Page 13 of Brooklynaire

I get up, too, because Becca looks ready to bolt. “Running off already?” I ask. “Got a minute forme?”

“Of course.” But she swallows hard after she says it. Like she really isn’t looking forward to an extra few minutes of mycompany.

Too bad. She’s scaring me, and I’ve only seen her once in the last three weeks, which has to be a record. I thank Dr. Herberts and then follow her into the hallway. We walk together, but Rebecca is silent. Her arms are crossed, and she’s huddled in onherself.

I hateit.

We reach the tunnel that leads up to the office building. I hold the door open for her, and Rebecca leads the way. Sunshine has lit up the glass bricks, and the rays are bouncing off all the surfaces, like jewels. The ramp beneath our feet stretches upward, and it’s so bright that the path seems to ascend towardheaven.

Rebecca slows her steps. Then she weaves to the side, and I lunge before I’m even sure what’s happening. My hand finds her elbow, and then I catch her weight against my body, her back against mychest.

“Shit!” she squeaks, her hand shooting out to steady herself on the glasswall.

She rights herself and straightens up, but I hold her until she moves out of my grasp. “Hey. Take a minute, okay? What wasthat?”

“Nothing.” She sighs. “I just got disoriented. It’s sobright.”

Disoriented. Is that a symptom of concussions? The cold prickle of discomfort I felt in the doctor’s office returns. I wrap an arm around Becca’s shoulders. “Comeon.”

She doesn’t like the help, but I leave her no choice. And since I’m steadying her, we proceed up the sunlit tunnel without any further drama. At the top, the lobby is quite dark by contrast, the brick interior lit only by the vintage nickel and glass fixtures hanging from the ceiling. There’s a seating area here, although nobody ever uses it. I guide Rebecca onto an upholstered bench and then sit beside her. “Better?” Iask.

“Yes.” Rebecca takes a long blink. “I’m okaynow.”

“Like hell you are.” It comes out harsher than I mean it to. “Let’s get youhome.”

She glances toward the door. “I’mgoing.”

“I’ve got the car.” I tug my phone from my pocket. “Let me tell him to pullaround.”

“Jesus. It’s two blocks, Nate. I’mokay.”

No, you’re not, and it’s freaking me the fuck out.Luckily I’m smart enough not to say that aloud. “I’ll walkyou.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” shesaid.

Ouch. “Why?”

“Because I…” She takes a deep breath and looks me square in the eye for the first time today, and it hits me like a punch. I miss those eyes. “I can’tstandthis. I can’t stand being such a mess. And I can’t stand missing work. I’m sorry for the big fucking disruption, okay? Don’t spend any more time on me. There’s ten other places you’re supposed to be right now, and Lauren is somewhere sharpening her talons to shred up both of us,probably.”

“Now wait a minute, hothead.” That last thing is probably true. But Rebecca is focusing on all the wrong things, and I’m not going to stand for it. “Some things are more important than a little kink in the schedule. Like yourhealth.”

“I know!” She’s shouting at me now. Because women often do that. “But I’m so sick of me! It’s been threeweeks. With no change. Every night I go to bed thinking that tomorrow I’ll feel better. But Idon’t.”

Both my hands flex, because I have the urge to reach out and pull her into my arms. The attraction I feel toward Rebecca is inconvenient, to say the least. But I never act on it. “Youwillfeel better,” I say. And then I realize how helpless I am right now. There isn’t much in my life I can’t fix with a phone call or a sternly wordedmemo.

Except forthis.

Rebecca swallows hard. “Remember when you visited my apartment, and we had the stupid conversation about parallel universes?” she whispers. “Well, I think I’m in one. In this universe, nothing works right forme.”

“You’rescared.”

“Of course I’m scared!” Her eyes look red. “You and Hugh have been great.Reallygreat. But I need to show up for work eventually. It’s what peopledo.”

“No—you take all the time you need. I don’t care how long that is. How long have we known eachother?”

She glances up, frowning again. “Seven years.But…”

“But nothing. You’re not some flaky intern who doesn’t know what it means to hold down ajob.”