Heartburn: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) by Tarrah Anders (best ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“Just let me go.”

24

Rogan

I saw that as soon as we walked out of the doors from the baby shower, that Kindra’s body language was different. I saw the slouch in her shoulders and the tears that she was fighting back. Upon arriving at her home, I didn’t expect her to drop the break-up bomb on me. I wasn’t expecting that one afternoon, basking in the happiness of someone else would change things.

She avoided me the following night at the hospital. She kept her eyes downcast and only spoke to me when it was needed, despite my trying to interact with her.

I stand at the elevator door and Kindra comes to stand beside me. She’s silent, looking up at the status of the lift as the doors open. She walks in and I follow. Her hands are fastened in front of her after she presses for the fourth floor button. She steps back and leans against the wall. I press the stop button and turn to her as she stands straight.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“You can’t hide from me forever. We work together, we mean something to one another, and I don’t want one party to end us.”

“That’s not your call,” she says with her hands on her hips.

“I think that I should at least have a say.” I tell her.

“Say what you need to say,” she says, not backing down.

“I want you. I want us.”

“Rogan,” she starts.

“No. This time I get a say in what happens between us. Before, you gave me no choice, but this time it’s different. We’re grown adults, we shouldn’t give up whenever there’s a bump in the road, we work on those together. We have a past, and granted that past isn’t pretty, but we can also have a future and that’s what I’m here to make sure we do.”

“Rogan,” she tries to butt in again.

“I’m not done talking, Kindra. I need you to hear me out. We were stupid kids. Back then we didn’t know any better, but who does when they’re teenagers. We made mistakes, some big and some small, but we were wild about one another back then. And I’m still wild about you now. I don’t think that I ever let go of you, of us. I’m practically begging you, fight against the insecurities, fight for you, fight for me, and damnit, fight for us.”

Epilogue

Kindra

The past six months have been a challenge, one that I was ready for, but definitely one I didn’t see coming. I worked on the steps to bridging the gap that was damaged so many years ago within my family. My parents now see me for who I am today and not by judging me from my actions when I was younger. My father slowly has allowed me back into their home, and along the way he has treated me like his daughter. My relationship with Rogan has been a unique experience all together. We had one another, and then I blew everything up by walking away from him.

I couldn’t deal with being at the baby shower with Rogan by my side, and so I broke things off with him. I ran. Like I always did.

I expected him to just go on with his life, as if what we had started was a glitch in his daily life. But he gave me some space before he came to me.

I wanted him to fall back in love with me. And he did. And I admitted that I never was out of love with him. It took talking to a mental health therapist about the trauma from the accident that I thought I had gotten over. But I had just bottled everything up. I left town all those years ago and dove straight into something else, which was to prove to my parents that they were wrong about me. I amounted to something. I worked my ass off for it, and I made something of myself. I never let the loss of both my unborn child and my high school love set in. I powered through everything and moved on with my life. I continue to meet with my therapist, even today. Sometimes Rogan comes with me and sometimes I go alone.

Rogan and I have a routine now. Work, sleep, therapy, and home.

We moved in together, or I should clarify that I moved in with him. And at home, we leave work at the door. We relish in our relationship and we talk. Really talk. About the good and even the ugly. There are no lines about what we say. We both listen and it’s clear that we both care immensely. Sure, sometimes we fight, but we get through it. We laugh often and sometimes we cry, the both of us.

There is catching up on the last eleven years of our lives, simultaneously, while starting on the future days of our lives. And I feel optimistic about our future.

“Nurse Mason?” a shaky voice says from behind me.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts as an intern comes into the break room where I am having my lunch.

“Can I help you?” I ask, not recognizing her.

“I was told to find you.” She says staring at her feet, “Dr. Quinn is requesting your service.”

“Did he say what for?” I ask.

“He said that he needs you to consult on a case.”

I push back in my chair and stand as I straighten my scrubs, then follow the girl out of the room.

She leads me into the practically empty emergency room. There are a few beds with people in them and curtains around them. I don’t see anyone, let alone Rogan, then suddenly I hear music and the emergency room doors slide open. Two people come inside and are mouthing the beginning lines of a Bruno Mars song. They act verses of the song out and then when the chorus comes along, Rogan is spinning around