I rolled my eyes. “If I need to unload, I’ll find myself a therapist.”
“Ouch. I feel like you’re stomping all over our nicely functional friendship here, Im,” Lee laughed and I knew he wasn’t serious. He respected my boundaries. And I had lots of them.
I polished off the rest of my wine and leaned back against the counter. My head felt a little fuzzy from drinking the alcohol so fast.
“Do you believe in fate?” I asked suddenly.
Lee gave me the bitch-you-be-crazy look. “No. I don’t think anything in life is pre-destined. It’s all coincidental or the consequence of choices.”
“What about second chances? Do you think they’re possible?”
My good buddy put his empty wine glass down and gave me a hard stare. “What’s this about, Imogen? Did something happen today? You’re being especially vague this evening.”
Yoss was the secret of my heart I had always refused to tell.
And now I had found him again.
But it wasn’t some sort of fairytale ending.
He was lying in a hospital room, badly beaten. Angry. Alone.
He had said words that hurt.
He acted as though he wanted nothing to do with me.
But he was here.
I had waited years to find out what had happened.
Years.
I smiled at Lee. “It was an unusual day.”
“Well that’s cryptic. You know I hate that shit. It’s up there those overly cute engagement photos and birth announcements people plaster all over social media. I mean who has time for all that crap?” Lee grabbed a fork and took a bite of my nuked pasta. “Damn, that’s hot! I think I lost a layer of skin from my tongue!”
“Let that teach you to not eat my food,” I remarked primly, picking up my plate and carrying it into the living room.
“So tell me how your day was so unusual,” Lee prompted, sitting on my settee and propping his feet up on my coffee table, just because he knew it would annoy me.
“I was given a new case,” I said, shoving food in my mouth. I hated cooking. So my diet typically consisted of pre-prepared meals and boxes of cookies. I liked cooking, but could never summon the energy required to actually bother.
“Oh yeah? Do tell.” Lee sat up, looking interested.
“This homeless guy was brought in. No one knew who he was,” I began.
“Oh, a mystery. Well that makes things interesting at least. Any luck?”
I wrapped pasta around my fork but didn’t eat it. I had suddenly lost my appetite.
“Im, did you find out who he was?” Lee prompted when I didn’t answer.
I dropped my fork on the plate and gave my friend a strained smile.
“Not yet.”
And it was true. I didn’t know who he was now.
But I’d learn.
I wasn’t going to lose the chance to find out exactly who Yoss Frazier had become.
Lee didn’t stay that long. He got a call from Kevin twenty minutes later and my neighbor left to have dinner with his boyfriend.
“When you find out more about this mystery patient, let me know. It sounds intriguing,” Lee said, kissing my cheek before he left.
“Sure thing.”
After he was gone, I cleaned up the dishes, changed into a pair of leggings and a baggy shirt, then sat down on the couch, flipping through channels. But I couldn’t concentrate on television.
My mind was somewhere else. With someone else.
Right now, that someone was lying in a hospital bed only five miles away. The knowledge that he was so close made me feel restless and full of an indescribably energy.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after eight. It was late, but I knew I’d never be able to settle down.
I just needed to see him. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
So I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door.
“What are you doing here this time of night, Imogen?”
I gave Michelle, one of the nurses on duty, a sheepish smile. “Couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking about all the paperwork I have to do in the morning.”
Michelle shook her head. “You’re crazy, girl.”
That was the understatement of the day.
I glanced towards room 102. “How was he this evening?” I asked.
“He’s been in and out of consciousness. Dr. Howell came by just before he left for the day to update us on the blood work that came back. It wasn’t good. But the doc was going to wait and speak to Mr. Frazier when he was more lucid.”
My stomach flipped over and my head felt fuzzy. “Not good? What did the tests say?”
“His panels indicate that he has hepatitis B. We need to run more tests to see the extent of the disease and what the treatment options are, but Dr. Howell didn’t appear overly optimistic given the level of viral proteins in his blood and his already jaundiced skin. He needs to determine whether there’s damage to his liver and if so, how bad it is.”
Michelle’s words seemed to come to me through a fog.
“Hepatitis B,” I repeated. I had worked in a hospital long enough to know how serious that was.
How potentially life threatening it could be if left untreated.
“It’s so sad. But given his lifestyle, it’s not surprising.”