Chapter Fourteen

 

I open my eyes to the crack of sunlight sneaking in through the blinds. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. Scarlett rolls over and into my arms and I smile as last night comes back to me. I can still taste her on my lips.

Fumbling for my phone, I see a missed call from my father. I ease myself out from under her and get up, tiptoeing into the living room. I pour myself a coffee as I dial Dad’s number.

“What’s up?” I ask when he answers.

“Howes is trying to get ahold of Scarlett. I don’t suppose you have any idea where she is?” He knows I’m with her. I can hear the disapproval in his voice.

“Is everything all right?” I ask. “Is Jake okay?”

“He’s fine, he just wants to talk to her about the trial. Can you pass that on to her?”

“I can do that,” I say.

“Oh, and Ryder? I was going to tell you that long distance relationships never work. But then I remembered who I was talking to,” he chuckles.

“Great. Thanks for the vote of confidence there,” I mutter.

“Come on, Ryder. If this girl is as nice as you obviously think she is, don’t mess her around. You’ve never been serious about anything in your life,” he laughs harshly. Anger boils inside me.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ve gotta go.” I hang up and lean against the table. I can pretend his words haven’t gotten to me, but I’d be lying.

“Who was that?”

I turn around. Scarlett stands there, the white sheet from the bed draped around her. I smile, because all I want to do every time I set eyes on her is smile.

“My dad. Howes needs to talk to you about the trial.”

Her eyes widen. She rushes over to the coffee table where her phone sits. “Shit. How could I not have taken this to bed with me? What if something had happened?” she frets.

“Scar, it’s okay. Everything is fine. Go get dressed and I’ll drive you over there.”

She looks at me gratefully and runs into the bedroom. I pour her a coffee and then sit down. Dad’s words are echoing in my head. She walks back into the room a few minutes later, drying her hair with a towel. She gathers her still damp hair into a ponytail and grabs her purse. I stand up.

“Will you come in with me?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say. I’m flattered that she wants me there, and then I remember how much of a huge deal this is. Who else does she know over here?

**

She’s fidgeting as we sit in the waiting room. I reach for her hand and offer her a smile, but I know there’s not much that I can say right now to make her feel any less anxious. I can’t even imagine what’s going through her head.

“I’m so scared,” she laughs. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but . . .” She shakes her head.

I squeeze her hand. I’m about to reassure her when her name is called.

We both stand up. Professor Howes is younger than I was expecting: in his mid to late thirties, with a thick mop of dark hair and kind blue eyes. He has a friendly face that I find oddly comforting. He nods at me as we walk past him and into his office.

“Scarlett, take a seat. Is this your partner?” He’s referring to me. I leave that question for her to answer.

“Uh, this is Ryder Stevens.”

“Right,” he says enthusiastically. Recognition flickers in his eyes. “How’s the injury?”

My face heats up and Scarlett sniggers.

“Fine,” I reply, embarrassed. My broken arse is what I’m known for now.

He turns his attention back to Scarlett. “So, I’ve got good news. The testing we did on Jake shows that he is in fact a suitable candidate for the drug. We are happy to include him in the study.”

“Oh, God, thank you so much.” Her hands fly to her face. She’s overwhelmed with emotion. I smile at her as she wipes away tears, and realize I’m holding them back myself.

“The trial will begin in six weeks. You’ll need to be here for eight weeks, and then back for three follow-up appointments six weeks apart. Is any of that going to be a problem?”

“No problem at all,” I answer before she does, because I’ve already decided I’m going to cover all the costs.

“Good. He will need to have some more tests, but they can be done back in Chicago.” He pushes a clear plastic folder across the table. “This is the paperwork I’ll need you and Jake’s specialist to fill out. He can fax it back to me.”

“Thank you so much,” she whispers again. She stands up and extends her hand.

He takes it, his kind eyes levelling on hers. “Scarlett, I’m hopeful this trial will show significant improvements in at least some of the patients, but just remember it is just a trial. This isn’t a guarantee, okay?”

“I understand that, professor.” She smiles sadly. “But I need to believe this is going to work. I have to believe he is going to be okay.”

 

 

We leave the office, and I drop Scarlett off on Jake’s floor. She’s still in shock. Her final words to the professor are playing over and over in my head.

“I can’t believe I’m going home tomorrow.”

“I can’t either,” I mumble.

I’m not used to the empty feeling that I have in the pit of my stomach. I’m trying to convince myself that it doesn’t matter. This—whatever it is—cannot go anywhere. We are too different. We have completely different lives. We live in different countries, for God’s sake.

“The good news is he was approved for the trial, right? That’s the most important thing,” I say. And I mean it. It feels good that I was able to help them in some way.

“Right,” she smiles. “Want to meet me later?”

“Do you even need to ask?” I grin.