Those rounds, following up on Ben, administering meds, and checking on test results were all she focused on.
Otherwise, she’d think of Tom.
Of sweet, funny, kind Tom who’d joked and laughed and been quite wonderful and who was now . . . gone.
No.
Not thinking about that.
Work. She’d focus on the work, hold it in for the next twelve hours.
Then she could allow herself to break down.
It was ten past seven, she’d just finished the shift change, and Trix was absolutely exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally, it was one of those days that she felt every minute of those twelve hours of work.
And she had three more days of the same in front of her.
One small miracle was that she had barely seen Jet for the entirety of her shift. He’d been focusing on the female patient, she’d been with Dr. Harding on Ben and then later dealing with the police when they’d come to investigate the car with its engine running in front of the ED, Ben’s stab wound, and . . . oh yeah, the trunk filled to the brim with cocaine.
When she regained her sense of dark humor, that story was going to be a good one to tell.
She shrugged on her backpack, gathered the rest of her things, and headed out.
Jet was leaning against her car, arms and ankles crossed.
“Fuck,” she muttered, but she was too tired to try and find a way to avoid this conversation. Instead, she kept walking, striding over to the passenger’s side door and bleeping the locks. Her backpack went on the floor, alongside her dirty scrubs.
She briefly debated climbing over the console to get into the driver’s seat, but that was too cowardly even for her. So this time, she stifled her f-bomb, backed out of the passenger’s side, and rounded the hood.
Jet didn’t move as she approached.
Fine. Whatever.
She yanked at the handle, trying to open the door, maybe his ass would get pinched in the opening.
A girl could hope.
But since he was heavy and she managed to get it open all of one inch—yes, she was strong no, she couldn't move a behemoth of a man who outweighed her by a hundred pounds all via a small strip of metal—she stopped and glared at him.
He looked down at her with patient eyes. “You heard about Tom?”
The name was a punch to her gut, and she sucked in a breath.
Jet moved, tugging her into his arms. “Yeah, you heard,” he murmured into her hair, running his hand up and down her spine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t fine, and he knew it, and so luckily for her, she got to stay in the circle of his arms.
“It reminds you of Amare.”
For as much as she tried to keep herself locked down, Jet always seemed to know exactly she was thinking.
“Yeah.”
“That was a tough case.”
“They’re not the same.”
Amare most likely would have lived if he’d had access to the U.S. healthcare system. Aside from his heart problems, he’d been otherwise healthy. And like Tom, he’d been funny and kind. He’d also been a great provider, and just a really special soul all around. Everyone in the clinic had loved him.
Everyone had grieved when they’d lost him.
“That doesn’t make this any easier.”
That much was true.
Jet dropped his arms and, no, she wasn’t disappointed that he’d backed away. She couldn’t afford to be sad at this point. It was a fact. He didn’t stay, wouldn’t ever stay long term. Still, regardless of the past shading their present interactions, Jet stepped back. Trix kept her eyes on her shoes, sucking in a few slow breaths, listening to his footsteps as he strode away.
That was fine.
He’d been nice about Tom. Friendly.
That was all she could ever hope for.
It would need to be enough.
A car door opened and closed and still she just breathed, eyes on her feet. Okay, good. Enough. She was going to go home and—
Warm fingers laced through hers.
Her gaze flew up, saw Jet had her backpack over his shoulder, the bag of dirties under his arm. “Come on.”
“What—”
Before she could finish her question, Trix was in the passenger’s seat of his car, her keys plucked from her fingers and her car’s locks bleeped. Then faster than she would have thought possible, her seat belt was buckled, her stuff stowed in the backseat, and Jet was pulling out of the parking spot.
“Um . . .”
What had just happened?
“I’m sorry I was such an ass last week.”
“Um . . .”
Double, what just happened? Because Jet was apologizing?
“I should have trusted you to know your own limits,” he said. “I was out of line.”
“Yes, you were.”
He laughed. “Never one to let anyone off the hook.”
Ouch. And just like always, Jet was able to cut her to the quick. Heart aching, she stared out the window, watching the red taillights moving past them for a long moment. The past, the present were tangled together, and she didn’t realize for several minutes that they weren’t heading in the direction of her place until he got off the freeway way to soon.
She needed to take it south for several more miles, not get off in the city.
“Jet—”
His eyes flashed to hers. “I wanted it to work between us. You know that, right?”
She forgot about the exit as irritation flowed over her. “And by wanting to make it work, you left? Didn’t explain why you were leaving or where you were going or for how long?” Her palm smacked against her thigh. “We had what I thought was this incredible night together, made plans a-and you didn’t return my calls, my emails. You just ghosted me and disappeared off the fucking face of the earth.”
His jaw clenched. “I had to go to Haiti.”
“Without a word?”
“It wasn’t like there was an abundance of communication methods after the earthquake.”
“You couldn’t have left a note?”
“I . . . didn’t have time.”
She turned, meeting his eyes for long enough that the car behind them got antsy and honked. Jet hit the accelerator.
“You’re full of shit,” she said. “Whatever happened, you panicked and left.”
“It wasn’t panic.”
“Then, what was it?”
“I knew we’d never work.”
Trix huffed. “We seemed to work damned well for over a year.”
Silence then, “That was before.”
Her gut clenched. “Before what?”
He turned into a garage, hitting the clicker hanging on his sunshade, and pulling into a parking spot before he turned to face her. His eyes and tone were serious as he said, “Before I realized that you were never going to give me what I need.”
Slice.
His words cut her deeply, gouging tracks through her heart, her soul. She’d given this man everything that was in her power to give.
And it still wasn’t enough.
She clenched her teeth against the burn in her throat, deliberately blinked to keep the tears in her eyes as she met his gaze. He was serious. He didn’t get how much it had taken her to open up to him as much as she had. “I gave you more than I’ve given any other person.”