Push

9. He Saw the Girl

TOBY

I wasn't sure I'd live to see lunchtime.

Nicole's glare skewered me the second I walked through the door. She paused unpacking, her hand still stuck in the cardboard box of cups at her feet. Her mouth turned down.

I tried a smile. "Good morning, Nicole." Didn't work. Her glare narrowed to a knife-edge, so I quickly added, "Thank you for helping out at short notice."

"Thank you for paying for my trip to Europe next year."

I nodded once. Cleared my throat. Awkward. I didn't push my luck to ask Nicole how the traffic was on her commute across town. She didn't look like she was in the mood for my small talk.

I pulled up a stool, sat at the desk, and started clicking through patient records on the computer. Nicole prepped the treatment room. We didn't speak.

The silence unsettled me. There was none of the chatter I was used to working with Kayleigh. She filled all the empty spaces talking about books or poetry or how she was thinking about going back to university to do a Master's degree. She might have told me what she planned to study, but honestly, I never listened to the words. I just liked the noise.

Appointments started on time. Patients started shuffling nervously into the room. If I was worried about the tension straining tight between me and Nicole, I didn't need to be. She was pure sunshine...

Most of the time.

Every so often, I spied a smirk she reserved for my eyes only when she passed me one of my tools. Bet she was imagining how she could get her revenge with the shiny silver excavator so it wasn't so shiny anymore.

I blocked it out. Kept it one hundred percent professional. Nicole did, too. We were on the same page about one thing—patients came first. But wearing the facade that everything was fine was like wading through quicksand. Everything felt like ten times the effort. I needed out, and the second a gap popped up in my appointments, I escaped with a tired excuse about needing a coffee.

I wandered into the staff lounge. Opened the white cabinet overhead and grabbed a mug. Pressed a few buttons on the coffee machine. I wasn't excited. The coffee tasted like a mix of dirt and burnt tires, but any shot of caffeine was better than nothing. I was exhausted.

I didn't sleep much at the motel. I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, my eyes tracing over every wriggly unpatched crack, thinking about Gwen and Noah. Were they all tucked up? Were they safe? I hoped Gwen remembered to lock the garage door. She forgot sometimes. Usually, I was the one who double-checked the locks before hopping into bed... or crashing on the sofa.

I slumped against the countertop. My legs were suddenly too heavy to stand on their own. I'd give anything to be snuggled up next to Gwen. Hell, I'd give anything to be sleeping on the sofa.

I dug my phone out of my pocket. Checked my messages. Only one unread. 

Tobias, I know you're avoiding me. We'll talk when I return.

I closed the message without responding.  Even when she was lounging on the beaches of Samoa, my mother still found time to lecture me. She could wait.

I sighed. There were no new messages from Gwen. No new photos of Noah. Three days ago, I wouldn't even have bothered to check my phone. I rarely touched base with Gwen during my breaks. But now, there was a hollowness in my chest. I'd never felt so... lost.

A new realization punched the emptiness even deeper. This was probably how Gwen felt every day. Not just lonely but... alone.

My wake-up call was ringing. Things needed to change. I needed to change.