Final Truth

Chapter 50: Walk With Me

Cassia's point of view:

"You guys sure you've got everything covered for the rest of the night?" I ask my team of nurses, hesitant to leave them.

"Doctor, with all due respect, you've been working more than necessary for the past couple of days. You just had Kyle's funeral, and then you came right back to work to fit in three surgeries. Not only that, but yesterday you spent all your time training new healers without taking time off, and the day before, you were planning with Adam in between shifts. You can't function like this; you need sleep. Go home," one of the nurses tells me, imploring me to listen.

Her words wash over me with their truth, allowing me to feel how heavy my eyelids are, how stiff and sore my body is from standing. Even still, I hesitate; I've been in hiding for so long that to leave almost feels like abandonment.

"But..." I begin, but another one of my nurses cuts me off.

"Please Cassia, we have another doctor on the way here to take over while you go home. It looks like it's going to be a fairly easy night anyway, but if something does happen, we promise, you'll be notified immediately. Now go home, get some sleep; how can you take care of others when you're neglecting to take care of yourself?" The male nurse says, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I want to argue, want to make a point of staying here, but I'm out of excuses. In the end, they're right, and sleep is beginning to sound better by the second.

"Call me immediately if even something remotely worrisome happens. I mean it," I order the nurses, giving in with a sigh.

"Not to worry, Doctor. We'll be alright," the same male nurse says to me as I take slow steps out of the room, feeling as if a small load has just been lifted from my shoulders at the promise of rest awaiting me when I get home.

I head across the hall to a nearby bathroom, removing my gloves and washing my hands while staring at my reflection in the mirror, wishing I could undo the permanent bags under my eyes.

After splashing some water on my face and pulling my hair out of its ponytail, I take one last look at myself before leaving the bathroom to go downstairs.

When I get there, I'm pleased to see the waiting area beside the entrance to the hospital completely empty, unusual for most nights.

Well, almost completely empty, save for one overtly irritating while also exceedingly charismatic person looking at me with a sympathetic smile from one of the chairs.

"Cade, now don't tell me you've hit your head again," I say, intending to come across as sarcastic but sounding tired more than anything.

"Nothing like a good blow to my pride to start the conversation, Cass," Cade says, rising from his chair. "But no, I'm just here for you."

"I'm swooning on the inside."

He looks much better than I do, not crippled by sleep deprivation and overt worry. In fact, he looks handsome, what with his bright eyes and tan skin that has finally gone back to its normal color after I pulled him out of the rubble. It's not fair, and I want to punch him.

"What do you mean you're here for me?" I inquire.

But Cade just shrugs his shoulders and fiddles with his thumbs while saying, "Just figured I'd walk you home."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking home on my own, you know," I remind him, wondering why he feels the sudden need to escort me to my own house, gentlemanly or not.