Chapter 8

It has been a few hours since Erin passed.

I've been busy taking care of her body, making sure she's all cleaned up and ready for transport. I take pride in my work, and I made sure she died with her dignity still intact. By the time I'm done with her, she is pristine. I've even braided her hair. It doesn't make me feel any better though, and I practically sob through the entire process. I think this is my wake-up call because while I wasn't mean to her, I also wasn't very nice.

I've hated working here for a while now, and I've been telling myself it's due to my circumstances. That may have something to do with it, but to be honest, I've been contemplating leaving this job. Working six days a week has me burned out, though I also think I need a change of scenery. A change of pace. I thought the problem was the nursing field, that I just didn't care anymore, only this has proved me wrong. I still have a heart. I still care. And somehow, that makes me feel a little better. Because I'm not cold and dead inside like I thought I was.

My hands tremble as I do the paperwork and make the phone call to report the death of my patient to the tissue and eye bank. I can't even believe I broke down in front of Theo—that I did it while he wrapped me up in his arms. I've never felt more safe in my life. But I know it's just an illusion, my mind playing tricks on me because I yearn for safety. So then why am I walking toward his room right now? Why do I feel the need to get back to him? There's no way he's safe. No man will ever be again.

I knock on the door once and enter, except Theo's lights are off with just the soft glow of the bathroom light illuminating the space. The door is halfway closed, giving the room enough brightness to see his peaceful face and the even rise and fall of his chest. His soft snores are the only sound in the room, and I shut the door behind me quietly, then hold my breath momentarily as I walk closer. I don't know what possesses me to do so, other than me wanting to get a better look at him. Uninterrupted. I realize I haven't had the time to really look at him for very long, always afraid to let my eyes linger. But it's okay right now. He doesn't know I'm doing it—no one does. I can allow myself to indulge for just a moment.

I stare at his perfect face. His long, dark lashes. His narrow, straight nose. His deep cupid's bow. The way his lips look pouty, dark pink, and totally kissable. The cleft in his chin. His square jaw—and the light stubble on his face. He looks all man, yet at the same so fucking pretty. It's unfair that he's this perfect.

As I get closer, my thighs graze the bed, and that pine smell invades my senses again. I breathe in deeply, closing my eyes for just a moment, my hand itching to touch him. Just one time. Really softly so he doesn't wake up. I don't know what takes over me, but I reach out and push the hair back from his forehead, letting my fingers linger in his strands. They're so soft and wavy, and I'm lost in the moment. Tears prick my eyes, mostly because I wish I could do this with someone. My someone. But that's not going to happen, unfortunately.

Theo's breath hitches, and I pull my hand back as if I've been burned. "You came back." He whispers, his voice hoarse with sleep. I stiffen, and before stepping back, he grabs my hand in his large and very warm one. He gives me a slow smile, and his eyes crinkle in the corners. I can feel my hand trembling in his grasp, and he squeezes once—very gently. "Why?"

"I promised I would." Somehow I manage to keep my voice even, as if I wasn't just caught ogling him. "And I don't have any more patients." I grimace, feeling a stabbing pain in my heart. "So I'm all yours for the night."

"Yes, please." He grins lazily. "All mine for the night sounds good to me."

I feel the heat creeping up to my cheeks, cursing myself for the way I said that. "So, what do you want to talk about, Mr. Anderson?"

"Why do you make me feel so old when you call me that?" He rolls his eyes, and I smirk. "I can't be much older than you."

"You're younger." I smile, and this time it reaches my eyes. He must sense it because he smiles back and looks almost boyish. His floppy hair falling over his eyes makes him look younger than twenty-five. "By a year."

"Oh, please." He rolls his eyes at me. "I thought you were going to say by at least five more years. Which then I would've had to come up with something to make you give a young guy a chance."

I smirk. "Well, you're not trying very hard."

"You're not that old." He grins, and it makes me feel at ease. He's flirting with me. And I don't hate it. "If you were older, the effort would be higher."

"What I'm getting from this is that you like older women."

"Only by one year." He winks, and my insides heat. "So tell me something about yourself, sweet Bailey."

I grab a chair and sit on it right next to his bed, close enough for him to touch me. I don't know if it's a smart choice, but for some reason, I'm choosing to trust him right now—just for now, just for tonight.

He looks at me like I hung all the stars in his sky as we make eye contact, and my stomach does a weird little flutter. His eyes seem darker right now, a deeper shade of blue than when the light is illuminating them. And I don't hate it. In fact, for whatever stupid reason, I find myself getting lost in their depths. Like an ocean threatening to swallow me whole. I'm entranced.

"Bailey?"

I snap out of it and clear my throat, heat rising to my cheeks for being caught staring at him. "I don't really know what to say. I'm not much of a talker. And definitely not about myself."

"Okay, so how about I ask you questions, and you answer them?" His eyes glint with mischief. "You answer anything I want."

"That's not fair," I reply with a pout. A fucking pout I can't take back. "What about you?"

"I'll answer the same question I ask, after you answer it."

"Okay," I relent. "Shoot."

"Worst kindergarten teacher." He looks at me intently, as if his day depends on this answer, and I laugh.

"Seriously?" I ask him, but he just nods. "Ms. Alicia. Now tell me why we're doing this."

"To get to know each other, obviously." He rolls his eyes while giving me a little smirk. "These answers tell me more than you think. Anyway, my answer is Mrs. Garcia."

"Why was she the worst?" I ask him, genuinely curious about his answer. Who actually cares about why he hated a teacher? But I guess I want access to how he thinks.

"She had the most annoying voice ever." He pretends to shudder dramatically. "How about you?"

"Well, Ms. Alicia loved crafts." Theo raises an eyebrow at me. "And I hated them. With a passion. I still do, since I'm not creative at all."

"Makes sense." He chuckles. "Let me guess, you love math and science."

"Obviously," I reply dryly. "I'm a nurse."

Theo pretends to think for a moment. "Who was your first boyfriend?"

"John, first grade." I smirk, remembering how he would always bring me flowers. It was cute, and my mom loved it more than me. Though I secretly lived for it.

"Wow, you started out young, Bailey." He laughs.

"Hey." I shove his arm playfully. "I'll have you know he had the best presents. I loved painted rocks and chocolate."

"That's real cute." It was. I still remember rock painting together during recess and swapping by the end of it. He'd keep mine, and I'd keep his. "My first girlfriend was Delilah. Fifth grade. She was the worst kisser."

I choke on my saliva, coughing until I turn red—from laughter. "You say I started out young? Player."

"What?" he asks innocently. "She had really pretty blue eyes. And my dad said when you found the one, you had to kiss her to seal the deal."

"And was she the one?"

"Nah." He shakes his head with a grin. "Like I said, worst kisser."

"My first kiss was sloppy," I tell him, remembering Everett. "He tried to use his tongue on me and shoved it down my throat. Eighth grade."

"Gross." He laughs.

"Good times," I joke. "Okay. If you could eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

"Easy." His eyes light up. "Steak, medium. Loaded mashed potatoes and asparagus."

"That sounds healthy," I jab because I expected it to be a little more healthy. I guess at least he's eating his vegetables. "I could eat fish tacos forever, specifically mahi-mahi tacos."

"So you like seafood?"

"Love it." I smile, and I notice I feel at ease with him. I don't like it, but I can't bring myself to leave either. "You don't?"

"Just keep Salmon away from me, and all will be fine."

My work phone suddenly rings, and Theo's face falls. I give him a small smile as I answer it, to find out I have a new admission and our time is being cut short.

"Sorry." I touch his arm lightly, and he looks down at the contact. "I have to go."

"I'm here if you need me," he replies softly, though something has been bothering me, and I need to get it off my chest.

"I'm sorry," I blurt, feeling embarrassed about earlier. I can't let it go. It was inappropriate. It shouldn't have been a thing. He was sweet, but it can't happen again.

"For?" His brows furrow in confusion.

"For crying. I was out of line. You're my patient," I grimace. "I should've never let that happen."

"You don't have to apologize." He frowns, holding my hand and interlacing our fingers. "I wanted to be there for you."

"Thank you." I nod slowly. "But it can't happen again."

He's silent, but nods.

I gently remove my hand from his grasp and walk away, stopping at the door. I'm not sure why I do it, but I look back at him. He seems sad, suddenly, and I feel guilty for being the one to cause it.

"I'll be back later."

Without waiting for his answer, I shut the door behind me and go to see my new patient.