Page 23 of Holiday Love
Instead, gentle hands grip my shoulders, turning me to him. The bed dips as he sits next to me. Sliding his body under mine, Teddy shifts me until my head rests on his chest. His verynakedchest. He’s only wearing boxers. I stiffen, my mind scrambling at the unexpected contact. Usually, I don’t like to be touched, and Iespeciallydon’t like to be comforted. I’m like a cat. I’d rather slink away and lick my wounds in solitude, a trait that has always frustrated my naturally affectionate mother. I’m surprised when I don’t pull away but instead stay frozen in place, holding my breath. Teddy runs a slow, soothing hand up and down my back, the rhythm hypnotic.
Gradually, I relax into him, letting his warmth seep into me, taking comfort in the steady in and out of his breathing under my ear. I don’t understand how he does this to me, makes me act outside of my usual responses. It was the same way when we slept together. I’m the last person in the world to have a one-night stand, but he made it seem so natural that for once I didn’t overthink it.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” I mumble against his skin, resisting the sudden irrational urge to lick him because, even though I’m miserable, my body doesn’t seem to care. It’s more than happy to be close to him.
“I tried to go to sleep but couldn’t so I went to watch some TV. Guess I passed out on the couch.” His fingers lightly trace my spine. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” I say while tears pour down my face.
“Yeah, right.” To prove his point, he swipes a slow thumb over my cheekbone, then holds it up so I can see the tears that glisten there. “You must have a leaky ceiling I don’t know about.”
“Crying is stupid,” I tell him, a belief I hold firmly. I’ve never seen the point of getting too emotional. It seems like a lot of energy expended for very little return. If you have a problem in life, then you should attack it head on—that’s always been my approach.
“No,” he says simply. “It’s not.”
I pull back enough to catch his gaze. My vision’s blurry, but I see enough to make out pale blue eyes and brown eyelashes tinted golden at their ends like he’s been out in the sun. “What would you know about it?”
He gives me a small, sad smile, one with no warmth. “When I was twelve, I watched my dad die in front of me. It took six months for the colon cancer to eat him up and during that time there were buckets of tears in my house, a river of them. So yes. I know a thing or two about sadness.”
That shuts me up real quick. Guilt digs its claws into me. How could I have forgotten everything Teddy and his family have been through? How selfish could I be, focusing only on my pain and forgetting that, even though this suspension is world-ending to me, there are worse things that can happen.
Teddy’s still talking. His breath stirs the hair on my forehead. “During that time, I learned there are different types of criers. Gwen, she’s a private crier, like you. She used to hide in her closet with the door closed so no one would hear. My mom, she’s a quiet crier. She’d cry without making a sound while she gathered together our backpacks and lunchboxes in the morning. Sometimes we’d be in the middle of dinner or playing a board game and I’d look over to find her face tear-streaked but silent. My brother Brandon, he’snota crier. Never saw him shed a tear. Not while we watched my dad wasting away, first losing his body and thenhis brilliant mind. Not during the funeral or during the lean years afterward while Mom struggled to make ends meet.” A long sorrowful pause, followed by a fierce whispered, “Sometimes I hate him for that.”
I’ve been so focused on Teddy that my tears have slowed. “Wh—what kind of crier are you?” I sniffle, really wanting to know.
His humorless chuckle lifts my head and drops it back onto his firm chest. “I’m messy,” Teddy answers. “Red eyes, snot everywhere, sound like a dying cow. That sort of thing.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.” My voice is hoarse, rough from emotion. “Gwen told me about how he was only forty-five. It must have been such a shock.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “We weren’t prepared, had no idea he would go so fast.” There’s a tone of finality in how he says that, like he’s done talking about it. I realize then that he only told me about his dad because I needed the distraction.
“Why areyoucrying, Helen?”
I push against him to half-sit up, my fingers fisting in the blanket. “I g—got in trouble at work.”
God, it’s humiliating to say that out loud.
“What kind of trouble?” He tilts his head to the side. His hair is sleep rumpled, but his gaze is sharp. He studies me with quiet intensity.
I hesitate, unsure if I should tell him the truth. Teddy will feel awful if he knows he’s the reason I’m suspended. He’ll blame himself when the fault is all mine. I can’t have that on my conscience. Still, I don’t want to outright lie to him. I settle for something in the middle. A half-truth.
“There was this patient, a guy. He wasn’t mine, but I took him from another doctor and now I—I’m.” Tears well in my eyes. “I’m suspended for a couple of months while the hospital looks into it.”
I grip Teddy’s upper arms and squeeze. “I helped the patient. At least, I hope I did.” I wince, waiting for Teddy to call me out, to demand to know who this mysterious patient is.
He eyes me carefully. “A guy, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone I know…” He trails off like he’s hoping I’ll fill in the blank.
I shake my head, refusing to take the bait. “It’s just that I love my job.” The tears come rushing back. “Now what’ll I do?”
Teddy pulls me back to his chest and makes soothing noises as I cry all over again. “It’ll work out, Helen. They’d be crazy not to take you back.”
“I can’t do anything else,” I wail. “I have no other skills.”
“Sure you do.” Teddy shifts under me, getting into a more comfortable position. He drags his cast up onto the bed so he’s lying with both legs on the bed. “There must be something. What do you like to do besides the ER?”
