He hits a button, and lets go of the wheel.
“You’re joking!” I shout, but then I watch as the wheel moves on its own.
I look to make sure his knee isn’t moving the wheel from the bottom, but he’s not touching it at all. The LCD screen in the middle of the dash shows a map of the road ahead.
“It’s almost as cool as Back to the Future,” I say.
He puts the left turn signal on, and the car drives itself into the left lane.
“Hold onto something,” he says, taking the wheel. The autopilot disengages.
I look around for something to hold onto. I squeeze the right door with my right hand, and—without thinking—I grab onto Kaden’s arm with my left.
He shoots me a look, hesitates, and then grabs my hand. “Hold tight.”
Yes, sir.
He hits the gas, and it suddenly feels as if my stomach has dropped out of my body. I’m pinned against the seat, and the car accelerates forward like a roller coaster on its first big drop. I squeeze his hand as hard as I can. It feels so solid, and he squeezes mine back, making me feel safe even as we accelerate well past 140 miles per hour—if I'm reading the screen correctly.
We hit 150, and finally he kills the gas. My adrenaline is surging through my veins, and I hear Kaden laughing as he squeezes my hand.
“That never gets old,” he says.
We coast back down to a mere 80 miles per hour, and I finally breathe normally again. “You never get caught?”
“I don’t do it often,” he says, grinning. “Only when I want to impress someone.”
He wants to impress me? I realize we’re still holding hands, but neither of us makes a move to let go.
“I’m impressed,” I say, breathing heavy.
7
Kaden
I’m holding my patient’s hand. Rose’s hand. I should let go. We’re not even driving fast anymore. She’s not loosening her grip at all, though, and I realize she is feeling the same thing I am. The thing I shouldn’t feel for her.
It feels too good to fight, though, and I don’t let go of her hand.
“Do we have to go back now?” she asks.
I look at the upcoming exit, and realize it will take us to the dock on the Allegheny. It’s a place I like to go to think.
“We should,” I say.
She squeezes my hand. “Really?”
“Should,” I emphasize. “But a while longer won’t hurt.”
We reach the dock, and I have to let go of her hand to get out of the car. We reluctantly part, and I go around the front of the car to open the door for her, forgetting that the door actually opens itself. So much for chivalry.
I reach down and take her hand instead, and I don’t let go of it once she’s on her feet. A line has been crossed already, but there would still be a way back from here.
I could stop right now, tell her how inappropriate this was getting. I could make her understand that even though I do have feelings for her, and realize she does for me as well, that’s she’s vulnerable now, and—
No...I can’t let go of her hand. I want to stay near her, and I don’t care how bad an idea it might be. It’s what feels right, despite what anyone else might think, and despite how bad it might be for my career.
We reach the end of the dock, and some stone benches. It looks like it was set up as a public place for people to walk out onto the water, but I never see anyone else here, especially at night.
The sound of jazz playing in the distance reflects off the water. I point toward the amphitheater. “They always have live music going there, and you can hear it clearly from here since the water amplifies the sound.”
“So you come here to avoid paying?” she asks, giggling.
I smile. “It’s not that, I just like enjoying the music without all the crowds.”
She nods, squeezing my hand. “Some people say two’s a crowd.”
“I think it’s three’s a crowd,” I say, leaning closer to her.
“Some people must say that, though. You know, people who really like being alone.”
“Two isn’t a crowd for me,” I say.
As soon as I kiss her—for real this time—there won’t be any going back. The line will have been crossed forever. But I realize I want to cross it, more than anything.
I lean in even closer to her, and her eyes widen. “Wait,” she says.
I stop cold. Shit, did I seriously read her wrong?
She burns red, then says, “I want you to, I really do…”
Relief floods through me. But why did she ask me to stop?
“Before we do, though,” she says, “I want to know...will this be our first kiss?”
She remembers.
“No,” I say. “But that first kiss...it was a kiss goodbye.”
“What do you mean?” she asks. “I thought I dreamt it.”
“I thought the device didn’t work,” I say. “And I thought they were going to pull the plug on you. I thought they were going to throw me in jail. I’d spent five years by your side, Rose, and I wanted to kiss you goodbye.”
She licks her lips and nods. “I see,” she says. “How long did you want to kiss me?”
“I wanted you to wake up,” I say, pulling her body up against mine. I feel her big breasts pressing softly into my abs, and I grab hold of her tiny waist. “I didn’t want to...I wanted us to kiss, not—”
She closes her eyes. Her lips part, and I lean down toward her. I press my lips against hers, and a rush of emotions floods through me. My heart races as I feel her wet lips press into mine, and then I slide my tongue into her mouth.
Her fingernails dig into my back, and I pull her even tighter against my body. My tongue dances with hers, and I lose all sense of everything but our bodies pressing together. The music seems to get louder as the pace of our passion intensifies. There’s a sax solo playing, and it reaches a frenetic pace as we kiss deeper, with more and more hunger, deeper and deeper need.
I feel her hand sink down to my ass, and she squeezes it. My cock is rock hard, and through my jeans, I know it’s pressing into her soft, flat stomach.
We kiss long and deep, and the saxophonist runs out of breath before we do. The standing bass guitar picks up, and the other brass comes in, giving the saxophone player a breather. But Rose and I keep going, and long after the song has finished, we finally break away from one another.
My skin feels electrified, and when I look into her eyes, I feel completely at ease and at peace, despite how reckless it was for us to do what we just did.
“I do need to take you back,” I say, finally.
She nods.
“To the hospital,” I say, in case there was any ambiguity there.
“Yeah,” she says. “Okay.”
We walk back to the car, hand in hand. We can’t stop looking at each other. I’ve looked at her for so many years, but having her look back at me still feels so fresh and new.
We drive back to the hospital in total silence. It feels as if there’s nothing more that we need to say—even though that’s not at all the case.
I need to tell her about the accolades, about Dr. Bell, the award. About Dr. Bell’s warning to me—and Dr. Meiner. There’s so much I need to tell her, but it all feels like it needs to wait for tomorrow. Like it would be wrong to ruin this night with any of that.