Page 14 of The Night Shift

Kennedy snickers. “Jeez, I was just kidding. You look like you’re about to throw up.”

Bloody hell. “And to think I was going to sneak in some strawberry ice cream for you.”

Her face immediately lights up. “You were?”

“Not anymore.”

“That’s rude.”

“No, kid. That’s life.”

Her smile falters a bit. “It’s not all that bad, you know,” she says.

“I agree. My hair is perfect.”

“No, not that. Apparently, if I’m in a wheelchair, I’ll never have to wait in line for anything for the rest of my life.”

My expression softens. I suppose the “right” thing to do would be to assure her that this isn't going to last for the rest of her life. It’s what any other doctor would have done. They would have told her that with the right amount of exercise and treatment and surgeries, she will be able to walk again. That this isn’t permanent. But I know better than that. False hope is the cruelest of deceptions. If she wants to use humour and sarcasm to avoid feeling the true weight of her injury right now, then so be it. I’m not about to snatch that away from her. That would make me a hypocrite, and frankly, I'm more into collecting compliments than contradictions.

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

My phone chirps in the pocket of my lab coat. I take it out and see a bunch of texts from Parker.

H. Parker: This is your official invite to April’s bachelorette on October 31st. Venue: 167 Orchard Street. Before you say no, let me just say: Hangovers are temporary, but friends are forever!

H. Parker: Okay, that was lame, but you get the gist. See you on Saturday! The theme is supervillains and yes, costumes are compulsory (Future wife’s orders).

H. Parker: P.S: Do NOT tell the she-devil that I invited you. I want to stay alive until the wedding. Thanks man. Love you.

“Oooh,” Kennedy teases and I look up. “Is that Dr. Hollister?”

I wish.“It’s Santa, actually. Wants me to tell you not to stay up for him this year.”

“I’m thirteen. Not stupid.”

“Debatable.”

“Sooo, how is she?”

“Santa?”

Kennedy makes some sort of whining noise, and I crack a smile. Kennedy is the only other person within the walls of this hospital — and the world — who knows about my affliction with Holly.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and go back to examining her patient chart. “She is fine,” I say.In surgery. “But it’s been a while since I’ve seen her—”six hours and forty minutes, “—so things might’ve changed.”

“Awww, do you miss her?”

“Absolutely not.” Is it possible to miss someone whose face is already so deeply entrenched in my memories?

“Yes, you do! Look, you’re blushing.”

“Stop it.”

“Youloooveher.”

“Are you done?”

“Not until you admit that you have a crush on her.”