Page 38 of Fractured

THE. NERVE. The absolute nerve of that guy. I can’t believe he thinks he can just stroll into work and decide to throw me some half-assed apology. Heck, he probably only apologized because I happened to be here. I doubt he even meant it. By his shocked expression, I certainly don’t think he came looking for me.

I’m still fuming, even though it’s 9:45 p.m., and I only have fifteen minutes before my shift is over. I should be thrilled to be getting out of here. I’ve managed my time well today and shouldn’t have to stay too late to finish my charting. Thank heavens I’m off tomorrow because if I had to come back in here and see him again, I’d lose it.

I’m about to grab my things and go when my phone buzzes.

10:20 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: Kat, when do you get off of work? We really need to talk.

If he thinks I’m going to call him and listen to this dribble, he’s lost his damn mind. There’s no way I’m letting him smooth talk his way out of this. The self-absorbed asshole.

I manage to make it home in record time. I’ve been avoiding alcohol and sleeping pills lately, but I deserve a drink after tonight. I’m pouring a large glass of wine, taking a hot shower, and going to bed. Reaching down for my phone, I notice there are several message notifications.

10:30 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: Kat, please. I can explain.

10:47 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: Kat?

11:05 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: I’m sorry. Please let me talk to you. If you won’t see me in person, at least let me talk to you on the phone.

11:28 p.m.

Nick Barnes

Nick: I got scared. It isn’t you. Well, it is you. You’re beautiful and smart and I’m an idiot for not calling you. It was the best fucking night of my life, and I just got scared, Kat. Please talk to me.

Nick

Well, what’s the saying? You’ve made your bed, so lie in it? I had this coming. I’m a thirty-five-year-old chicken shit, and I fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s been almost two weeks since I saw Kat in the ER. Two fucking weeks of texting her daily without a response. I’m surprised she hasn’t blocked me. I’m sure it’s because she knows the torture of not getting any reply is worse. Each time I hit send, I sit staring at the phone, hoping she’ll send something back just to be met with continued silence. I even sent flowers to her home, but nothing.

I’ve honestly never had a panic attack before. But that shit is real. I was sweating, nauseated, my chest hurt. There were times I didn’t think I could breathe. I wasn’t worried I was having a heart attack because I knew exactly why I was feeling that way. I had the opportunity of a lifetime lying in that bed, and I simply walked away. If there was any doubt my symptoms were panic-related, it was made clear when she stormed off that day in the ER. All of those uneasy symptoms returned as I watched her walk away, hearing her voice in my head repeatedly saying,‘This is never going to happen.’

If my father knew what I’d done, he’d be so disappointed. I’d finally found someone who could make me feel like my mother did for him, and I turned my back on her because I was scared. I ended up losing her anyway, so what did pushing her away solve? The worst part, I hurt her. For her to be that angry, I’m sure I hurt her. She didn’t deserve any of it. She’s so trusting, giving… I think about that night. How open she was with me.She wore her hair down. For you, you asshole.God, how am I ever going to get her back?

* * *

Sitting at my kitchen island on a Sunday afternoon, I stare out my window. I’m glad I don’t have any plans, given my sullen mood. I’ve checked on Dad and am picking at a sandwich I’ve made but have no interest in when my phone buzzes. I notice it’s a message from the answering service. I’m on call today, so I return the call right away.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Barnes. This is Margaret with the answering service. I have you on call today, is that correct?”

“Yes, Margaret, do you have a consult for me?”

“Yes. There’s a patient at St. Luke’s with a shoulder dislocation.”

“Got it. Who am I asking for when I call them?”

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