Thirsty as a withered plant, Mike chugs water after a busy night in the ER. Some nights you never get a chance to slow down because of the patients to be seen. Last night was one of those nights. He had patients in trauma, acute, and non-life-threatening pods last night almost all night.
Leaning against the front window, he watches for that little sports car to whip into the parking garage. He has missed seeing Paige. His heart skips a beat as he sees the white car pull into the ramp and then move up the floors stopping on the top.
Paige grabs her things, locks the car, and walks to the elevator. She stops inhaling the wondrous smells of brewing coffee, chocolate, and cinnamon. She had missed those smells being stuck in her apartment. Even the exhaust fumes that were wafting up into the elevator are welcoming. Stepping off the elevator, she smiles hearing the shutting of car doors as other people arrive to begin their day.
He smiles watching her arm with the tote swing as she clutches the coffee in her other hand. Her walk is steady, she is smiling, and he thinks she looks wonderful. She must be feeling well too based on her movement down the sidewalk.
“Welcome back, Page,” he whispers, touching the cold pane of glass with his index finger.
She feels strong on the outside but with each step on the sidewalk, her strength seems to be evaporating. Her thoughts return to the football like tackle with her arm almost ripped from her socket as he grabbed the bag, and her head colliding with the sidewalk. Feeling a heaviness on her chest, she struggles to pull in air and her feet stop then her eyes close.
Mike sees her steps falter and knows she is reliving the day of the robbery. Without even thinking, he dashes out of his apartment to reach her. Dodging cars on the street, he reaches her side.
“Paige, you’re safe. Take a deep breath,” Mike quietly commands.
Her eyes snap open. She knows that voice.
“It’s you,” she whispers.