t risk it.
Why I had to keep my focus on what I’d devoted my life to.
But knowing it didn’t seem to make a difference. Not with the way I’d gone running into her shop earlier today. Not the way I just kept wanting more.
Because fuck.
Ollie was right. Maybe it was fucking time, and that scared the shit out of me.
Pushing to my feet, I forced myself to leave my office and get this over with. I knew that no matter how much this was going to affect me—make me remember—I was still going to pour myself into this kid and his case.
When I stepped out into the hall, my nurse was calling over her shoulder as she flew by. “Vitals are all logged. He’s ready for you.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled before I lightly knocked at the door with my knuckle, mentally preparing myself. I pushed open the door, ready to meet him and his family for the first time.
And my own heart . . .
It stalled in my chest.
Before it bottomed out and spilled onto the floor.
Breath gone.
Shock racing my veins.
Eyes wide as I tried to process the scene in front of me.
Because there was this adorable kid, sitting on the exam table, legs swinging over the side, kicking the heels of his shoes against the metal drawers.
Massive grin on his face like he didn’t have a care in the world. Or like maybe he had every care, and he embraced what life had given him, anyway.
He wore these thick glasses that made him look like a cute little bug because his sight had also been affected by the congenital malformations.
But his eye involvement hadn’t been nearly as severe as the defect of his ears.
His hearing loss complete and profound.
As profound as the deformity of his heart.
His chart had told me he’d had his heart transplant when he was six months old. The last-ditch effort that had saved his life.
When he sensed my presence in the room, his attention snapped my direction, his messy red, wavy hair flopping over with the action.