Page 41 of The Exception

“Right. Um… will I see you at the event Saturday night?”

She’d intentionally forgotten about the gala for the new wing happening that weekend, and she still wasn’t sure if she could take showing up there alone.

“Not sure. You’re going?”

Trav rubbed the back of his neck. “My dad thinks I should be there.”

She nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you.”

“Yeah, maybe. Good night, Sonya.”

“Good night.”

She turned to head down the stairs ahead of him, but a different warmth lingering in her chest made her pause. Despite the turn that had taken, his words meant a lot. She looked over her shoulder to see him slouched against the wall, a hand in his hair. “Trav?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Eighteen

Trav pulled at his tie, wedging his index finger inside the knot to loosen it again. When was the last time he’d had to wear one of these things? He couldn’t remember, but by the look his father was giving him, he’d clearly forgotten the right way to act when dressed in a suit.

It wasn’t just the outfit that had him antsy. The place was too loud and he didn’t particularly like sitting in the middle of this big open room with his back to the open air. Some guys had a real problem with scenes like this when they got home—crowds, dim lighting that made it hard to see faces until they were right in your space. He was thankful that his reaction to them was just discomfort instead of being triggered into something worse the way Frank was.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t counting the minutes until he could find somewhere else to be.

The real Doctor Travis cleared his throat and Trav straightened in his seat. As a lowly intern, his invite to this event was just a nicety that he’d planned on politely declining, but his father had made it clear that, though it may not be a professional requirement, it was a familial one. Apparently Jack Travis had gotten wind that Trav wasn’t totally fucking this whole Paramedic School thing up, so he was trying on a new hat: proud father. At least in public.

Shelly pressed her hand to Trav’s forearm, the huge rock on her finger cutting a prism straight into his eye. “How’s your internship going, Ben?”

“It’s Trav,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening his Instagram. He was being an ass but he’d told her that approximately seventy-two times and he was sure each time he corrected her, his father swooped in behind to warn her not to oblige. “And it’s fine.”

He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. This dim light and string band was lulling him to sleep.

Of course his father saw. “Are we boring you, Ben?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been at the hospital or in class every waking minute. I could have caught some sleep tonight if you hadn’t insisted I be here.”

“This is what you don’t understand, son.”

Trav almost laughed out loud at the endearment. Everything his father did was for show and if Shelly hadn’t been sitting there beaming at his Good Dad act, this lecture would have a much different tone.

“You may not have to be here in order to get your grade, but look around you. Every administrator at the hospital is here tonight. While your colleagues are enjoying a pint out of a dirty glass at one of the pubs downtown, your face will be the one these people remember. Rise above the pack, that’s what I always say.” He turned to Shelly and gave her a smug smile, seemingly very proud of himself for that platitude.

What Trav wouldn’t give to be drinking beer out of a dirty glass right now. Though drinking alone in a new place wasn’t much more appealing than sitting here. He was a decade older than most of the kids in his courses, so they didn’t tend to invite him to their weekends.

He made yet another mental note to try and make some friends. His first attempt had died on impact, and fraternizing with people his own age wasn’t easy when he spent most of his time at work or with his nose in a book. In the army, they had no choice but to buddy up. It was like a buffet of social interaction. How did a grown-ass adult make friends in the civilian world?

However it worked, he was going to have to move it up to the top of the list because he was sick of shit like this and his own thoughts being the only entertainment he had.

Christ. What a sorry son of a bitch he was tonight.

He tipped his champagne flute to his old man in a mock toast to his pseudo-wisdom and gazed vacantly around the room. Until his eyes caught on the one person who might make this night worth it.

Sonya had avoided his question about tonight with a vague reply in the stairwell, but there she was, walking through the door in a little black dress and heels,annndhis dick was standing at attention again.

He really needed to cut this shit out, but damn if she didn’t look gorgeous. Her long legs looked unreal in those heels and she’d worn her hair down except for a few braids twisted back to frame the face that haunted his dreams. She had diamonds in her ears, and if he didn’t know she was his tough as nails nurse preceptor by day, he’d have sworn she belonged on the cover of some couture fashion magazine.

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