“So out with it,” Becca prompts. “Maybe we can cleanse you of your need for Superman.”
I stick my tongue out at her, and she laughs.
“Fine,” I reply with a sigh. “But if I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh.”
Becca presses her lips together in amusement and gestures for me to continue, twirling her dark brown hair around a finger while her equally dark brown eyes survey me. We’ve worked together at the cardiac unit for too many years — she was already a medical assistant when I started there during nursing school — and have been friends just as long, so she knows me better than almost anybody. But this … this, I’ve never told anyone.
I down the rest of my drink. What the hell. Here goes.
“When I was fourteen, I went to my first airshow sans parents,” I begin. Becca grins widely. I don’t have to explain the significance of that to her; she grew up in San Diego too, attending the annual airshow just the same as I always have. Ogling the hot guys on offer, in uniform and out. Going on your own meant the chance to flirt unimpeded by parental units.
“So, your Henry was a hunky sailor, huh?” she teases.
I shrug. “I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “He wasn’t in uniform. We didn’t even speak. My friends were pulling me toward the hangar, and I looked up and there he was. He was with a group of guys heading the other direction.”
I close my eyes, bringing up the mental picture that hasn’t faded in detail, despite it being ten years ago.
“He was older than me, maybe late teens? But he had dark-brown hair and the most beautiful, clear blue eyes I’d ever seen. Seriously, when we locked eyes, I froze in place. I couldn’t move. He was so gorgeous. So fucking perfect. But mostly …” I open my eyes to see Becca staring, enraptured.
“What?” she prompts impatiently.
I scrunch up my nose. In for a penny …
“I felt it,” I admit on a sigh. “A tug in my chest. Like the world dropped away, and it was just us. Like the universe went quiet so I could hear the pounding of my heart. Feel the connection between us like it was a living thing.” I lean back, lamenting my empty glass. “And then my friends pulled me away and I lost him in the crowd.”
Becca sits up straight, her face dropping.
“That’s it? You saw some guy during fleet week ten years ago who got your hormones going and you’re spoiled for anyone who doesn’t have dark hair and blue eyes? Fuck, Sash, that’s nuts.”
“And that’s me, done for the night,” I reply, rising from my seat.
She reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me back as I retreat. “I’m sorry,” she replies. “Please, stay. I’ll even buy you another drink.”
A small smile finds its way onto my lips, and I sink back into the chair.
“You’re forgiven. But I swear I’m not crazy. I don’t think I date guys who look like that because of him. I think that’s just what I find attractive. But what I can’t seem to find is something that moves me the way looking into his eyes did.” I pause, trying to figure out how to explain it. I look back up, and Becca is staring at me curiously. “It was like … seeing a stranger, but knowing everything about him was just there, waiting for me to know. And everything in me wanted that, wanted to know him. Like it would be the answer to everything.” I can tell by the look on her face that she totally doesn’t get where I’m coming from, so I just stop, shaking my head.
“I can’t say I understand,” she replies slowly. “But that’s cool. I mean, I get wanting to really feel something with someone. But I guess I didn’t realize you were such a fucking romantic.”
I laugh at Becca’s talent for keeping things from getting too serious. “I’m really not. It was just a thing that happened. But it’s always stuck in my head. Like that’s the way it should be. That’s how I should feel when I meet the right guy.”
“So that’s why you’ve only had a handful of relationships that never lasted longer than a few months the whole time I’ve known you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I always chalked that up to focusing on school, and my career. And, I mean, I’m only twenty-four. But I guess, yeah, I’ve never really felt that again. I’m not stupid, though, Becks. It’s not like I don’t give guys a chance. Even if there’s not that initial spark. I try to stick around, waiting for it. But it never comes.”
“Wow,” Becca mouths.
“Have you ever felt that way?” I ask, suddenly wondering if something is wrong with me.
“I’ve been attracted to guys. Wanted to jump their bones. Well, actually jumped their bones,” she allows. “But I can’t say I’ve ever had my universe go quiet.”
“Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you.” Becca, thankfully, is extremely difficult to offend, and she just laughs in response.
“You wish,” she jokes with a wink. “You know I don’t swing that way.”
“Me neither. But wouldn’t that just solve both of our problems,” I tease back with my own wink.
CHAPTER 2
The next morning I fill my coffee mug to the brim and stifle a yawn as I head into our mandated morning staff tag-up. Becca joins me as I pass the nurses’ station, cradling her own giant cup of java.
“Someday,” she sighs, “I’ll have a job where I don’t have to be in at six a.m. on a Saturday. I wonder what MacDougall wants, anyway.”
“There’s a new doc on the block,” a cheery voice comes from behind us.
We both look back to see my supervisor, Julianna Magnusson, approaching, looking every inch the morning person she is, all bright-eyed with a pep in her step. Well, supervisor, mentor, and friend. None of us would make it without Jules. She’s been a nurse practitioner at Rutherford Hospital for ten years and was a nurse here for six before that. She knows more than just about anyone at the hospital how things run across units. Which also makes her privy to the best gossip.
“Yeah? Any dirt?” Becca asks gleefully as Jules joins us.
Jules sweeps her burgundy hair into a ponytail with a quiet smile. “Only that he’s coming from Cedars-Sinai in L.A., where he also apparently did his cardiac surgery training.” Becca gives her a disappointed look and Jules laughs. “Sorry, babes, I bumped into Dr. MacDougall and that was all he had time to tell me. We’re all about to find out anyway.”
Becca gives an indifferent shrug, clearly having wanted to know before everyone else, and Jules and I share a look as we enter the staff meeting room. We seem to be the last in, aside from Dr. MacDougall and our new addition. Becca sniffs the air suspiciously.
“Oh god, what is it?” I ask. In a hospital, you never know what an odd smell is going to lead to.
Becca takes another deep sniff and her eyes go wide. “Donuts!” And she’s off, dragging me across the room to where, behind a cluster of MAs, there are, in fact, two huge boxes of donuts.
“Damn, Becks, you’re a freaking bloodhound,” I tease as she grabs the nearest donut and stuffs it in her face.
“Oh my god, they’re still warm,” she groans around a mouthful of pastry.