Page 42 of Paging Dr. Hart
I say “no” at the same time that Ethan says “yes,” which only deepens Middle Man’s consternation.
“Well? Why are you here?” I demand again.
A subdued but calm Ethan leans forward, peering around Middle Man so he can meet my eyes. He whispers back, “I called Washburn yesterday and asked if I could go to the conference, told him I needed the continuing medical education credits. I wasn’t sure if he’d say yes with such short notice.”
A million questions run through my mind. “When did you get here? I didn’t see you at the gate.”
“I just found out that Washburn approved my request. By the time I packed and drove here, I was running late. I had to sprint through the entire airport. They closed the gate right behind me.” Ethan wipes away a fine sheen of sweat from his brow.
The dream of a peaceful and relaxing flight evaporates in front of me. Now that the shock at seeing Ethan is wearing off, my anger comes raging back.
I glare at him. “Are you paying Dr. Washburn or something? How do I keep getting stuck with you?”
My voice rises higher in volume, earning a dirty look from Middle Man.
“I’m not paying him, but I probably should be.” Ethan returns my look. “Anyway, I told you several times already that you’re stuck with me.”
“What does that even mean?” I clench my jaw in frustration.
Middle Man listens to our conversation with a sour expression. His annoyed stare shifts from my face to Ethan’s. The fasten seat belt light dings overhead and illuminates.
Evading my question, Ethan narrows his eyes at me. “How about you tell me why you’re mad at me. Let’s start with that.”
“I’m not mad at you. That would imply that I care, which Idon’t.”
The plane taxis down the runway. Middle Man bends forward to open his bag at his feet. He blocks my view of Ethan, so I lean back to see around him. Ethan moves back as well and says, “Liar, you care so much that your face is turning the same shade as your hair. Talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong.”
I take a sharp intake of breath, seething. “Don’t you call me a liar.” I’m gripping the metal armrest, my knuckles white. I’m so angry. My blood is boiling with it. “Ugh! I want to punch your stupid, handsome face right now.”
“Punch away. It won’t stop me from looking at you.” Ethan sets his jaw, determination flaring in his amber eyes. Then that expression shifts into a small, satisfied smirk. He adds, “You just admitted I’m handsome.”
Gah!He’s infuriating!Don’t let him distract you with those pretty eyes and even prettier words, I remind myself. Another set of eyes, another pretty mouth full of lies, had fooled me in the past.
Middle Man clears his throat loudly as if to remind us he’s still there. At the front of the plane, the airline attendants demonstrate how to use a seat belt. “Hey. Do you mind?” Middle Man addresses me. “If you two need to talk, I can switch with you.”
“No, thanks,” I sniff. “No need to change seats.” Still holding on to my fury, I glare at Ethan while answering Middle Man’s question. “Besides, that man is thelastperson I want to sit with.”
Ethan brushes aside my insult. He’s relentless, wanting me to explain myself. “It’s because I didn’t call, isn’t it?”
“How about you?” Middle Man asks Ethan. “Do you want to switch?” Ethan doesn’t even glance in his direction. His eyes are only for me.
I can’t hold back any longer. The memory of checking my phone every ten minutes to see if he’d called, of sleeping with it on the pillow next to my head, all comes rushing back. “Yes! I’m mad you didn’t call. It was five days, Ethan. Five days!” I want to scream at him, to rage, but I can’t with all these people around. My hands ball into tight fists.
Ethan blows out an anguished breath and runs his hands through hishair. “I knew it was a lot up in Cleveland. I thought you might need some time alone, some space. The last thing I want is to overwhelm you and make you run, Tiffy.”
Middle Man twists in his seat, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. The pilot’s voice comes through the loudspeaker and instructs the airline attendants to prepare for departure.
“Stop it. That’s not my name,” I snap.
Ethan continues as if he didn’t hear me. “Has it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, I hopedyouwould callme?Maybe you aren’t the only one who’s scared, the only one with something to lose.” His hand comes up to rub the small scar in his eyebrow.
I see it then, a crack in his easygoing, charming exterior. I see Ethan’s insecurity. His fear of failure. The puzzle pieces slide into place. He thinks he failed his family by not living up to their expectations. That he failed his teammates when he got hurt and quit baseball. That he failed the staff at Highview Hospital when he changed residencies and moved to Columbus.
For whatever reason, he’s making an effort to be closer to me, and he’s frightened of failing at that, too. I’m still mad that he didn’t call, but now I understand it better. After all, I didn’t call him either. I was too busy being a coward.
A well of sadness rises in me. I hate this. Hate fighting with him. I’m so damn tired of being angry, wary, and frightened. Tired of looking over my shoulder. It’s exhausting. The only time I didn’t feel that way was when I was with Ethan. I need that relief again, the calm he provides.
“You know what? There’s an empty seat in that row over there. I’m going to go.” Disgruntled, Middle Man gathers his things together. He stumbles over my foot as he leaves. That’s the second time someone has stepped on my foot in less than ten minutes. I’m not sure which hurts worse, my toes or my heart.
