Page 22 of Holiday Love
I quirk my head to the side. “Sorry? I don’t understand. My shift ends at four a.m.”
She looks up, her piercing gray eyes meeting my brown ones. “Your shift is over. You’re suspended.”
“Suspended?” I repeat like a parrot. The word feels foreign, like I’m saying it with someone else’s mouth. “You—you can’t be serious.” I lean forward, hands gripping my knees. “Dr. Reynolds, please. You know me. You know I would never—”
“Your hospital privileges are on hold until the committee reviews your case.” She looks over the top of her glasses, peering down her nose at me. “No more work, starting right now. Pack up your things. You’re done.”
Done.
Chapter eleven
Helen
It’s just past two a.m. when I stumble through the front door of my condo. I have no recollection of driving home. No memory of riding the elevator up to my floor. After leaving Dr. Reynolds’ office, the night is a blur. It’s like my brain went off-line, overwhelmed by the cost of my actions, by all I’ve lost. Only one thought kept me going, putting one foot in front of the other.
Don’t cry.
Don’t cry.
Don’t cry.
Just hold it together until you get home.
Home now, the tears I’ve been holding at bay hit me all at once. I clamp my hand over my mouth, trying to hold back the emotions that threaten to pull me under. Itdoesn’t work. A strangled sob breaks free, raw and ugly, as I rush for my bedroom, barely noticing the human-shaped lump on the couch in front of a muted and flickering TV.
Teddy.
I’d almost forgotten about him.
In my room, I turn on my bedside lamp and fling myself onto my bed. Shoving my face into my blanket, I will myself to disappear. My chest heaves, breath coming out in sharp, broken gasps as I sob. The fabric must not muffle the sound enough, because there’s a tentative knock on my door followed by a quiet, “Helen?”
Hoping he’ll go away, I squeeze my eyes shut and don’t answer.
“Helen? You in there?” he asks, louder this time.
“I’m f—fine,” I say, my throat so tight I have to force the words out.
“What’s going on?” The door rattles like he’s pressing against it.
“Nothing. Go—go away.” A shuddering breath hitches in my throat, too sharp, too loud. I can’t stop crying.
“I’m not going away. What happened?” he asks, his voice sharp.
I’ve lost everything. That’s what’s happened. This is all my fault. My dumb decision. My mess and I can’t handle it, not with everything else going on,is what I think, but my body trembles as I gasp for air, unable to answer.
Who am I, if not a doctor?
“Open up,” demands Teddy.
I respond with a petulant, “No!”
“I swear to God, Helen, if this door is locked, I’m kicking it down,” he says, as if he’s forgotten all about his broken leg. I have two seconds to wish that Ihadlocked it before the doorknob twists and Teddy comes bursting into the room. His cast scrapes against the hardwood floor as he limps to my bedside and looksaround frantically, like he expects an intruder to be there, someone he can fight.
“Helen?” His voice is softer now, pitched low with concern.
I press my face to the mattress. If I don’t look at him, he’ll leave.
He doesn’t.
