No fairytale endings here

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“So dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? You’re the one who tried to die on a Sunday!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know the gates were closed on the weekends.” My voice cracked from misuse, but I managed to keep the sarcastic edge. “Next time I’ll check Hades’ office hours to make sure.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Dr. Lucas Andrews stressed and crossed his arms. “You’re not allowed to leave me. I thought we’d settled this last week.”

In response, I raised a brow. Or at least, I hoped I did. I was too exhausted for theatricals. “Leave you?”

“Yes. Me.” He stepped closer, eyes darting to the monitor on my left. Typical Lucas: sharp tongue but tender heart. “I’ve been working hard on keeping you alive but you keep challenging me."

His stethoscope slid off his neck. He worked it in his ears and warmed the other end before placing it on my chest. I didn’t say anything. Only breathed and let him study his beloved thuds.

He fretted, nodded, mumbled medical jargon I didn’t pretend to understand. It was a whole ritual. Because he didn't trust the machines when it came to me. And I didn’t intervene—not when I saw his tension easing once he’d realized I was okay.

“I’m not sure what happened,” I said, shifting on the mattress.

All of my muscles ached, so I couldn’t tell what’d freaked him out this time. My ribs were still bruised, my chest tight, my side stinging and burning from the new stitches. Surviving a car crash was no joke. Plus, my memory faltered.

“You caught an infection,” he replied. “Post-op complications. And you spiked a fever and spent the last two days mostly out of it.”

“That explains it,” I murmured. No wonder I felt like crap. And Lucas was hovering again.

“But you’re on the mend now. And you better keep it that way, Ava,” he added.

“Right. I can’t leave you. Got it.” My eyelids fluttered closed.

Lucas shuffled around. Checked my chart. Wrote things down and updated my status. I didn't have to see it to know him. He'd become predictable.

“Wait,” I said, refusing to sleep yet. His head cocked to the side. “You’re in scrubs.”

“Was I supposed to parade in here naked? What kind of fever dreams have you been having?” he teased, the corner of his mouth tipping up.

“Asshole,” I threw back and didn’t protest when he sat next to my blanketed feet. “You had that thing this week.”

I couldn’t remember what the thing was. Only that he was supposed to be off work. He’d mentioned it on our last date, I was sure.

“Do you even remember why I took the time off?”

Busted.

I shook my head, then grimaced at the pain the movement shot through my skull.

His shoulders sagged. Ambivalence flashed across his features, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t master the courage. And he gave me one of those sad looks—the kind I’d started to get used to lately.

It was his I'm sorry I can’t stay the night look. His I wish I could see you for longer than thirty minutes between our shifts look. And most recently, his please, don’t code look.

Three months of dating and I’d already scarred the man. And this time, I couldn’t even blame his flare for the dramatics. I’d nearly died on him. That ought to shake a person.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said, stretching a hand to reach my thigh. His thumb started stroking my covered skin, comforting, warm.

I glanced at the door to make sure nobody noticed our ill-placed proximity. Conflict of interest was my enemy these days.

“Later’s good.” I tried to smile but couldn’t tell if I succeeded.

“Sleep,” he cajoled, “I’ll be around.”

***

Days had passed. The fever was gone. And today, I was irritated by my wounded body’s limitations instead of sweating through the bedsheets and speaking through a haze.

“Wow. You look like shit,” I said the second Lucas walked in. My mouth watered at the cups of Jell-O in his hands. Different colors, thus different flavors. Yes!

“And you look like a ray of fucking sunshine.” He grinned at me—hyperbolic and saccharine.

I rolled my eyes. “All I’m saying is you should go home and sleep in your bed for once. I’m fine. And if you keep sticking around my room, everyone will know you’re not just my doctor.”

Lucas shrugged and dropped a quick kiss atop my head. “I don’t care. You’ll be out of here soon.” After flopping in the chair beside my bed, his elbows rested on the mattress.

I perked up at his response. Finally. Two weeks here and I was losing my mind.

“How soon?” I asked.

“Soon,” he repeated, reaching for my cheek.

He hadn’t been mitigating his gentleness, but the way he caressed my skin now made my spine tingle. I wanted to lean into the touch; to savor the closeness we'd been rationing.

“Your labs look promising. The infection’s clearing. You’ve got your color back and your last x-ray looked okay.” He made a face, “—ish.”

I nodded. I’d hoped for better news, but I wasn’t going to complain.

Lucas gave me another kiss, on my forehead this time. “You do look tired,” the words tumbled out of me before I could stop them. They were quiet. Almost timid. And suffused with worry I didn’t try to hide.

I already knew he’d skipped the time off. Had picked extra shifts when requested. Even pretended to be too tired to drive home on some nights and lingered on the ward, just to stay close to me.

“And you look beautiful. Have I said that?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

He sighed. Started toying with the hem of my pajama shirt. Gulped. “I went home when your mom was here and napped until visiting hours were over. And I didn’t return until an hour before my shift.”

“But your shift is over. And you’re still lingering,” I said.

I didn’t want him to leave, but I felt guilty.

We were still getting to know each other and led busy lives. A three-month-long relationship was too new to carry the weight of sleepless nights, recovery plans and hospital rooms. Not to mention, I couldn’t even remember the car accident. That whole day was a blur. And I hadn’t asked how he’d ended up treating me—or how he was coping with it.

“Ava,” he scooted closer, the chair scraping across the floor.

Even the way he said my name tipped me off. He wasn’t just tired. Something was wrong.

“I want to be here to take care of you. Not out of obligation. Not because I was—” he stopped, clenched his jaw and didn’t finish the sentence.

His demeanor shifted. His mouth tightened. “Do you want me to leave?”

Honesty clawed up my chest, thick, threatening to choke me if I swallowed it down. And I didn’t want to spend another evening alone in this room. “Not really,” I said.

The last month, Lucas and I had been spending as many nights as his rotating schedule allowed together. And I’d gotten used to sleeping in cotton shirts stolen from his backpack or drawer. Smelling like his laundry detergent or cologne. With his palm on my hip and his stubble grazing my shoulder.

Now I hesitated every time I wanted to brush a dark lock of hair out of his eyes. And whenever I wanted to play with his fingers. Or when his scrubs outlined his backside in such a perfect way, it’d be a shame not to ogle.

“Then I’ll stay,” he said, softening again. “Who’s your nurse tonight?”

“Alicia.”

He smirked. Alicia was one of his work friends. And she wouldn’t rat us out. “I’m definitely staying.”

His hand reached for mine. Our fingers tangled. “Now, I have a very important question to ask you.”

“What is it?”

His brow twitched. “Pineapple or cherry? What kind of Jell-O are you craving tonight?”

Important question, indeed. What a clown.

I huffed a laugh and pulled him toward me. The food could wait. But the hugs I’d been deprived of for days couldn’t.

I didn’t need much, I decided. Just ten minutes of his warmth. A couple of jokes. A few spoonfuls of Jell-O.

And maybe some kisses too—with mixed flavors.

***

The day before I was going to be discharged, the gaps filled in.

Being wheeled into the ER, barely conscious. Gasping for air and looking for Lucas, despite knowing he didn’t work on that floor. The ambulance ride. The time I spent stuck in my wrecked car, waiting for the paramedics. The fact I called Lucas instead of nine-one-one, because I was in shock and terrified, and he’d been the last person on my mind before the crash. The screaming tires and clinking metal after the impact. The red light the other driver ignored before our collision. The regrets I was running away from before ending up in the hospital.

And then… the reason I’d run away.

Fuck. My. Life.

I’d broken up with him. I remembered it.

We’d agreed on giving long-distance a shot. I’d accepted a job offer, which was located in a city two hours away, and he’d helped me find a new place. We were going to pack his car with the last of my stuff, drive there and set the new apartment up together. That was why he’d requested a few days off. He’d even celebrated with me and my friends, instead of trying to hold me back, dismissing the implications of my sudden move.

But I’d changed my mind last minute. And I’d decided to move into my new place a week early. Without him.

I hadn’t planned to, but I’d ruined us.

Maybe that was why the accident had happened. To punish me for giving up. For hurting him, disappointing him. And for not listening to my own heart, which had been whispering I love you’s for days before I tossed it—and him—aside.

Because I did love him. Truly. I hadn’t fallen fast, but I’d fallen hard. Twenty-eight years old and I’d been skirting around romance mostly unscathed. Until now. Until him.

I knew I could’ve stayed, but the job was too good to refuse. I could’ve drowned my fears and trusted his promises, but I didn’t know how to let go like that. I hadn’t experienced it before; this freefalling.

Everything was bigger with him. The feelings; the fear; the potential fallout. So I’d panicked. I didn’t know how to live in the moment, like Lucas encouraged me to. Or how to breathe around our unfavorable odds.

But I’d thought… if I never uttered those three little words, perhaps I’d be spared the heartbreak. And if I ended it as abruptly as I’d had, then he wouldn’t try to fix us.

What an idiot I'd been.

***

“Why are you still here, Lucas?” I asked him when he came back after a quick coffee run.

My sharp tone stopped him dead in his tracks. His shoulders squared. And his fingers tightened around the steaming paper cup.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He looked more suspicious than clueless.

“I remembered the accident. And the rest of my memories are clearing up.”

He nodded and moved again. Perhaps he was buying himself some time. Or giving me a second. Anyhow, he didn’t approach the spot I was standing on by the window. Didn’t invade my space or walk out.

Always devoted, that man. Steady and considerate, even though I’d hurt him. He didn’t run away, no matter how hard things were. And he wasn’t a coward when he cared. Unlike me.

“Do you remember calling me in a panic when you couldn’t get yourself out of the car?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Seeing the way he fidgeted while sitting on the empty bed, my own muscles relaxed. Not because the tension had eased, but because I didn’t need a defensive façade at the moment.

It was obvious. He wasn’t going to blame me for all the things I was already blaming myself.

“Do you remember what you said?”

I didn’t. There were still gaps around the parts my brain was piecing together. Some were bright and loud—some foggy. I remembered the ambulance sirens but not the paramedics talking to me. I could nearly smell the pungent whiff of gasoline but didn’t recall the phone call. I knew I’d talked to him but couldn’t remember a single word of what I’d said.

“You told me you were cold and that your chest hurt.”

Blood loss. And the bruised ribs.

“I asked where you were and you said you were leaving.”

Right. I’d been driving out of town.

He held my gaze before speaking again. And his throat bobbed. “You scared the shit out of me, you know? I thought you’d called to apologize. Or to scream at me, I don’t know. But instead, you were wheezing and bleeding out and I couldn’t do anything. I could only keep you calm until the ambulance arrived and they whisked you away.”

“Maybe that was all I needed from you,” I said, resisting the urge to fall into his arms to comfort us both.

“You said you didn’t want to be alone. And that—” his mouth pursed, cutting the rest of his confession. His eyes fleeted.

“What?” I decided to push this time. I didn’t want another unfinished sentence hanging over our heads.

His chin lowered. “And that you loved me,” he whispered.

I sucked a breath in. Blinked. Swallowed.

Dear GOD, Ava!

I’d said it after all.

I’d fucking said it.

The heartbreak was inevitable now.

“Did you say it back?” For some reason, that was the question that came out. As if that was my biggest concern amongst a sea of problems.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course.”

I nodded. Feigned introspection. “Any other groundbreaking confessions I should know about? Famous last words? Embarrassing secrets I revealed before passing out?”

His lips twitched with mirth. ”No,” he shook his head. “You just asked me to stay with you.”

“Good,” I said and stepped closer to him. “Because it doesn’t change anything. I’m still moving away.”

“I know.”

I brushed his hair aside. Gave him a small smile. And cupped his jaw. “But I’m not taking it back either.”

“What?”

“The ‘I love you’. I may regret everything else, but I don’t regret that. I meant it too. Even though I’ve messed up.”

He pulled me into his lap—careful but eager. I let him.

“You’ll give me gray hairs at thirty-three. I’ll die young because of you, Ava.”

My nose brushed against his. I felt his pulse thudding against my fingers. And I kissed the corner of his mouth: firm but brief.

“Stop whining,” I said, “and kiss me.”

It wasn’t an apology. It didn’t fix anything. And the time—as well as the place—was completely inappropriate.

I was living in the moment though.

Wasn’t that what he’d wanted?