Page 62 of Parallel

Fear propels me from my seat. “Jeff, you stay here and finish the conversation,” I say breathlessly. “Find out the options. I have some questions to ask Dr. Reilly outside.”

Without waiting to hear Jeff’s protests, I place my hand against Nick’s chest and push. He doesn’t move a muscle, even with all my force behind it, but I glance up at him, a silent plea, and he gives in, slowly leaving the room with me in his wake.

Nick is rigid as we walk to his office. I suspect it’s taking every ounce of self-restraint not to turn on his heel and pull Jeff back out of his seat.

He opens his door and ushers me in. The last time I was here I refused to look at his photos because I was so terrified I’d see a wife and kids. I’m still terrified by what I’ll see, but this time I look anyway. There’s one of him with his parents, one with him and a bunch of guys in suits…and one of a very pretty woman in scrubs who must be his girlfriend. I wish I hadn’t looked.

He shuts the door, but instead of taking his seat at the desk, he turns to me, standing closer than is safe for either of us. “Are you okay?”

I nod, my shoulders dropping. What Dr. Patel just told us was a shock only briefly. The truth is, I’d never hoped for much in the first place. “I got the feeling from you a long time ago it wasn’t likely to work out. I knew what to expect.”

His eyes close and he leans his shoulder against the wall. “I’m not giving up. I still think there are people who can help us.”

“Maybe,” I sigh. It’s a long shot, but I’ll cling to whatever hope I can find at the moment. “I should probably get back in there.”

Nick moves, closing me in. “So, did you actually have something to discuss with me, or were you just trying to keep me from kicking his ass?”

He’s so damn cocky, and it only makes him more attractive to me. I just learned I’m definitely going to die, but here I stand with lust my primary emotion. “You say that like you know you’d have won.”

He steps toward me—far, far too close. My breath comes in tiny sips. His hand rises, the tips of his fingers grazing my cheekbone as he pushes my hair back, but instead of pulling away, his hand hovers there—cupped, ready to descend at any moment to cradle my jaw. “I’d have won.”

God, I want to lean into the warmth of his palm. “I—”

“Tell me what to do,” he says hoarsely. “I refuse to give up on this. There’s got to be a way to find Rose or someone else and go back to fix things. I will do any fucking thing you name if it will help us figure this out.”

There’s a desperation on his face that I remember. I saw it when he kissed me for the first time in high school. When I was in the hospital and my blood pressure dropped. When I walked out of the diner’s bathroom on Tuesday and told him Rose was gone. His eyes flicker to my mouth, and the pull toward him is so strong it takes all my willpower not to close the distance between us. “I…I can’t think of anything.”

He swallows. “I’m going to the lake tomorrow. You could come with me. See the house, the dock. Maybe it would jar something.”

For a single moment I allow myself to imagine it: the two of us, the way I remember. Him swimming out to me, lifting himself into the boat without effort. The breeze in my hair, the sun beating down on us. His slick hands on my skin.

I want it so badly. And it terrifies me at the same time. “I can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything wrong. You’d have your own room. You don’t even have to stay. Just come out for a few hours.”

I shake my head even as some distant part of my brain tries to rationalize agreement. I want to tell myself it’s an investigation, altruistic in some way. It’s not. “Imagine if the situation were reversed,” I say softly. “Imagine that I’m engaged to you, and while you’re out of town, I go stay at the lake with another guy. Would you think that was okay?”

He is silent, the answer written in the throb of his jawline. “I wouldn’t be leaving you this weekend in the first place.”

I go on my toes to press my mouth to his cheek. “I know,” I reply.

My chest aches as I walk out the door.

30

QUINN

Jeff emerges from Dr. Patel’s office to find me sitting in the waiting room. We walk out to the car in silence and the crowd shifts away from us, fearful our unhappiness might prove contagious.

We get to the car. He puts the key in the ignition, but doesn’t turn it, shifting in his seat to face me instead. He seems less angry than he does incredulous. “Why are you being like this? Why are you just giving up?”

“There’s nothing to give up,” I say softly. “You heard the doctor yourself. There is no chance of survival. None.”

“But he can give you time!” Jeff cries. “And you have no idea how much time he could give you because you wouldn’t even let him speak. You just accepted the first thing he said like we were discussing a car repair. You didn’t even seem surprised.”

“I wasn’t. I’d already spoken to Nick and I—”

“Nick,” he sneers. “Since when are you and Nick best fucking friends?”