Page 9 of The Trauma Response
We pull off on the next exit that leads to Thor’s place. He’s got to take his brother, Gunner, to an early appointment, not to mention all the other guys have to work tomorrow. I’m the only one with a consistently weird schedule that keeps me awake at odd hours. With that in mind, I decide I’ll make a loop around the city, try to settle my mind before I head home to an empty, boring house.
“I’m gonna split,” I say and turn left when the others turn right.
“Cai, are you sure you’re good?” Thor asks.
“Promise. Just gotta do something before I head home. Bring Gunner by the station sometime this week.” Thor’s brother, who has Down syndrome, always likes visiting me at work. The guys at the station love him, so much in fact, they let him drive the truck fifty feet across the parking lot a few weeks ago. They’re trying to convince Captain Swanson to let him man a hose next visit.
“Will do, Hotshot. You know how to get me if you need to,” Thor adds, reminding me he’s no fool. He knows something is up, but he’s not gonna push.
“Of course.” I cut the comms and let the silence take over. It’s just me and the roar of the engine, taking in the Denver city lights.
To think that Tulip and Jackson have been back in Denver for years is crazy. It’s a big city, so it makes sense we wouldn’t bump into each other, but I’ve been to the hospital a few times a year and never saw her. Then again, she was probably always in surgery. I never tread past the ER and into the depths of the hospital where she probably spends her time.
Bright lights and highways lead to quiet, winding roads, which eventually lead me to familiar neighborhoods. Ones I used to pass all the time when heading to hang out with my two childhood friends. When I approach their old street I hesitate. It’s late. Too late to drop in on Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore without them expecting me first. Even if I did stop by, there’s no guarantee Tulip is still staying with them while she recovers, and I have no idea where she lives now. I could always check the run reports and get her address, but if she wanted to see me, wouldn’t she have come by the station again? Called me there? Reached out in some way?
“What am I doing?” I ask myself and turn down a side street headed back home. If anything, she’s happy I was a familiar face after her accident and she’s ready to move on with her life. Things change. Time changes people, and just because Jackson said he wanted to reconnect doesn’t mean things will be like they used to be. Wanting something and following through are two different things. I should know. I wanted Tallulah Whitmore to be my girlfriend foryears,but following through with asking her out went nowhere.
Those baby blue eyes are destined to gaze upon someone else with love and adoration, no doubt, and I’m not so sure my heart should get tangled up in the competition. With that in mind, I pull the throttle and pretend, just this once, that I’m as happy as the guys think I am.
But even the group funny guy has down days, and I have a feeling I’m in for a few of them while my heart gets over Whits all over again.
Chapter five
Present day…
Banging on my front door wakes me from a late morning slumber. Okay, it’s well past noon, but I can’t find it in me to care. I was up late last night doom-scrolling every social media outlet I could find until I fell asleep.Sleep.The elusive creature seems to enjoy keeping me up all hours of the night, only to pounce just before dawn. The cycle repeats until I crash for days at a time.
I groan and throw the covers back. If it’s another kid trying to sell me chocolate, popcorn, or cookies I’ll scream. Although the last box I bought was pretty good. Another pounding followed by my brother’s voice annoys me more than unsolicited sugar suppliers. At least they leave after I throw money at them.
“Tulip, answer the door,” Jackson says, his tone similar to our father’s. Well, I’m grown and he can’t tell me what to do.
I shuffle down the hallway until I reach the door, pause to consider whether I feel like dealing with him, then decide it’s probably best to get it over with or he won’t go away. As I open the door, I glance around my home. It’s disgusting, to put it mildly. Every chore seems more daunting than the last, and they pile up while I try to accommodate for the lack of feeling in my hand. Sometimes it’s easier to ignore the issue and hope it goes away rather than suffer through the pain and frustration of working through it.
“What is that smell?” Jackson asks and covers his nose when I open the door wide. “Are you cooking something?”
“Very funny. It’s the trash. I emptied out the fridge yesterday and forgot to take the bag out. What do you want, Jax?” I put my hand on my hip and lean on the door, hoping to convey that I do not want visitors right now.
My brother looks me over, top to bottom, blinks a few times, and peers over my shoulder. “Uh, we haven’t heard from you in almost a week, Tulip. Mom and Dad are worried, Deni thinks you forgot your weekly coffee date with her, and…for the love of all that’s holy, sis, your house is an abomination. What is going on?”
“It’smyhouse. What’s it to you?”
“Tulip, it’s disgusting.”
With a heavy sigh, I wave over the living room and try to ignore that he’s completely right. “So I need to declutter a bit. I’ll get to it. I’m supposed to berecovering, remember?” I step back and let him in, though he seems to be seriously reconsidering entering what he has deemed an abomination. From the curl of his lip, I think he’s one pile of clothing or dishes away from having my place condemned.
He enters and peeks into the kitchen before grumbling something to himself. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come back here. You can’t do anything, can you? It hurts too much, thingsare getting out of control, and as usual, you don’t want to ask for help.”
“I’m fine. I can’t live with our parents forever. I’ll hire a maid and—”
“A maid? Amaid?Tulip, you look like you haven’t showered in a week! It’s going to take a decontamination team to clean up this house!” His screeching is like nails on a chalkboard. “You don’t have to go back to Mom and Dad’s, but you really should come stay with Deni and me for a while.”
It’s not a suggestion. His tone indicates he’s willing to throw me over his shoulder and haul me to his house, where my sister-in-law—whom I dearly love—will dote over me until I no longer enjoy being in her presence. I want to be left alone. In peace. Quiet. Where I can wallow in self-pity and drain my savings account since I don’t have a job, will never perform surgery again, and have no clue what else I might be good at.
“The last thing I need is more pity. So I’ve been a little slow getting to things. It doesn’t matter.” I shrug it off and look around again, noting the stacks of pizza boxes in the corner. I probably do need to clean. It’s the sort of gross that grows mold. The super toxic kind that kills people.
Jackson groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry the tests didn’t come back with positive news, but it’s not like you can’t practice medicine at all. You can still be a doctor. You’ll just have to find another field that you’re passionate about and things will work out.”
“Yeah? How would you feel if you could no longer practice…What is it again? Patent law? How stimulating.” I’m jabbing now, but if he’s going to come to my home and judge me, then he gets what he gets. Right now, it’s a big sister on the verge of turning into a feral cat if he curls that lip one more time.
