bluff, but then he nods and says, “See you tomorrow, then. Night, Gabs.” One hug and he’s gone.
When I hear the door lock behind him, I go to my office. How did my life get to be such a roller coaster? I shut myself off to the anger and sadness that seem to be ruling my emotions these days. I need to move past this or I’ll be a disaster waiting to happen. I can barely concentrate on my patients when I see them as it is. The couch becomes my bed as I curl on my side.
My phone vibrates.
“You’re still at the office, aren’t you?” Case asks.
“Yeah. I’m working on that billing I need to finish up.”
“You can at least be honest with me.”
“Okay. I’m not working.”
“Gabby, go home.”
“I can’t right this minute.”
“You need to get some sleep.”
“Case, you don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do.”
I sigh, my breath catching in my throat. “No, you don’t. The man I adore walked away from our life. I kissed him goodbye and he said he’d see me that night. He told me he’d be late because he had a meeting. And that was it. That’s the last time I spoke to him. You can’t understand. He didn’t die of some dreaded disease. He didn’t get killed in a horrific accident. He wasn’t beaten to death by some asswipe criminal. He just up and left. Walked away without a trace. And I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I’m doing the best I can, but don’t fucking tell me to go home and get some sleep because I can’t. His scent is all over our bed. It’s all over the place. Every time I inhale, he’s there, and I can’t fucking figure out why he’s gone.”
My lungs seize, a band around my chest and throat, and I can’t fucking get a breath in.
“Gabby?”
I hear him calling my name but panic takes over. The floor greets me as I roll off the couch and fall to my knees. Face tingling, palms sweaty, I’m fighting as hard as I can to get a grip on things, but the spots in my vision let me know I’ve lost the battle. I’ll pass out soon and things may normalize. Who knows? My heart rate is elevated and my blood pressure is undoubtedly high. Maybe I’ll expire of a heart attack. But then I think about HTS and freak even more. What will happen to the company if I die?
I force myself to breathe the way I need to, to help balance my oxygen and carbon dioxide levels. Soon I feel things level out. By that time, Case is rushing into my office and grabbing me off the floor.
“I’m okay.” The words come out in a pant.
He releases me. “Shit, you scared me! What happened?”
“Panic attack.” I’m still a little wheezy.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He throws his arms up in the air.
How dare he? How can he accuse me of anything?
“You think I did that on purpose? Get out.”
“No, that’s not what I think.”
“Case, just leave.” I’m tired and I don’t want to argue with him.
“But you were …”
I sit again and my head hangs down. Without looking at him, I say, “I appreciate you running back here. And I’m sorry about all this. But I’m doing the best I can. I meant what I said on the phone.” Deep breath, Gabby. “I can’t go home and go to sleep. Everyone has their own situation—you were dealt a shitty hand when you were mugged, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but you had a concrete issue. I’m dealing with something so abstract, I can’t even wrap my damn brain around it yet. But I’m trying. Honest to God, I’m trying. Every day I wake up and think, maybe today I’ll hear from him. Or maybe today, they’ll find his body. Or maybe today, I’ll get a ransom note. Or maybe today his creepy father will call and tell me he’s done something to him. But nothing. Every day is the same. So I carry on, but I feel like I’m dying inside because I don’t know what else to do or how to help him. And it’s the worst feeling in the world.”
“Jesus, Gabs. I wish I could do something.”
“I wish you could
When I hear the door lock behind him, I go to my office. How did my life get to be such a roller coaster? I shut myself off to the anger and sadness that seem to be ruling my emotions these days. I need to move past this or I’ll be a disaster waiting to happen. I can barely concentrate on my patients when I see them as it is. The couch becomes my bed as I curl on my side.
My phone vibrates.
“You’re still at the office, aren’t you?” Case asks.
“Yeah. I’m working on that billing I need to finish up.”
“You can at least be honest with me.”
“Okay. I’m not working.”
“Gabby, go home.”
“I can’t right this minute.”
“You need to get some sleep.”
“Case, you don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do.”
I sigh, my breath catching in my throat. “No, you don’t. The man I adore walked away from our life. I kissed him goodbye and he said he’d see me that night. He told me he’d be late because he had a meeting. And that was it. That’s the last time I spoke to him. You can’t understand. He didn’t die of some dreaded disease. He didn’t get killed in a horrific accident. He wasn’t beaten to death by some asswipe criminal. He just up and left. Walked away without a trace. And I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I’m doing the best I can, but don’t fucking tell me to go home and get some sleep because I can’t. His scent is all over our bed. It’s all over the place. Every time I inhale, he’s there, and I can’t fucking figure out why he’s gone.”
My lungs seize, a band around my chest and throat, and I can’t fucking get a breath in.
“Gabby?”
I hear him calling my name but panic takes over. The floor greets me as I roll off the couch and fall to my knees. Face tingling, palms sweaty, I’m fighting as hard as I can to get a grip on things, but the spots in my vision let me know I’ve lost the battle. I’ll pass out soon and things may normalize. Who knows? My heart rate is elevated and my blood pressure is undoubtedly high. Maybe I’ll expire of a heart attack. But then I think about HTS and freak even more. What will happen to the company if I die?
I force myself to breathe the way I need to, to help balance my oxygen and carbon dioxide levels. Soon I feel things level out. By that time, Case is rushing into my office and grabbing me off the floor.
“I’m okay.” The words come out in a pant.
He releases me. “Shit, you scared me! What happened?”
“Panic attack.” I’m still a little wheezy.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He throws his arms up in the air.
How dare he? How can he accuse me of anything?
“You think I did that on purpose? Get out.”
“No, that’s not what I think.”
“Case, just leave.” I’m tired and I don’t want to argue with him.
“But you were …”
I sit again and my head hangs down. Without looking at him, I say, “I appreciate you running back here. And I’m sorry about all this. But I’m doing the best I can. I meant what I said on the phone.” Deep breath, Gabby. “I can’t go home and go to sleep. Everyone has their own situation—you were dealt a shitty hand when you were mugged, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but you had a concrete issue. I’m dealing with something so abstract, I can’t even wrap my damn brain around it yet. But I’m trying. Honest to God, I’m trying. Every day I wake up and think, maybe today I’ll hear from him. Or maybe today, they’ll find his body. Or maybe today, I’ll get a ransom note. Or maybe today his creepy father will call and tell me he’s done something to him. But nothing. Every day is the same. So I carry on, but I feel like I’m dying inside because I don’t know what else to do or how to help him. And it’s the worst feeling in the world.”
“Jesus, Gabs. I wish I could do something.”
“I wish you could
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