Page 106 of Close Match

An erratic beat begins to thrum in my heart. “Sure, that’s fine.” Stripping off the paper gown, I toss it into the trash receptacle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Distracted while she makes notes on the chart, the nurse smiles briefly before returning to her work.

I’m walking past the nurses’ monitoring station when I pick up bits of conversation. I slow my stride to hear more. “…doing so well. It came on so suddenly.” “It’s so sad; he’s such a nice man.” “Well, you know the donor was only a close match. There’s always a chance the transplant is being rejected.”

Turning abruptly, I give them my broadest smile. “Hello, ladies. Could you let me know what time I’ll be able to come back to see Everett Parrish in the morning?”

All of their faces close up. “He has a do-not-disturb order for his room. It’s probably best if you call,” one says gently.

“Yes, that’s for the best,” the other agrees.

“Thanks,” I choke out. Turning, I practically run for the elevator.

Oh, God. They were talking about Ev.

It’s Ev rejecting the transplant.

Linnie was unable to save him. She wasn’t a miracle, after all.

* * *

Panic and furydrove me out of Inova. I didn’t bother to slow down to gather my thoughts. I only know I need a drink fast.

I drive past several popular haunts, not wanting to make conversation. I want to forget what I just heard. I need to obliterate the nurses’ words from my mind. There’s a chance the transplant is being rejected. The next forty-eight hours are critical.

Finally, I see a broken neon light up ahead announcing what I so desperately need.

B-A-R

I swing the Jag into the gravel parking lot. I hear ping after ping of rock hit the body before one flies up and nicks the windshield. I don’t care.

All I need right now is behind the front doors of a place that looks like it’s going to ask no questions and demand no answers.

Perfect.

Pulling open the door, I stalk up to the mostly empty bar. Reaching for my wallet, I pull out all the bills before shoving it back inside my back pocket. I feel my cell buzz in my pocket, but I ignore it. Slapping the money on the counter in front of the startled bartender, I snarl, “Take 20 percent off the top for yourself, and then just keep the vodka coming.”

“Will do, hoss. You want it to taste good, or you want it to last?” he asks before he turns toward the well.

Settling down on a barstool that feels like it has a spring shoving deep up my ass, I growl, “I want it to last.”

* * *

“Dude,I think if you even put him in the car, you can be arrested.”

“Ain’t my problem. He can’t sleep inside the bar.”

“Fine,” I slur. “Goin’.”

“See? He can talk. You’re fine, ain’t ya, hoss?”

“Fine. Fine, fine, fine.” Everything’s always fine. Or it will be when I get to sleep and this nightmare ends.

“Come back anytime.” The door slams behind me. I get my bearings for just a moment while I try to figure out where I am. I hiccup, and bile starts to rise.

“Food,” I mumble. I squint. There’s an all-night Krystal next door. I think? I’ll just get a sack of burgers before I head home.

Ev’s home. Tears begin to fall down my face. I sniffle as I engage my Jag and drive it from one parking lot to the next. I sit up straighter as I drive past a police officer. “Can’t get caught driving by the po-po,” I chuckle. “That’d be no bueno.”