28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Beck

B y the time I get home from work, I’m emotionally wrung out. I didn’t see Holden for the rest of my shift, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.

I shower quickly and collapse into bed. I don’t know why I’m laying here pretending that I’m not about to get up and grab the rabbit from my closet. Maybe it’s a pride thing. If I don’t grab it immediately, I can at least say I tried to resist. A bitter laugh escapes me and I throw the blanket off myself, knowing damn well I’m not going to resist—not even a little.

I pull the rabbit from its spot in my closet, tucked away and hidden like the dirty little secret it is, and climb back into bed, tucking it under my chin. With a sigh, I roll over and grab my phone. It’s not too late, so I know Riley will pick up and honestly, I really need to talk to her.

She answers quickly. “Hello?”

I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled sound.

“Beck, what’s wrong?” she asks, her tone immediately shifting to concern.

“Roman came into the ER tonight,” I whisper, unable to force my voice any louder.

There’s a long pause, so I continue, dumping my word vomit on her, not for the first time. God, this woman deserves a raise for the shit she puts up with from me. Unluckily for her, it’s not a paid position. “He cut his hand, and I had to stitch him up. I think he’s dating one of the nurses. He’s new, started a couple of days ago. I always thought I just wanted him to be happy, Ri. But I don’t. Not like that. How the fuck am I supposed to be okay with this? How am I supposed to walk around and interact with Holden, knowing he has Roman and I never will? God, my life is such a clusterfuck.”

Riley is quiet for a beat. “How long has he been back?”

I scoff. “I don’t know. Couple days, maybe. Holden started a few days ago, so I’m assuming not that long.”

She hums. “What makes you think they’re dating?”

“Holden came running in the room when I was about to stitch Roman’s hand, and they were all cutesy with each other. Holden told me how special Roman was, as if I didn’t already fucking know that. And then when I got shitty with Holden, he ripped my ass—which I deserved—and told me that their relationship had nothing to do with me or our working one.”

“I’m not hearing anything that makes me think they’re dating. How do they know each other?” she asks.

“I have no idea. I asked, and all Holden said was they go way back. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Riley chuckles. “It means they go way back. You and I go way back. Are we dating?”

“Well, no. But I’m not into women. And God, Ri—you should see this nurse. He’s gorgeous.”

“Soooo, you’re jealous,” she states matter-of-factly.

My mouth drops open. Of fucking course I’m jealous. But still, I don’t appreciate being called out like that. “Whose side are you on here?”

She sighs. “Yours, Beck. Always yours. However, I’ve gotta be real—you’re jumping to some big conclusions.”

“How do you figure?”

“If you were in the emergency room, I’d come running too. Even if you told me it was nothing serious, and I had nothing to worry about. Wouldn’t you do the same with me?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, so maybe they’re simply friends, and your feelings for Ro are keeping you from seeing it for what it is.”

“Holden calls him ‘Ro,’” I grumble, fully aware of how petulant and childish I sound, but unable to stop myself.

She laughs, like the mean ass she is. “You know I’m not the only one who’s allowed to call him Ro, right? I don’t have the trademark on the nickname or anything.”

“Why can’t you just hate Roman like you’re supposed to?” I whine. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“I am your best friend. Which is why I don’t hate him. Because you and I both know that you don’t hate him—not really. But I promise, if the day comes when all that love you have for him turns to genuine hate, I’ll be the first one lining up with a pitchfork to run him out of town. Until then, I’ll be your supportive voice of reason.”

“I hate when you get like this,” I mumble, and she laughs again.

“Like what?”

“All righteous, like you know everything.”

“Beck. Please tell me I’m wrong,” she says, laughter still tinging her voice.

“Ugh, I can’t, you asshole. But God, I’m so fucking mad. Why can’t I hate him like I’m supposed to?”

“Mysteries of the universe, my guy,” she says, and I can almost picture her shrugging. “So, are you gonna try to get him back?”

“No.” Yes. “Even if I don’t hate him, I don’t trust him, and I don’t want him.” Liar.

Riley is quiet for a minute. “I’ll be here for you no matter what, Beck. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Ri. Thank you for talking to me.”

“Anytime, Beck. You know that.”

I do know that, and I also really appreciate it. I sigh. “I should probably let you go and try to get some sleep.”

“Okay. It’s all going to work out the way it’s supposed to. I have faith in that.”

I wish I could have that faith. “Thanks, Ri. I love you.”

“I love you too. Call me soon, yeah?”

Considering I work with Holden, I’m guessing it’ll probably be sooner than she’s anticipating. “Will do. Goodnight.”

I hang up the phone and stare up at the ceiling, clutching Roman’s rabbit. Even if I wanted him back, that doesn’t mean he’d want me back. And I’m not sure that my heart could handle trying to win him back, only to find out he hasn’t thought about me the way I’ve thought about him. That he hasn’t missed me the way I’ve missed him. Deep down, I know that I’d do anything to have him back. But then, I think about the pain of losing him. How I started crying one day and pretty much never stopped. How I walk around like I’m fine and confident and happy, but I’m drowning in misery and self-loathing. I barely survived losing him the first time—if you can even call this surviving. I can’t take the risk of it happening again.

No. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe it is better to let sleeping dogs lie.

I walk into the hospital dragging ass. But what else is new? Will I ever get a good night’s sleep again? I stop beside the nurses’ station and as I scan the ER; I lock eyes with Holden. His face lights up—what the fuck?—and then he’s heading toward me.

The second he reaches the counter that’s between us, he stops in his tracks and stares up at me. “Just the man I wanted to see,” he says with a grin.

“Me? What for?” Have I somehow woken up in an alternate universe? What the hell is happening right now?

“I have a personal question I need to ask you. Didn’t want to, but hey, it’s hard to get tea around this place. Who knew everyone would be so tight-lipped?”

What in the fuck is he talking about? “What?” I ask, my face scrunching up in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just… let me work. I’ll do my job, and you can do yours, and we’ll avoid each other as much as possible. Okay?”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling as he shakes his head. “No can do. I have a very important mission that I must see through. Can’t be letting Roman down now.” My stomach drops out at the reminder that he’s something with Roman. I turn to walk away, but he reaches across the counter and grabs my arm.

“Hey, stop. Are you seeing anyone?” he asks.

I stop, turning to face him as he lets go of my arm. “How is that any of your business?”

He shrugs. “It’s not, obviously. But I’m afraid I still need the answer.”

I narrow my eyes at him. What the fuck is he playing at? Is this some game? Maybe if I’m happy and moved on, Roman can feel less guilty for leaving me and finding someone else? Holden tilts his head, raising an eyebrow, clearly fine with waiting me out. I huff in irritation. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

His eyes light up in excitement, and he pulls something from his pocket. “Perfect. Best thing I’ve heard all day. Here, this is for you. Don’t worry, I haven’t read it, even though I wanted to.”

He takes off, almost skipping, like some kind of little fucking chaos twink. I look down at the small piece of paper he handed me. My hands tremble as I open it, not sure what to expect.

Kinda crazy that we never got to pass notes back and forth in class, huh? School would have been so much more fun if we had. XOXO Roman.

I read it over once, twice, three times, before crumpling it in my hand. Fuck him. He disappears for ten years without a trace and thinks it’s okay to blow back into town and send me stupid-ass notes through his… whatever the fuck Holden is to him? Absolutely not.

I toss it into the trash can under the desk and spin on my heel. I have more important things to worry about than Roman and whatever stupid games the two of them are playing with me.

I head into the first exam room and administer a flu test, but it’s like my hands are on autopilot, disconnected from my body—operating on their own while my mind spirals. Fuck, why did I throw it away? I nod absentmindedly at whatever it is the patient is saying, hoping that a nod is the right thing. She smiles, so I guess I got it right.

After discharging her with a positive flu test and a prescription for an antiviral, I move to the next room. This patient needs stitches. Great. What is up with everyone cutting themselves and needing stitches? Okay, so it’s only my second one this week, but still. Doing stitches reminds me of Roman. Which reminds me of that stupid fucking note.

I finish up and return to the nurse’s station, drumming my fingers against the counter. I can’t tell if I’m happy or if I’m sad, or if I’m pissed. I’m all fucked up about it, though. I know that for sure. Fuck, I can’t just leave the note there.

Like a complete lunatic, I drop to my knees and dig through the trash, not at all concerned with the other contents. Finally, I see it, almost at the bottom, and my heart skips a beat. After pulling it out, I drop back onto my ass and open it, trying to smooth out the crinkled paper with my fingers.

A sigh escapes me as I read over Roman’s words again. My fingers gently touch the “XOXO” but I don’t get the chance to linger. A code rings out through the speakers and in an instant I’m on my feet, shoving the crumpled note into my pocket as I take off running.

I burst into the room to see Holden performing CPR—again. Fuck me, am I ever going to escape this man?

We all work our asses off for almost twenty minutes, but thankfully, this code doesn’t end like the last one. The patient’s heartbeat returns, and a collective sigh of relief goes around the room.

Three days later, I walk into the ER, and Holden is waiting at the door with a giant grin on his face. “Do you have anything to give me?” he asks, and I raise my brow in confusion.

“Like what?”

He rolls his eyes. “Like a note for Roman.”

“Why would I have a note for Roman?” I try my best to keep my face neutral and unbothered, and judging by his crestfallen expression, I think I did a good job.

“I thought maybe you’d have something to say back to him.”

“Say back to him?” I ask, trying to play dumb.

“Uh, yeah. The note I gave you before. Did you not read it?”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing because, read it? I’ve done nothing but read it. Lying in bed, clutching that stupid stuffed rabbit to my chest, soaking in the two short sentences of Roman’s words over and over again. “No.” The lie is bitter on my tongue, but what am I supposed to say?

“Oh,” Holden replies, disappointment flashing in his eyes. I almost break. I almost slip and tell him yes, I’ve read it, and please, please, please have another one for me, but I don’t. Instead, I stare down at him like he’s beneath me. Or at least, I hope that’s how it’s coming across.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another scrap of paper. My entire body buzzes as my heart races, thudding out an unsteady rhythm. He holds it out, and I force myself to grab it slowly, even though I want to snatch it from him like a crazy person. His eyes are calculating as he stands in front of me, studying me, and I silently beg him to move the fuck along so I can devour more of Roman’s words in private. Blessedly, he turns and walks away, shaking his head in disappointment.

I sag in relief and quickly unfold the note, my stomach flipping in anticipation of the words I’m going to get today.

I thought about going to the bakery today. All I could think about was the way my heart would pound the second you walked through the doors. God, I miss those days. And you. XOXO Roman.

And you. There aren’t even words to describe how much I miss him. But he did this. To himself. To me. To us . I need to remember that. He wouldn’t have to miss me if he hadn’t left, and I wouldn’t be a shell of the person I used to be—surviving on sheer determination and cuddles with a stuffed rabbit. This was his choice, his fault, and now we both have to live with the consequences of that choice. A couple of notes, no matter how much I secretly love them, won’t change that.

I fold the note back up and slip it into my pocket. I may not want to forgive Roman, or even know how, but I know I can’t throw this one away. I won’t lower myself to digging through the trash again. That was ridiculous.

By the end of the week, I have a small collection of notes from Roman. I feel like a fucking weirdo as I sit in my bed, reading them over and over.

Holden says he doesn’t think you’re reading anything I’ve sent. That’s okay. I won’t give up on you. You’re worth fighting for. XOXO Roman.

I wish he’d stop. And I’m dying for him to continue. It’s a love-hate thing, truthfully. I love getting his notes. I hate getting his notes. I’d love to respond, but then I’d probably hate myself—more than I do already.

I pick up the one from yesterday.

Do you remember the little stuffed rabbit you won me on that date night we had? I wish I still had that. The evening after was pretty fun too. ;) XOXO Roman.

I glance over at said rabbit sitting on the pillow next to me. As stupid as it sounds, it feels like those beady little black eyes are judging me. “Yes, I know. I’m a fucking idiot,” I mutter to it. Apparently, I’ve dissolved into full-blown crazy. And all the memories he’s dredging up aren’t helping me at all.

Yes, Roman. The evening after was a blast. And now I can’t even enjoy sex. Thanks for nothing, you fucking asshole. Ugh.

I carefully fold all the notes up and slip them into my bedside table. I can’t decide if I want him to keep sending them or if I want him to leave me the fuck alone.

It’s going to hurt either way, though. I’m almost positive. My fingers twitch as I resist the urge to reach into the drawer and pull them back out and read over them again. I get my hand halfway to it before shaking myself out of it. Rolling over to put them behind me physically, I grab the rabbit and bring it to my nose, inhaling like I can still find Roman’s scent there. Fuck, I miss him. Tears well in my eyes, my throat getting tight. This is killing me.