Eve: Drink Of Me (F&L Story #2)

Eve: part 10

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Part 10

May 21, 2010, Friday.

Eve couldn't face him. Hell, she couldn't look herself in the mirror. She woke up, not feeling her usual morning cheeriness, went to work, called Carey to tell him she wasn't feeling well and didn't want to infect him with anything, and went to bed early.

*****

May 22, 2010, Saturday.

Eve skipped out on her brother again. Clint had been hanging out in the corridors for two days, waiting for a glance of her blond head and brilliant blue eyes. He didn't want to speak to her, but knowing that he may be the reason she was avoiding her brother irked him. But for the hundredth time that day, he reminded himself that he was Carey's doctor, not Eve's psychiatrist. Her problems were not his. And he couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do.

*****

May 23, 2010, Sunday.

Eve stirred the soggy Cheerios in her bowl as she debated on whether to go see Carey. The bar closed on Sundays after the lunch rush, and now it was three o'clock, and she had nothing to do for the next six to seven hours.

She could always call Sage and arrange for her to sneak Carey down to an obscure part of the hospital, and Eve could meet him there. She sighed heavily. Truth be told, Clint was the reason she was thinking up ways to visit her brother incognito. However, it was Sunday. Chances were that the sexy doctor wouldn't be at the hospital at all. And Dr. Rudy's replacement should be actively caring for Rudy's patients by now.

Just as she rose to dump her cereal in the sink, her doorbell rang. Thinking her parents were finally checking on the health of their absentee daughter, she called out, “Come on in!”

A few seconds later... “Nice place,” Clint said behind her. Eve jumped out of her skin. He grinned. “You have a thing for purple?”

She glanced at the deep eggplant color of her kitchen walls, that bled into the lavender of her dining room, that turned a corner to lead back to the front room, painted in a swirling violet/plum pattern. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Emma let me paint these rooms, as long as I didn't touch her bedroom or bathroom.”

He crossed his arms over his sculpted chest and eyed her steadily. “Emma? The best friend?”

“My roommate...well, former roommate. She moved out.” She turned her back to him and looked at the sink. “Why are you here?”

“Your brother asked me to check on you. He's worried.” He said that, slathering on heavy guilt, and Eve had to swallow down the vile of shame in her throat.

“He could have asked Mom and Dad,” she said.

“He didn't want them to be worried,” Clint informed. “So, I can assume that you're not lying in a puddle of blood or dying in any other horrible fashion?”