To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(46)

“Damn it, woman. Get down!” He grasped my hips and yanked me back just as I grasped the edges of the box. It came flying off the shelf at my sudden heave backward and tipped forward with all its contents raining down on both of us.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN




"I suspect the most we can hope for, and it's no small hope, is that we never give up, that we never stop giving ourselves permission to try to love and receive love." - Elizabeth Strout



NOEL




I tapped my fingers against my knee as I pressed my phone to my ear, waiting for someone to answer.

Pick took his sweet time before giving a sleepy greeting as if I’d just roused him from bed at four thirty in the afternoon. “Yeah?”

“Hey, can you cover my shift tonight?”

“Fuck, you have the worst timing ever, Gamble. Why can’t you work it?”

“Long story.” I glanced over at Aspen laid out on the bed next to me, her arms resting placidly at her sides while her feet stretched out toward the end of the mattress. I suspected she was awake even though her eyes were closed. “I’m at the hospital...with a friend.”

“Everything okay?” The concern in Pick’s voice made me smile. He could act like a thug all he liked, but the guy’s heart was as soft as a kitten’s. He’d cut off his own leg to help a friend in need.

“Nothing a couple stitches can’t fix.” My gaze found the gauze patch at the top of her arm almost to the curve of her shoulder. Fifteen stitches to be exact.

“Okay, fine. But you owe me.”

“Thanks, man.” I hung up and lowered my phone just as Aspen’s lashes flickered open. The pain medicine they’d given her must’ve kicked in because her green gaze looked glassy and incoherent.

“You don’t have to stay. Really. I’m fine. If you need to go to work, go to work. They’re probably going to release me pretty soon anyway.”

“And you’re going to need someone to drive you home once they do,” I argued in a soft, reasonable tone.

I felt like shit for getting her hurt. But who knew corners of cardboard boxes could slice open such deep, nasty gashes? Jesus, I should’ve let her pull the damn thing down off the shelf by herself. She’d no doubt be uninjured right now if I had. And I know it had hurt, a lot. She’d let me drive her to the hospital without a word of resistance.

“I can drive just fine. I have a small nick. It’s not like they cut off my whole arm.” But as soon as she spoke, color seeped from her face. Her eyes went sallow and lost as if her own words had elicited a painful memory. Slamming her lashes closed, she let out a regretful whimper. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

I tilted my head to the side, confused. “Why not?”

She blinked me back into focus. “Because...” She didn’t answer, just stared at me with wide eyes. “My dad,” she finally added, but that was all she said.

From her purse, a phone started to ring. Since it sat on the cart next to me, and I didn’t want her to move, I reached into it without asking for permission and snapped open the top clasp. Her phone rested near the top. As I pulled it out, I saw the call was from Parents.

“Here.” I handed it over, but she just stared at me. You’d have thought I was handing her a poisoned apple or something. So I tried to be helpful as I said, “It’s your folks.”

“Oh, God.” If she’d been pale before, she was sheet white now. “It’s karma.”

I grinned, glad to know I wasn’t the only person who blamed all my bad shit on karma. “Why would karma use your parents’ phone to call?”

I was trying to be cute enough to make her smile. It didn’t work. If anything, she looked even sicker. “If you only knew.”

For some reason, I did want to know. “So tell me.”

Aspen stared at me, her expression startled. The phone continued to ring between us. She blinked and shook her head before taking it with shaking fingers.

“Hel...hello?” Her voice sounded so young and afraid. I didn’t like that. I thought I hated it in class when her pitch turned professor-ish. But right now, I would’ve given anything to hear her powerhouse, self-confident tone again.

From where I sat, I heard a muffled woman’s voice tell Aspen her father was in the hospital. Hmm. What a coincidence. Must run in the family to visit a hospital today. National Kavanagh Hospital Day. I waited for her to explain she was in one too. But she didn’t.

“I...um, how long has he been there?” She nodded as a muted answer came through the receiver. “And his leg?” she asked next. “Is this going to affect that at all? He still has it, right? They haven’t amputated anything yet?”

Oh, so that was why lost-limb jokes were taboo in her book. Good to know.

When she closed her eyes and crossed her fingers, I experienced this unavoidable urge to reach out and clasp that hand, or at least cross my fingers right along with her.

She looked so alone and small on that bed, her fingers crossed with hopeful, childlike anxiety. It made me uncomfortable to watch her this way, mostly because I couldn’t do anything to help her, or more accurately because I shouldn’t.

Thinking screw it, she needs this, I reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold and gave a startled jerk under my grip. But I didn’t let go. Her eyes flashed open to peer up at me, but I just nodded, letting her know I was there. When her fingers finally squeezed back, I swear I felt the grip tighten around my heart instead of my palm.