Page 16 of What We Break
Twenty minutes later, the doors slide open.
"Make way for the expedition!" Reid announces.
He's pushing a gurney with a woman on it, while Tony trails behind him pushing a wheelchair with a man. They look like a very tired parade.
"Good evening, miss," the woman on the gurney says formally as they wheel her past. "Might I inquire about the year?"
Oh lord. I tell her and she gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. "William! We've traveled even further than we thought!"
"Indeed, my dear Margaret!" William responds from the wheelchair Tony is pushing. "What marvelous medical facilities they have in the future! Look at the lighting!"
Reid catches my eye and mouths "time travelers" with a wide grin. It's late. He's been working hard. And he'sstill smiling.Still finding the joy in it.
I know people who smile through their shifts. I've been one ofthem. But usually it's performance — the mask you wear so the patients feel safe, so your coworkers don't worry. This isn't that. This is a man who is genuinely, stupidly delighted to be pushing a time-traveling woman through an ER at four in the morning. Either he's insane or he's the most alive person I've ever met.
Both options are equally dangerous.
But I get it. Because I can't wipe the smile off my face either. And that terrifies me a little, if I'm being honest. Because I know this feeling. I felt it in New Zealand with Caleb. In Spain with Marco. This warm, magnetic pull toward someone who makes the world feel bigger and brighter and more interesting.
And every time I've felt it, I've eventually gotten on a plane.
Not this time. You're staying. Remember? You bought throw pillows.
Throw pillows are not an anchor, Mitchell.
By six in the morning, the festival casualties have finally stopped coming. Reid appears one last time, but this time he's not bringing anyone.
"That's it," he announces. "Festival officially wound down. We're heading back to base."
"How many total?" Joyce asks.
"Fourteen. Tony owes me fifty bucks."
"Fifty?" I raise an eyebrow.
"We raised the stakes after patient ten."
I laugh. "Smart betting."
Reid pulls off his gloves and leans against the nurses' station. We lock eyes and there it is again — that zing. Steady and warm and insistent, like a pulse.
Ask for his number. Just do it. Open your mouth, form the words, and?—
Tony appears, looking like he lost a fight with the night itself. "Let's go, man. I'm beat and we still need to restock the rig."
Reid straightens up, a wry grin on his face. "He's right. It was a long night." He looks at me. Holds it. "It was great getting to know you, Laine."
"Wait." The word comes out before I can think.
Reid pauses. "Yeah?"
Say it. Say "can I get your number." Say "I'd love to grab coffee." Say literally anything that isn't?—
"Nothing," I say. "Just... thanks. For tonight."
NOTHING? You said NOTHING? You stopped him — you literally said "wait" — and then you said NOTHING?
"Thank you. Really." Reid's expression is serious now. "You made a crazy night feel manageable."
