Page 10 of The Candle Palace (Jamison Valley 6)
Who was Jess? A coworker? A relative? A girlfriend?
“What’s the plan for today, Sara?” Kirk asked, taking the seat in the corner. Before I could answer, he noticed Teresa was gone. “Where’s your mom?”
Milo looked to his lap without an answer.
It didn’t take Kirk more than a moment to find the tray by the sink and the heap of food-stained towels. But instead of scolding his son, Kirk simply mouthed me an apology and dropped his gaze to the floor.
“Teresa went to the cafeteria to get Milo a milkshake,” I told Kirk.
“Okay. I’ll go find her.” He pushed up from the chair, but before leaving, he stopped at the end of Milo’s bed to squeeze his son’s foot through the blanket.
When he left the room, Milo’s deep voice was no more than a whisper. “I wish they’d leave.”
“Why?” If I was in this kind of pain, all I’d want was my dad close. An impossibility, now that he was gone.
“It’s my own damn fault I’m here. I don’t need them hanging around, getting behind on things at home and making me feel even more guilty than I already do.”
There were patients here who’d kill for their parents to sit by their sides. To have someone who could sympathize with their pain. Teresa and Kirk were here to support him and to ease some of their own worries. In pain or not, it wasn’t fair for Milo to wish that away from them.
“They’re here because they care. Because they’re worried and they love you.” It came out angrier than I’d planned. “You’re lucky to have them.”
Milo matched my tone. “How is this your business?”
It was the first time he’d snapped at me. He was right, it wasn’t my business. But his angry voice slashed through me like a sharp knife and I shied away from the bed. “It’s not. Excuse me.”
I spun from the room, going for the supply area. I needed a few moments alone to detach and heal my pride. I should have kept my mouth shut. His family’s dynamic was not my concern.
Why had I inserted myself? I’d never had a problem staying out of the mix before. The only family I’d ever really gotten to know was Luna’s and that wasn’t so much me putting myself out there as them pulling me in.
Why was I so concerned, so invested, in Milo’s situation? I’d only known him a day. But those damn kind eyes had sucked me in.
Yesterday, as I’d changed his dressings, he’d only cried out once. Only once, that very first roar. From then on out, he’d kept it all inside. When Dr. Vernon had come in to debride one of the larger burns on Milo’s torso, he’d laid like a statue.
I wouldn’t have cared if he’d yelled or screamed. There was nothing to be ashamed of—if a scream or cry helped someone survive the pain, then I was all for it. But Milo held himself like a rock weathering a thunderstorm.
I’d never seen that kind of endurance before.
Even with the morphine and numbing agents applied to the area, Milo had been in pain. His fists and legs had shaken as he’d borne Dr. Vernon’s procedure. His teeth grinding together had been the loudest sound in the operating room.
Milo hadn’t asked for more drugs or nitrous oxide. Instead, he’d lain there taking the pain like it was a penance.
His courage had endeared me to him yesterday. And today I found him just as handsome as ever.
Even with the burns, even with his broken spirit, Milo Phillips had this glint in his eyes when he looked at me that made my heart race. He was a magnet. What I should have done was taken the other side of the unit today. I should have given myself some space from Milo.
But when Kym had asked which rooms I’d wanted, I hadn’t hesitated for a second.
I regretted that now. Now that I’d made a fool of myself thinking I had the right to tell Milo how he should treat his parents.
What is wrong with me? I’d crossed the line. I owed him an apology.
I shook my head and gathered up new dressings, taking the time to let my shame fade. Then, with arms loaded once again, I returned to Milo’s room.
He was alone but a milkshake glass was in his bandaged hand, the green straw to his lips.
I pulled in the corners of my mouth to hide a victorious smile. The milkshake was a good start. He’d at least heard something I’d said earlier.
“I’m sorry.” His apology caught me off guard because I’d been about to say the same thing.
