Page 82 of The Catch

Josh rolled to his right, unfastening his seatbelt without opening his eyes. She rushed to meet him as he opened the door, offering her arm to lean on. To her mild surprise, he took it, letting her walk him into the building and to one of three empty chairs in the waiting room. Naturally, with the holidays being the least convenient time for a medical emergency, the room was full.

When she came back from the check-in desk with a clipboard and stack of paperwork, he straightened in his seat like he’d suddenly come back to life. “You don’t have to stay,” he said. “I’m sure this will take a while, and by the time I’m done, Shawn will be out of work and he can come pick me up.”

Cat’s stomach twisted at being dismissed. She’d had her heart set on an hour of his time, and she couldn’t settle for any less. “I’ll stay,” she said. His eyes closed again, and she wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or exasperation. “Please, Josh. I want to stay.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice barely louder than a breath. “Thank you.”

The wait was shorter than they expected. A nurse came to gather them, leading them down a hallway and into an exam area separated by curtains. Josh hoisted himself up onto the cot with noticeable effort, and the nurse quickly took his vital signs, typing furiously on a little portable computer as she inquired about his symptoms.

“When did the cough start?” she asked, without looking up from the screen.

Josh glanced in Cat’s direction, and she was sure his mind was revisiting that night outside the restaurant, just like hers was. “A little over two weeks ago.”

Two weeks.It felt like an eternity since she’d last kissed him, last heard him laugh. Had it really only been two weeks?

“Other symptoms?”

“Chest pain,” he replied with an audible wheeze. “Headache.”

“Fever,” Cat jumped in. “Loss of appetite.” She remembered him barely touching his meal at the restaurant that night and looking at him now, his face looked thin.

“I’ll check his temp in a moment,” the nurse said, clearly uninterested in the help. She typed a few more notes then turned to gather supplies from the small rolling cart beside her. By this time, Josh was shivering hard enough that Cat could see the tremors in his body.

“Can we get him a blanket or something?” Cat asked, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him.

“I’ll have someone bring one in. Open up.” After she’d stuck a thermometer in his mouth and clamped the plastic O2 meter on his finger, she busied herself watching the second hand of her watch. “Mmm,” she said, plucking it out with the same lack of tenderness “I don’t like that fever, and I can hear your breathing from here. The doctor will probably want to run some tests. Settle in. It will be a while.”

“Blanket,” Cat called after her as she wrenched the curtain shut and disappeared.

“She was pleasant,” Josh muttered when she was out of earshot.

“They’ve got a full house.” Though Cat had to agree, the woman’s bedside manner needed some work. He was obviously feeling miserable. “Go ahead and lie down. I’m sure you have time to kill.”

“I’m all right.”

“Josh. You need to rest. I’ll wake you up when the doctor comes in.”

A painful-sounding cough took over his emerging stubbornness, and he gave up. He stretched out on the bed then tossed onto his side, bringing his knees up toward his stomach. He flipped the pillow over, then rolled to his other side. Cat stood at the foot of the bed, wishing she could help somehow. Finally, he seemed to settle on a position, and his eyes slipped closed.

“You cut your hair,” he said, his face smooshed against the stiff, white pillow.

Cat reached up to finger the strands that now brushed just above her shoulder, watching him breathe in shallow little spurts. She’d gone right before Christmas, and despite Sonya telling her not to do anything rash, she’d chopped five inches off in a fit of self-pity. Josh loved her hair.

“Just a little.” Her voice came out a whisper, a shaky, fragile thing. Now that they were together in an enclosed space, with nothing to do but wait, the distance between them felt like another presence in the room. She’d wanted to come. When he called her that afternoon, her hopeful heart sang, but being here with him now was harder than she thought it would be. It had been weeks since she’d rested in his arms, or felt his warmth curled behind her in bed, and she missed him with her entire body. Being a foot away and not being able to touch him was excruciating. She wanted to crawl up beside him and hold him, stroke her fingers through his hair. That always soothed him. She could make him fall asleep in two minutes by scratching her nails along his scalp.

She stole a glance at his wristwatch, finding that only a few minutes had passed since they’d been told to settle in. There had to be something she could do. She had no idea what to say, or even what to feel, but doing was easier. She’d always been a doer.

He still had his tie on from the ground-breaking ceremony, and she came around to the side of the bed, leaning in to loosen it for him. He grunted his approval, so she moved on to his collar, unbuttoning the top few buttons. The sensuality of the gesture caused her heart to lurch again. She’d done it so many times before under different circumstances.

His neck and chest were damp from his fever, his cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. The nurse still hadn’t come back with a blanket, so she unwrapped the big scarf she wore and draped it over his shoulder, fighting the urge to run her hand over his hair. Instead, she dropped into the plastic chair in the corner of their tiny space and watched him.

“It’s like eating your mom’s ghost pepper enchiladas,” he mumbled without looking at her. “My whole body is on fire.”

She managed a laugh, though the thought made her want to cry. “She made them for Christmas Eve,” she said. “You wouldn’t have been able to stand them.”

“Probably not.”

Chancing rejection, she pulled the chair closer to the side of the cot and touched his sleeve, fingering the button at his wrist. “Where did you go?”

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