“It’s okay. I’ll see you at one.” Simon turned away without another word. He made it halfway to his door before Trevor called out to him.
“Hey!”
Simon stopped. Waited and then turned. A heavy breath fell from Trevor’s lungs when he did. “I’m an asshole.” Though he still wasn’t sure why.
Simon shook his head. “No, you’re not. I’ll see you soon.” He walked into his house, his back muscles flexing as he did.
“Fuck.” He had no idea what that was about. Trevor sighed, got into his truck and drove away.
***
“You see, TVs come in all different sizes nowadays. They even have smart TVs, and TVs you can use to watch the internet. We’ll get into a discussion on the internet another day. I don’t want to overwhelm you with modern technology.” Trevor nudged Simon’s arm with his own as they walked through the electronics store.
“You were right. You’re an asshole,” Simon teased him. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Simon was older that Trevor gave him a hard time over, or just the fact that he didn’t have a television. The age thing grated on his nerves. “I’m only thirty-seven. You act like I’m a grandpa or something.”
Trevor’s brows knitted together before he rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I get that. I’m not giving you shit over your age. Why do you always think that?”
The truth was, Simon wasn’t sure. It shouldn’t matter. Why should an age difference between two friends matter? But for some reason, it did. “I don’t. I’m just not myself today.” Speaking of which, he still felt like an ass for biting Trevor’s head off when he called Simon doctor this morning. It still made his chest ache. Yes, he was still a doctor. He always would be. But he wasn’t a surgeon, and that killed him.
“I only give you shit because I still can’t get over the fact that you don’t have a TV. I’ve seen you on your computer, though. You’re obsessive about that, so it was a dumb joke. What the hell are you always doing on that thing, anyway?”
It was a simple question, but it made the hairs on the back of Simon’s neck stand. He pretended to be writing his book. He told everyone that was his plan. He even had speech-to-text because he couldn’t type much without pain. If he couldn’t perform surgery, why not share his extensive knowledge of the heart with the written word?
The truth was, he hadn’t started yet. He couldn’t make himself. No, he spent hours on end looking up surgeries and alternate options. Test studies, and the possibility of more surgeries. He was becoming an expert at the hand and nerves, instead of the one thing he’d always loved: the heart.
Instead of answering Trevor’s question, Simon said, “I owe you an apology for this morning. I shouldn’t have gotten upset.”
Trevor stopped in front of the sixty-four-inch televisions. “Was it the wink? It was a joke. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“What?” Why the hell would he think that? “No. It wasn’t the wink. I’ve been winked at before. Jesus, do you think I’m a saint?”
Trevor seemed a little uncomfortable at that. He shuffled his feet, licked his lips, and Simon just stood there watching him. “You probably are when it comes to me. You’ve spent your life saving lives. I’ve fucked them up.”
Simon waved his hand at him. A month ago, had someone else said the same thing, he wouldn’t have cared either way. Let them drown in their own misery or feel guilty for things they did. He didn’t have much patience for things like that, but it made the pulse in his head pound a little harder at Trevor thinking that about himself. “People can’t change their pasts. All you can do is work toward the future. From what I see, you have nothing to worry about.”
Heat skittered down Simon’s arms at the way Trevor looked at him. The appreciation in his eyes, the way he didn’t let his blue gaze drift away from him. It was like he tried to see something that Simon didn’t want to show him, but almost couldn’t stop it. But he could. He did. Simon stepped back. “I was an ass this morning. It’s been over a year, but I’m still working through it all in my head. It’s hard losing that part of me. I don’t really know who I am if I’m not a surgeon.” He’d put everything into it.
Trevor opened his mouth to reply but another voice spoke out before he did. “Can I help you?” Simon scrambled backward as though he’d been doing something wrong. But not Trevor. Trevor didn’t move. Didn’t look away. It was Simon who turned his attention toward the store employee, and as far away from Trevor as he could.