Page 22 of The Trauma Response
Chantelle
Gasp! You’re supposed to be the nice one!
Kidding, kidding. I’m gonna head to bed, but thanks again for tonight.
Thor
You got it, Hotshot. She’s a keeper. I’ll be rooting for you.
Christian
Night, man.
Des
Night
Holt
See you soon.
I plug my phone in and set it on silent. There is no way that chat is over yet, but I’m too exhausted to stay up and try to keep up with them. Instead, I lay my head down and think of Whits and every interaction we’ve had since we reconnected.
My mind drifts back to that moment in the park with her staring up at me. If I had leaned down even a fraction, I could have kissed her. I’m no expert, but everything about her posture insinuated that’s what she wanted, but this is Whits. She’s never given me any reason to think my feelings for her are returned, so going for a kiss could have been a nightmare. A totally devastating blow to my heart.
I groan and roll on my side. I’m not sure what will happen but I do know one thing: I can’t stomach the thought of losing her again.
Chapter eleven
I’m already on my second book, and there is every reason to believe I’ll finish it tonight and dive into the next. I’d all but forgotten how much I loved reading for fun, but it’s all coming back to me. The joy of reading something I choose instead of for work or educational purposes inserts a little jolt of excitement to my recently dulled life. I miss the urgency and thrill of working on patients, and if I’m honest, I miss the sense of importance that came with my position.
But now, I need to focus on what comes next, learn to get over myself just a little—because let’s be real, no one needs to have an overinflated ego about saving lives. It’s all God, and I was merely the instrument He used to heal patients.
Turning the pages feels less and less frustrating, almost as if the rest of my body is compensating for the loss of feeling in my hand by appreciating new things about the tactile experience of reading a printed book. The sound of the pages turning, the little crinkle of the spine, the smell of fresh ink. It all contributes to the utter enjoyment of a book. But the e-reader Cai insisted ongetting me is also nice. I can hold it with one hand and snuggle up in bed.
My brother’s knock on my front door startles me mid-chapter. I place a bookmark and head down the hallway to my room to grab my purse. “Come in,” I shout, ready to get to this lunch we planned.
Jackson lets himself in and hollers, “Deni is waiting in the car. You almost ready?”
I emerge from my bedroom and smile. “Yep. Where are we—”
“What happened in here? What happened to you?” He glances around the room and I remember the last time he was here—yesterday—it was a disaster. Then he sent Cai over and everything did a complete one hundred and eighty degree turnaround. Like my life always does when Cai enters the situation.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? Me clean, the house clean, a sunshiny smile on my face?” I put my hands on my hips and raise both eyebrows.
“Well…” He glances around again. “Yeah, but how did it get this way? So fast? I guess I didn’t expect you to actuallylistento me.”
Shaking my head, I drop my hands and head to the door. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t send Cai here. You know good and well I’m not stupid. He showed up, cleaned up, took me out for a while, and I realized life isn’t so awful after all.”
Jackson’s grip on my front door lessens and his cheeks redden. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted my sister back, and I was afraid for you. Can you blame me for going nuclear and asking him to do his best?”
I roll my eyes and pass him, headed to his car. Deni waves and her bright smile lifts my spirits. Her curly dark hair is pulled out of her face, showcasing those gorgeous brown eyes. Once I’m in the back seat, she shifts around.
“I’m so happy we’re going out. It’s been forever. I was thinking that new place we keep saying we’ll try but never get around to it.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea.” I fumble the belt a few times then give in and use my right hand. It’s slightly frustrating but I try to smile through it and learn to deal with it. It isn’t just the loss of feeling, but forgetting that even though I still have grip strength, it’s hard to measure how much is needed for basic tasks.
“Everyone ready?” Jackson asks and checks the rearview mirror.
