Page 70 of The Devil You Know
Ryan narrows his eyes at me. “Yes. Christ, Jane, you think I would operate if I felt that it wasn’t safe?”
I don’t say anything. I know Ryan loves to operate—it’s what he loves the most, what he lives for. I don’t know if he’d give it up so easily.
“I wouldn’t,” he says firmly. “I only get the symptoms when I’m really tired or stressed. And I take a medication to block them. But I couldn’t handle the private practice. It was too many surgeries. I had to cut back.”
It must kill him that he’s in his mid-forties and should be in the prime of his career, but instead, he’s cutting back. “And what about when it gets worse?”
“That’s what’s great about the VA,” he says. “I can still work here doing administrative and research stuff even if I can’t operate. And when I can’t do that anymore…”
I raise my eyebrows. “What?”
“Well.” He looks down at his hands, which are perfectly steady now. “I’ve got a gun locked away in my desk drawer at home.”
I try my best to mask how horrified I feel. He’s always told me, from the day I found out about him, that he refused to live like his father did. If it ever came downto the point where he needed nursing care, he’d rather end it.
But that’s a long time away.
We stare at each other for a minute, but it’s not the same way as before this revelation. It’s not the same as that day when he rescued me in the parking lot by shoveling out my car. And then it occurs to me that in five years, he probably won’t be able to shovel off my car anymore. The thought of it makes me almost start crying again.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Please.” He holds up his hand. “Let me protect you while I still can.”
He takes his jacket because it really is very cold outside. I don’t see any other jerky movements on his part, but I know that they’re there, under the surface. He’s just going to get worse. Not if, but when.
My boots are still useless. My feet get absolutely soaked during the trek out to my car. As soon as I get home, I’ll have to peel off my socks. And Ben will be waiting for me. God, I don’t even want to think about what’s going to happen when I see him.
When we get to my car, Ryan nods at me. He doesn’t say a cheesy goodbye, and for that, I’m glad. It’s not his style. As for me, I didn’t make a speech when I dumped him for Ben the first time around, and I’m not going to make one now.
Chapter 26
After I pull into our garage, I sit there for a minute to figure things out. I’m going to see Ben in the immediate future and I have to figure out what I’m going to say to him. How am I supposed to explain why I was two hours late?
Traffic was really, really bad during the fifteen-minute drive from the hospital.
It was such a nice evening, I decided to take the scenic route home via Connecticut.
Two words: Time warp.
Or, I suppose, I could tell the truth. It was just a kiss after all. I wasn’t the one to initiate it.
And anyway, this ishisfault. He’s the one who said he didn’t think he wanted to be with me and that he was going to stay at a hotel. How was I supposed to know that he’d changed his mind and was suddenly sorry?
I’m sure he heard the garage door open, so I know I don’t have forever. I finally get out of the car and enter the house as quietly as I can. Maybe he’s asleep. Maybe he justplum forgot that we had a gigantic fight and I decided to come home two hours late without any explanation.
No such luck. Ben is standing in the living room to greet me when I walk in. He isn’t smiling. He actually looksawful. His hair is standing up in ten different directions, his face is unshaven, his shirt is smeared with peanut butter (Ihopethat’s peanut butter), and his eyes are wet and red-rimmed. Oh my God, has he beencrying? Seriously?
I’ve never seen Ben cry before. Maybe a tear or two when Leah was born, but that was it.
Christ, this is bad.
“Jane,” he says when he sees me. And before I can get out a word, he comes over to me and throws his arms around me. He holds me close to his warm body, whispering into my neck, “I was so worried…”
“Sorry about that,” I manage. I pull away from him and he releases me somewhat reluctantly. “My clinic… ran late.”
Is that the lie I’m going with? Guess so.
