Page 68 of Off the Wall

Speaking of regrets.

I brought my failed relationship up to Nori last night too. There was just something about her expression—her eyes searching mine—that made me want to open up. She was sitting across from me, being as vulnerable as I’ve ever seen her, and I got caught up in that brave face she puts on. I wanted to share too. Which is why I spent the night staring at the one wall separating us and questioning all my life choices.

Expelling a long breath, I haul my stiff body off of the couch. Moonlight’s still leaking through the curtains, but dawn’s coming soon. What I need now is a gut check and a hot shower. Then I’ll head to the hospital early.

I don’t have any cases, but I should work on damage control. At the very least, I can check on the status of this month’s purchase orders. And if I end up getting a little face time with the surgeons on call, all the better.

Come to think of it, Nori’s probably got work today too.But I don’t want to wake her if she’s able to sleep in. She must be exhausted—physically and emotionally.

So I head to the bathroom through the door off the living room and flip the shower handle all the way to the left. Count to twenty. The water takes forever to heat up at my end of the building. But maybe that’s exactly what I need.

Stepping into the shower, I brace myself with one palm flat against the wall, surrendering to my own personal cold plunge. The water pours over my scalp, rolling in rivulets along my neck, over my shoulders, and down my back.

Dragging a free hand over my face, I wait for the temperature to tick up, degree by degree, until the cascade’s hot enough to scald me. The water streams over my face in a hot, choking sheet. I lather up with soap, scrub with shampoo, but I can’t get the scent of Nori out from under my skin—or the thought of her out of my head. I’m just wasting my body wash.

And hot water.

Stepping out of the shower, I quickly dry off, then wrap a towel around my waist. The bathroom might as well be a sauna now, with all four walls damp with condensation. My skin is slick and the mirror’s completely fogged up. So I rub at the glass clearing a small circle in the center of the mirror. For a split second, I see my face, but then the space immediately fogs up again. Leaning over the basin of the sink, I peer at my reflection, but the man who looks back at me is little more than a blur. Just a faint outline of who I think I am.

Do I even know myself anymore?

Tonight Nori singlehandedly shifted my entire self-concept on its head, and I felt a true connection with someone for the first time in years. Squeezing my eyes shut now, I allow a small, quiet wish to crest in me that being with her could somehow be an option.

But there’s no way.

Nori’s got her dating app contract to fulfill and, after that, plans to stay in Serendipity Springs forever. We can’t exactly grow a relationship if I’m on call twenty-four seven, not to mention living in LA. So exploring the feelings she brings up in me—risky ones like hope, longing, sacrifice—could be disastrous.

And yet.

A fizzing begins behind my ribs, spreading through my torso, filling my chest. I’m helpless against the pull. Only a single door separates Nori and me now. One thin wall. And the tug of her is like a magnet drawing us together.

At this moment, Nori’s probably tangled in my sheets, her dark hair a riot across the pillows. I imagine her rolling over and climbing out of my bed. Maybe the sound of the water woke her. Or she could be stirring for the first time. Either way, I imagine her crossing my room to open the curtains and greet the morning light.

If I went into the bedroom now and found her standing there, facing the window, I’d reach a hand up to brush the hair off her shoulder. Gentle at first, testing her openness to my touch. I can almost feel my palm resting on her honeyed skin, absorbing the tremble, a soft ripple of limbs. Then I’d wait for her to slowly back into me—inch by inch, erasing the space between us—before I dropped my lips to her ear.

“I want to protect you, Nori.” I say the words out loud now. “Will you let me?”

The question is a low growl in this small space. And even though I’m alone, I swear she answers.

“Yes.” Her voice is a vibration deep in my chest.

“You’re safe with me,” I tell her. “Always with me.”

Her sigh is a soft breath in my heart.

I know this is only happening in my dreams, but still, I imagine my fingers skimming up the curve of her shoulder, raising goose bumps as they go. I’d be patient, letting mypalm drift across the soft planes of her cheek. Then slowly, I’d work my way down once more, inching along the bare skin of her throat all the way to her collarbone. When I imagine lifting my other hand to move her hair away from her neck, she tilts her head back, settling into the empty space below my chin. And suddenly, in the middle of the fantasy, one truth overtakes me.

This moment—all my moments—are supposed to be for Nori.

I want to let her rest here, her body pressed against mine. I’m ready to wait as long as she needs to believe I’m worthy of her trust. If I could, I’d spend my days doing nothing else beyond ensuring this precious woman is never afraid again.

Of course I realize what I’m experiencing isn’t real. These emotions are too big. Too all-encompassing. Still, my soul shoots out a message, praying Nori will somehow realize I’ll always guard her heart. There’s a beat of stillness, then she shudders in my dream world. So I open my eyes, frozen in place, as the mirror reflects a vision of her in my arms. Just a flicker.

Then she’s gone.

Was that some kind of sign?

No, Cash. You don’t need a sign.

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