My mouth felt dry, and I swallowed back a couple decades of insecurity and anger. Kayla had died because of me, and it was my fault our family had fallen apart. My parents still hadn’t forgiven me. How could I expect Avery to understand?
She reached out to my bare hips and pulled me toward her, looking up. “Talk to me,” she said, quoting me from earlier in the evening.
I cleared my throat. “How much alcohol do you have?”
With my hair in knots and my insides wonderfully sore, I stretched in bed, the floor peppered with tossed undergarments. My apartment was familiar but unfamiliar. The sheets smelled like a sweet combination of my lotion, Josh’s cologne, spilled cheap wine, and sex. I glimpsed at the clock, grateful it was my day off.
Josh was gone. I wasn’t sure what time his shift had begun, but he had warned me before I asked him to stay that he wasn’t so lucky.
I reached for his pillow that was once the spare, hugged it to my chest, and rolled onto my back, looking up at the ceiling. Every detail from the previous night replayed in my mind: the way his shoes sounded against my floor, the way his skin tasted, how his hands felt on the parts of me no one else had touched in quite a while. I remembered the glorious pressure of his fingertips digging into my skin, the filling sensation when he had slid inside me, his stomach gliding against mine with every thrust, his arms tensing, and the sound he had made when he came. My thighs tensed. I’d wanted the night to last forever, and I wanted to go back and do it all over again.
I let go of his pillow and rolled out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. The pipes rattled and whined when I turned the knob of the tiny shower. I paused, looking down into the trash can. A used condom. The soap dish had been moved. Droplets of water in the sink. Someone else had occupied the space of my apartment. It was strangely exhilarating.
I stepped under the water, for a moment mourning that I was washing away of any evidence that Josh had made himself at home against my skin. We had been tangled together for a night. We had gone from practically strangers to lovers in the span of a month—since the accident.
The water was hot, but I began to shiver. There was only one thing worse than Josh living up to his reputation. He had changed so much in such a short amount of time. I hadn’t known him all that well before, but what I had known of him … he had left all that behind. Why me? One of my instructors in nursing school had touched on the Florence Nightingale effect, where a caregiver develops romantic feelings for his or her patient.
I scrubbed my hair and skin, and then twisted the knob, standing in my shower, dripping wet and alone—again. I wasn’t paranoid. This was all too good to be true, and at any moment, I would wake up. My head panged, and I made a mental note to find the ibuprofen.
I wrapped a white fluffy towel around me, feeling emptier as the elation from when I had first woken up faded. Josh was different because he wasn’t himself. He had watched a woman he was casually flirting with get pounded by a tractor-trailer, and then he had held her until help arrived. That would be traumatic for anyone. The sad part was he didn’t even know it was happening.
I jumped when three knocks shook the door. I tucked wet strands behind my ear and padded out of my bedroom and past the couch and coffee table. I peeked from the door, opening it just enough that the chain lock caught. Josh was standing on the other side with a sweet smile and two coffees. He was in a navy T-shirt with white insignia, navy cargo pants, and black lace-up boots.
“Hey,” he said, his head dipping down. “Everything okay?”
“I’m, um … What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
He held up both hands. “I made breakfast. Sorry I had to leave so early. I should have brought my clothes, but you know … didn’t want to assume anything. Not that I did. I’m on the clock, but we just dropped off a patient at St. Ann’s and I started missing you, and …” As he rambled, he noticed the look on my face. His expression changed. “What’s going on, Avery? Is everything all right?”
“I’m okay.” I tried to smile, but it felt crooked.
“Let’s talk.” He scanned my body from chin to ankles, and then his eyes drifted back up, stopping on the water dripping from the ends of my hair. He leaned over to look past me, and then the muscles in his jaw ticked under his taut skin.
“I just have a headache. I’m really okay.”
“Avery. Let me in.”
I slid the lock until it released. Josh immediately pushed the door open, looking around. He passed me to walk into the bedroom, spent a few seconds in the bathroom, and then returned to the living room, tripping over the area rug beneath my couch.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
He was breathing through his nose, slightly trembling, his eyes wild.
“You’re angry?” I asked.
He looked away, his jaw tightening. Without thinking, I yanked the necklace he’d given me over my head and held it out to him. His mouth fell open, as if I’d slapped him in the face.
“Just wait a second, Avery. Let’s take a second and think about this.”
I arched my eyebrow, obstinate. The penny still dangled from the chain in my hand, just inches from his chest.
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s it?”
“Please,” I said, unimpressed. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” I pushed to my tiptoes and looped the necklace over his head before sinking back down on the heels of my feet, my hands on my hips. “Penny for your thoughts.”