Fly Bye

Words blur before my eyes as I shovel tomato soup into my mouth.

After leaving Gray’s loft, I drove to my parents’ to feed the cat a very early breakfast and then came straight to the hospital. The first time anyone has shown up two hours early for the five a.m. shift, I’m sure. I tossed and turned for an hour in the on-call room, then decided to catch up on my charts.

It’s one p.m. now, and my bloodstream is mostly caffeine. I’ve never been more physically or emotionally drained.

I set the research article I was trying to read aside and unlock my phone. I like a meme Sloane sent and reply to an email from my mom, letting me and Noah know they arrived safely in Florence, before opening the unread messages Logan sent yesterday.

Logan: Sounds good.

Logan: Also…your graduation gift arrived

Logan: Let me know where to send it.

I let out a huff of disbelief at the realization I dumped this sweet, considerate guy and am wildly attracted to the living embodiment of the phrase catch flights, not feelings.

My mom once told me she almost fainted on her first date with my dad—because she was so nervous that she kept forgetting to breathe. When she said it, I thought that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. Romantic, sure, but irrational. How can one person have so much of an effect on you that they affect an essential reflex? Now, I get it. When he’s near, Gray consumes oxygen like a fire. Like he consumes me.

I always breathed just fine around Logan.

I debate on what to reply, glad he’s not pushing for a time to talk. Aside from our respective residencies, I’m not sure what we would discuss. So much of our relationship and friendship were centered around school. Studying, applying to internships, conducting research, guest lectures, clinicals. The list goes on and on. I also don’t know what I’d say if he asked if I was seeing anyone. I’m not, technically. If we’d never dated, I might have told him a vague version of what happened last night. I even mentioned Gray to him once before, back in our second year. We got drunk on cheap vodka, and I confessed I’d been hung up on one guy forever. By that point, I was adamant about harboring only attraction for Gray. I said it mostly as a deterrent—because I thought Logan might try to kiss me.

Evie: Logan!

Evie: You did NOT need to get me anything else.

We all exchanged joke gifts at graduation. Custom pens, stethoscope name tags, and #1 Doctor socks were some of the highlights.

Three dots appear immediately, which surprises me. He must be on his lunch break as well.

Logan: Don’t worry; it’s not a “girlfriend” gift.

Logan: Kind of a joke, but I think you’ll use it.

Logan: And it was custom, so I can’t return it.

Logan: Thought it got lost in the mail but just took a while to get forwarded to my new address.

Evie: You moved?

Logan: Yeah.

Logan: I’m in Back Bay now.

Damn. Mass General must pay its residents well.

I send him a wide-eyed emoji, which he likes, and then my address.

Evie: Thank you!

Evie: I’m sure I’ll love it.

“Wow. This soup is so bad.” Rose plops down in the seat opposite me with a bowl of the same tomato soup I’ve been mindlessly eating.

“It looked better than the chili,” I respond.

I don’t trust any meat served in the cafeteria. Hospitals aren’t known for their gourmet cuisine.

“True.” Rose circles my face with her spoon. “You look exhausted.”

“I am. Didn’t get much sleep.”

“Guy from the bar keep you up?” She wags her eyebrows at me.

In the short time I’ve known her, I’ve heard a lot about Rose’s sex life. She’s a sharer, and she has never seemed to care that I don’t reply in kind. I’m not sure if she’s realized it’s because I don’t have any stories to share. Or didn’t, rather.

“Yeah.”

Rose’s eyes light up. “Details! Was it good?”

The sex? “Yes.” The emotional aftermath? No. Not that I have anything to compare the first to.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous. He was hot.” Rose drops her spoon and reties her ponytail. “Do you think you’ll hook up with him again?”

Hell no. “Uh, I doubt it.”

“Why not? You should—oh, hello, soldier.”

Fuck.

Charleston General has the top physical therapy program in the country and often treats members of the military from the joint base or nearby Fort Jackson. Men and women in uniform aren’t a rarity here, but I have a bad feeling—mostly based on Rose’s delighted smile—before I turn around to see Gray walking into the cafeteria.

“Shit,” I mutter.

Rose gives me a proud grin. “Damn, Evie. He’s even hotter than I remember. I’d let that boy keep me up all night.”

“Don’t look,” I hiss at her. “I don’t want him coming over here.”

It’s too late though. I can already hear the heavy thud of approaching footsteps.

“Can I talk to you, Evie?”

My grip on the spoon tightens as I deliberately keep my eyes on Rose. “I’m actually busy, doing absolutely anything else.”

Rose, the traitor, smiles and sticks a hand out. I guess I should have told her the full story. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rose.”

“Gray,” he replies, shaking it.

She looks at me and raises both eyebrows. I stare stubbornly at my red soup.

“Everleigh Claire Collins.”

I threw his full name at him when I left, and he’s tossing it right back with a not-so-subtle I know you too. I’ll never be able to avoid him forever. This conversation will have to take place sometime. But still, I don’t move. It feels too raw, too fresh.

“I’ll drag you out of here if I have to,” Gray warns.

I’m not sure I believe him, but I stand up anyway. Rose has already figured out there’s more to the story than a drunken hookup—if her curious eyes bouncing between us are any indication—and she’s my only friend at work. I don’t want her figuring out we have history or that he’s the chief’s son. I’m sure there are already whispers about how I’m the only resident Chief Phillips knows by name. “There’s an empty on-call room or two,” she teases. “To talk or…” Her voice trails off suggestively.

“I’ll see you later, Rose.” I give her a hard look that makes it clear the suggestion was not appreciated, then risk a glance at Gray.

He looks amused. I gather up the article I was reading and toss the mostly empty container of soup in the trash.

“Come on,” I mutter, walking toward the doors.

Gray falls into step beside me. “You told her about last night.”

I don’t deny it.

“What did you tell her?”

“That you were a lousy lay.”

“Compared to who?” His voice is lofty, cocky. Possessive.

It simultaneously pisses me off and turns me on.

I say nothing as I lead the way down the hall and into an empty on-call room. I shut the door behind us and lean back against it, arms crossed. “You wanted to talk. So, talk, Gray.”

“I’m sorry.”

I’m taken off guard by his apology, which is a sad testament to his effect on me. Anyone else, and I never would have talked to them again. I still would have expected an apology, though. The thought didn’t occur to me with him. I didn’t think I’d see him again before he left. As much as I hate how he callously pointed it out, I did know I was one hookup in a long line for him. And that the list would keep growing.

I nod once in acknowledgment.

“Are you…okay?” He asks the question like it’s one he’s never spoken before. Maybe it’s not.

“Yep. Great.”

He steps forward and tilts my chin up, so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. Those green eyes burrow into me. I clutch the magazine tighter to my chest, using it as a flimsy shield.

“I mean it, Evie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just…sore.” I wince. That wasn’t something I meant to share with him. It’s just something I’m suddenly aware of as my body responds to how close his is.

Gray’s expression softens, then shifts to an emotion I can’t discern. “Do you regret it?” The question hurls at me abruptly.

And…here it is. My chance to hurt him back. To take revenge for years of disappointment and second-guessing—for last night. An opportunity to hurt the guy who isn’t affected by anyone, much less me.

I can’t do it.

Because I don’t regret it. I wish it had ended differently. But I wouldn’t change it.

“No.”

He nods. Something that looks a lot like relief flashes across his face until he schools it into the indifference he usually wears like a mask.

“Do you think it was a mistake?”

“No.” His answer is swift. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was—I’m sorry, Evie. Really. I was an ass.”

I don’t dispute it. He came, he apologized, and now he’s silent. The quiet allows for too many thoughts, so I break it. “Why are you wearing your uniform?”

I’ve never seen him in it before, and, yeah…he wears it well. It dregs up memories I’m trying very hard to repress.

Gray glances down at the camouflage print that has Phillips and U.S. Air Force stitched on the front. “I had a meeting at the base this morning.”

“Oh.” All of a sudden, I’m at a loss for what else to say to him. Our expected interactions—brief and surface level—don’t look like this. Things have shifted between us—irrevocably. “I won’t tell Noah.”

His brow furrows like crumpled paper, forming twin lines between his eyes.

“That’s why you’re here, apologizing, right? I played the best friend’s little sister card last time something happened between us, and now, you’re feeling guilty and worried I’ll tell him. I won’t, okay? He’ll never know.”

Gray nods. “Okay.” Then, he steps forward and kisses me, which I was not expecting. At all. It’s barely more than a light graze, yet it leaves a sear of sensation behind. “Noah isn’t why I’m here though.”

He smirks at what I’m guessing is a lustful, confused expression, then reaches for the handle by my hip. I shift to the side so he can open the door. Noise and activity spill in from the hallway. He walks out, and I trail behind, trying to figure out what to do or say now. Some stupid, idiotic part of me wants to prolong this somehow.

“Gray?”

We both turn to see Henry walking toward us.

Fuck.

“Dad.”

Henry glances at me. “Dr. Collins.”

“Chief.”

Gray makes a small, amused sound in his throat at the formal greetings. That draws his father’s attention back to him.

“What are you doing here, Grayson?”

Although I doubt Gray expected to run into his father on this visit, he takes the question in stride. “Thought I’d see what sort of job you’re doing, running this place. I know how much you love constructive criticism.”

Henry’s jaw tightens. So does Gray’s.

They look a lot alike, especially in this moment.

“Chief?”

I straighten as my boss’s boss approaches. Dr. Watson is the head of the Cardiac Unit. He’s in his late forties with a perpetual cheerfulness that’s rare to retain in a profession that sees a lot of sad endings.

“Sorry, John. I was just headed upstairs for the meeting,” Henry says, glancing away from Gray.

Dr. Watson looks to me. “Dr. Collins.”

“Dr. Watson.” I nod respectfully.

“And who’s this?” Dr. Watson is looking at Gray.

“This is my son, Grayson,” Henry answers.

Dr. Watson holds out a hand, which Gray shakes. “Nice to meet you. Navy?” He’s squinting at Gray’s uniform, trying to make out the stitched letters.

“Air Force.”

“Thank you for your service.”

Gray smiles and nods. Henry looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. I wonder if he’s ever said anything similar to Gray. Ever acknowledged the fact that while his son took a different path than he wanted him to, it’s still an admirable one.

My pager goes off. I glance at Gray and state the obvious. “I have to go.”

He nods.

I don’t know what else to say. Thanks for coming? See you around? Sorry for leaving you with your dad?

I settle on a small smile before I spin and sprint in the direction of the stairwell.