Eye Contact Page 12

  “I don’t understand.” He looked heartbroken, rejected, sad.

  “I like it too much, I think. You drawing me…” I confessed, my voice getting quiet. “It makes me want to say yes, throw caution to the wind, and go on a date with you, but I can’t do that. This drawing…how much it moves me—well, it scares me.”

  His eyes went from hopeful to tormented to devastated.

  “I should’ve never drawn it,” he said faintly, regretfully. “I should’ve known I was coming on too strong.”

  No, Vaughn. You absolutely should have. I’ll never forget this for as long as I live.

  “Don’t say that. I’m glad you did. I’m just sorry I can’t…reciprocate.”

  Standing up, I brushed the front of my lab coat off, even though there was nothing on me. I extended my right hand out, attempting to end our time on a professional note.

  His eyes darted from my hand to my eyes and then back to my hand. He paused for a moment and reached his right hand out to accept mine but instead of shaking it, he grasped it and tugged, bringing it closer to him. Leaning forward, he placed a lingering kiss on my knuckles, soft but purposeful. The sensation simultaneously lit my every nerve on fire while also sending a tremor of remorse through me. He apologized with the keen, probing expression in his eyes. The depth of his gaze sent a shiver of understanding through me as the warm and secure grip of his hand tried in vain to balance it out. I had never felt so torn before, but my mind was made up, whether it was the right decision or not.

  I was the one to break the contact, feeling the loss immediately, and I told myself to cling to the memory just as I would to a life preserver in the middle of a stormy sea. Everything in me told me to look back as I exited the room, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I felt his stare burning a hole in the back of my head, and I just couldn’t bring myself to look.

  Shaking.

  My hands were shaking. My legs were shaking, even as I walked. Everything was shaking. I all but ran to the nearest staff bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. Bringing my head up to look at myself in the mirror over the sink, I was met with skin so pale, it was alarming. If I really was making the right decision, why did it feel like my entire body was engulfed in tides of despair and weariness? Why did it feel as if I was drowning in regret, every bodily response seeming to shout out in protest?

  Willing myself to get a grip and regain control, I slowed my breathing. I dried my face and attempted to cool the back of my neck with a damp paper towel. The only way to get myself out of that state was to get back to work, so that’s just what I did. Scrubs were straightened and snapped back into place. Hair was swept up into a messy bun, and after making a swift exit out of the restroom, I hightailed it to the emergency room, seeking another patient to focus on. Anything would do, trauma or not.

  The only patient that hadn’t been triaged yet was a sweet elderly woman who had tripped over a curb in the parking lot of her hair salon. Poor thing had a cute new do with her hair dried and curls set but had unfortunately also acquired a brand new shiner to go with it. She had apparently stopped her fall with her face, as evidenced by the huge gash and surrounding bruise on her upper right cheek and the abrasion on her forehead. The blood thinners she took on a daily basis weren’t helping matters, and she would definitely need stitches.

  Declaring that she was an old woman with no one to impress, she declined waiting for plastics, and I got to work cleaning and suturing the gash in her face. I could’ve high-fived her, thrilled to have my hands busy and my mind occupied.

  Treating her wounds was meticulous and time consuming, but I enjoyed talking to her while I worked on closing the laceration. She was a very interesting woman and seemed to be excited to tell me her life story. I was happy to listen patiently, absorbing every word until she spoke of her beloved husband of sixty-four years who’d passed away two months prior. She recounted the last five years of his life, battling Parkinson’s disease in addition to Alzheimer’s, and told me how he gradually was completely lost to her, just a shell of the man she had loved all of her life. With help from a caregiver, she had cared for him in every way one could until he took his last breath with his head in her arms. As I watched a lone tear glisten and roll down her wrinkled cheek, I almost lost it.

  “Nothing in this world is more important than love, dear.”

  Like a punch to the gut, I felt the weight of her words and resolved to get the heck out of there. Not usually one to leave my mess for someone else to clean up, I simply had to in this instance. I flagged down a nurse and requested that she finish up with the woman by dressing her wound and giving her discharge instructions. I left the curtained area as fast as I could, giving verbal orders like I had somewhere else to be in a hurry.

  In reality, I had nowhere I needed to be. I walked somberly to the dictation room, pulling up the census and scrolling down to the name of Vaughn Bennett. I clicked on it, determined, entering the order screen and selecting ‘conditional discharge’. Once neurology and cardiology cleared him too, he could go home. I needed him out of my hospital and out of my life.

  Chapter 20

  Vaughn

  “This place is so depressing,” Angela moaned from across the room. “Let’s work somewhere out of the office today.”

  “I’m sorry I’m depressing you.” Honestly, I was starting to depress myself.

  “Seriously. Let’s go up to The Busy Bean. We’ll stake out a table, use their free WiFi, and answer emails until we’re blue in the face.”

  “I don’t want to go to The Busy Bean.”

  “Why not? That place is awesome, and close. We can come back here if you get too uncomfortable.”

  “Nah. It’s too loud, and there’s never anywhere to park,” I said dismissively.

  “I wish you would stop being so lame,” she replied bitingly. “You need to move. It would do you some good,” she sneered, her words laced with a salty annoyance.

  “Angela, we’ll circle the block four times before we find anywhere to park, and what good is it going to do me to walk around on crutches in the middle of a Florida summer hotter than Satan’s armpit? I still can’t bear any weight on my leg, and I get exhausted just getting in and out of the car.”

  “I’d let you off right by the door, obviously. Why are you being so ornery? Just because you have the mobility of a geriatric, doesn’t mean you need to have the temperament of one. Sorry, never mind. I just thought maybe you could use some fresh air.”

  I felt guilty. She was right. I’d been home for almost two weeks and had done very little to improve my current state. If not for her, I would probably be starving to death by now. I released a huge exhalation, feeling wrangled into submission.

  “Okay,” I said softly.

  “Okay?” she howled. “As in yes?” Her toothy grin was obnoxious.

  “Yes, I’ll try it—but I’m not staying long. Those chairs are uncomfortable.” I really did sound like a grumpy old man.

  Forty minutes later, we were seated at a table in the back corner of the coffee shop, laptops set up and logged in with frosty iced lattes in front of us. The place was full but not too loud, and I felt pleased that Angela’s idea was actually turning out to be a good one. She was keeping to herself, allowing me room to concentrate on my work, which was plentiful. I had a ton of emails to reply to that had been neglected during my hospitalization. Just as I was getting into the groove, my bubble of focus was popped by a burly barista shouting at some customers coming through the door.

  “Fine and Kline!” he yelled happily.

  Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to see what he was shouting about, but I was the only one who didn’t get right back to work.

  She was there, right in front of me. Fine and Kline. It was the Dr. Andie Fine, in the same coffee shop as me. Fate was once again a cruel mistress.

  Her friend, who I recognized as one of the other doctors from the hospital, was laughing as she rounded the counter to embrace the barista
while Andie stood aside, fidgeting and looking up at the chalkboard menu. When he turned to give her a hug also, she stiffened and gave him an obligatory two pats on the back, visibly uncomfortable. He was gleeful and loudly asking about their day, but their replies were quiet so I was unable to hear what they were saying. He soon returned to his post behind the counter and proceeded to make them coffees, which were being poured into to-go cups rather than the glass mugs that would’ve suggested they were staying in the shop to drink their selections. If I was going to say anything, my opportunity was narrowing.

  “Angela,” I whispered, tapping the table to get her attention since her ear buds were in. She glanced up expectantly, and I gestured for her to take out her music. “I forgot something at the shop. Do you mind going to get it?”

  “Uh, okay. What?”

  Feeling pressured and put on the spot, I blurted out, “That red folder of papers on top of my desk. I need something out of it—in a hurry.”

  “Can’t we just get it when we go back? Why do you need it right now?”

  “No, I need it now. Please?”

  “Yeah, okay. I’m on it.” She slammed her laptop closed and grabbed her keys out of her purse, walking out the door swiftly. It was now or never.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and rose from the table on my left foot, grabbing my crutches from their leaning spot in the corner. I walked carefully over to where she was pouring cream and sugar into her drink. As I approached, her girlfriend looked up, making eye contact with me first, and I read her lips as she said, “Holy shit.”

  Andie lifted her head from her coffee and turned to follow her friend’s gaze, surprise registering on her face as her eyes finally met mine.

  “Vaughn Bennett, as I live and breathe,” she said with the slightest smile.

  “In the flesh. How are you?”

  She backed up a hair, expanding the circle of conversation to include her friend.

  “Rowan, do you remember Vaughn Bennett? He was recently in a car acc—”

  “Oh, I remember,” she interrupted with smug delight, being very obvious about scanning me from top to bottom with her eyes. Andie gave her a don’t-go-there look, and she responded by rolling her eyes. “I’ll let you kids catch up.”

  She walked away, meandering toward the entrance where a bunch of flyers for local events were posted on the wall.

  “It’s weird to see you in normal clothes,” I teased. “I mean, it’s nice.”

  “Yeah, you too,” she bantered with a smile. “And you shaved.” She looked as if she liked what she saw. “How’s the healing coming along?” Looking down at my leg trapped within a walking boot, she inquired, “You getting around okay?”

  “Oh, well, it’s not exactly easy, or convenient, or fast, but I’m making it work. How’ve you been?”

  “I’m well, thanks. Staying busy.”

  “Sure. I guess there’s always job security in emergency medicine.” I wanted to reach out and touch her more than anything, but I gripped the handles of my crutches tighter to stifle the urge.

  “Ha! Always. Never a truer statement. How about you? Getting back to work, I mean. Everything going smoothly?”

  “Smooth enough, I guess. I’m way behind but catching up as fast as I can. It’ll be back to normal soon.” I shifted my weight, losing my balance a little, and she reached a hand out to steady me. Her touch singed me, even through the sleeve of my dress shirt. I glanced back at my table and continued. “That’s what I’m doing here, actually—catching up on some work. I needed a change of scenery.”

  “That’s a great idea. This place is perfect for a change in scenery, but I would probably be too distracted by the people watching to focus on working.”

  I laughed at her admitting to people watching. “My shop is just around the corner, so I’m close if I fall off with being productive.”

  “Oh really?” she asked as her face lit up, genuinely interested. “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah, you should come see it sometime. My studio is attached to my workshop space, and all of my materials are on site.”

  “Vaughn, I’d love to see it, really…but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I heard the words turning me down but her eyes said otherwise. She wanted to come. She wanted to talk to me, despite looking over her shoulder at her friend a few times during our conversation.

  “I know. I get it,” I replied. “But you have to admit it’s a little strange, you winding up here in the same coffee shop on the same day I decided to get out of the house for some fresh air.” The corners of my lips curled into a knowing grin. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

  “A sign, huh?” Her features were incredulous.

  “Yes,” I announced confidently. “Just take a chance. It’s been weeks.” Two long, tortuous weeks, every second of which I’d felt the ache of losing her.

  “Nothing has changed, Vaughn. Rowan has a friend who works here and she wanted to stop in for coffee. This isn’t some twist of destiny or a sign from the heavens.”

  “Will you at least take my card?” I offered, reaching for my wallet in my back pocket. “Just think about it,” I said as I held out my business card. “If you change your mind, call me.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” she declared as she took the card out of my hand and mulled it over. Her eyes lingered, interested.

  “Even still, if you do, that’s my personal cell phone on the left. I won’t bother you. The ball’s in your court.”

  “I never was good at sports,” she joked, bringing the situation from awkward back to light and fun.

  God, I really like her. “Well, I’ll let you get back to Rowan. It was really nice to see you again, Andie.”

  “You too, Vaughn. You…look good,” she said, hesitantly complimenting me as she nervously moistened her dry lips. I swore she was starting to lean in, timid in her movements, but…yes—she was leaning in, arm reaching out. She was going for it, going in for a hug, and I was ready and willing to receive it, mentally praising the Lord.

  As her right arm reached around me to rest over my upper back, her head came to fit perfectly in the hollow between my shoulder and neck. The sweet smell of her flowery shampoo wafted into my nose and I closed my eyes to relish the moment. She smelled like pure joy and felt like heaven pressed against me. I let go of my crutch to put my arm around her, wanting to never let go.

  But, only seconds after beginning, it was over. She broke the hug and our bodies separated a few inches, her lips curved in a trembling smile.

  “I should go.” She faltered a bit. “Thanks…for this.” She held my card up, and I swore there might have been a promise in her expression. It was enough to give me hope. I lifted a wave to Rowan, who looked confused, eyebrows raised in surprise, but she returned the gesture before I turned to hobble back to my corner.

  Not another single productive thing got accomplished the rest of my time there as I sat and recalled every second of our chance encounter, analyzing every last detail.

  She introduced me to her friend.

  She looked genuinely happy to see me.

  She didn’t avoid me or bail with tired excuses.

  She asked how I was doing.

  Asked about my recovery.

  Joked with me.

  She hugged me.

  She FREAKING HUGGED ME.

  She initiated it.

  And she took the card.

  She even looked like she might actually use it.

  Please, God, let her use it.

  She is so beautiful…felt so right in my arms…smelled so good.

  It was four days before I got a text from an unknown number. I opened the message and just about fainted.

  Unknown: This is me hitting the ball back over the net.

  Chapter 21

  Andie

  Vaughn: …

  I felt like I was going to vomit up my breakfast as I stared at those three jumping dots. What was taking so long? Maybe I needed to say it was me. It would show up as an u
nknown number, and he may have been ignoring me, but it appeared as though he were typing a response.

  Vaughn: Why exactly are we hitting a basketball?

  Me: Oh, wait—is “The ball is in your court” not a tennis reference?

  Vaughn: Hmm, I guess it could be, but in my mind I always thought of basketball.

  Me: Well this is embarrassing.

  Vaughn: Don’t be embarrassed. It’s funny. Maybe you’re right and I’m wrong. I’m just happy to be hearing from you.

  Me: Can I call you? I hate texting.

  My phone rang a few seconds later, and while the blaring ringtone startled me, I was relieved.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Andie.”

  My God, he sounds sexy. Exhaling a deep breath, I eased back into my sofa and tried to relax. “I was afraid you wouldn’t know it was me,” I remarked with a shaky voice.

  “Of course I knew. What made you finally decide to reach out?”

  It felt so incredible to hug you and I haven’t stopped thinking about it for four days.

  “I don’t know. It was really good seeing you the other day, and I’ve been…I guess…well, you’ve been on my mind.”

  “Wow. You have no idea how happy that makes me. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for weeks.” His candid confession made me even more nervous.

  “Listen, Vaughn, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I need to say this,” I began, preparing to lay it all out there. “I don’t know what this is or what it may become, if anything, but I’m scared shitless and extremely conflicted.” My word vomit kept flowing and I was unable to stop myself. “Can we just be friends? No pressure? No expectations? And see what happens?”

  His exhalation was audible. “I would love that.”

  The way the word love rolled off of his tongue made my stomach clench.

  “I need you to be patient with me and understanding of my neurotic need to set boundaries. I’m already crossing the line by contacting you.”