Still, it didn’t take away the twinge of regret she felt whenever she saw him. Whatever she’d wanted, Ethan was a good man, and she’d hurt him badly.
He nodded when she entered the room, a curt greeting falling from his lips. “Dylan.”
“Ethan,” she replied, equally brisk.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked, pulling on a pair of gloves.
“I feel fine, thanks,” she replied, shrugging off her jacket.
He pushed up the short sleeve of her shirt and examined the scar left by the gunshot wound. “This looks good. The muscle has healed well, and there are no signs of infection. You should have full use of your arm by now.”
“I do,” she said.
“Does it hurt at all when you move?” he asked.
“Nope, not in days,” she said.
“Good,” he said, stepping away. “Just keep an eye on it.”
“Thanks,” Dylan said, putting her jacket back on. While winter had passed, there was still a slight chill in the air, especially inside the shadowed confines of the infirmary. With its wall to wall tiles and minimum furniture, the place lacked warmth and comfort. “Can I go now?”
“Yes, of course,” Ethan said with a quick nod.
She jumped off the bed and was about to leave when Ethan cleared his throat. She turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Anything else, Doc?”
“Yes, actually there is,” Ethan said. “I know things haven’t been great between us—”
Dylan snorted. “Great? That’s an understatement. Ever since I told you my story, you’ve treated me like a leper.”
Ethan gazed at her, his expression enigmatic. “Perhaps, I’ve been too harsh in my treatment of you. You were influenced by the Vita virus, after all.”
“No shit, Sherlock. When did you come to that stunning conclusion?” Dylan asked, allowing her pain to flare into anger.
Ethan sighed and dropped his eyes. “Look, Dylan. I don’t want to fight with you. Not anymore.”
“What do you want then?” Dylan asked, a tiny seed of hope blossoming in her chest. Maybe, he wanted to make peace. Maybe, they could even be friends.
“I want us to put all this ugliness and hatred behind us,” Ethan said. “It’s in the past, and I’d like us to move forward. If you’re willing.”
“Of course, I’m willing,” Dylan said. “I never wanted any of this in the first place.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Ethan said, reaching out a hand. “Truce?”
Dylan shook on it. “Truce.”
“Before you go, I’d like to ask you a favor,” Ethan continued.
“A favor?” Dylan repeated. “What kind of favor?”
“It’s about Rita,” Ethan said. “She’s having a rough time of it, and I’m afraid she might do something stupid.”
“Rita?” Dylan asked.
“Yes, I was hoping you could talk to her. She won’t listen to me, but she might listen to you. She respects you.”
Dylan stared at him, her hopes dashed. “Oh, I see. You don’t want to be friends, do you? Not really. This is all about Rita.”
Ethan frowned. “I never said I wanted to be friends, Dylan. I simply wanted to make peace.”
“To what end? Asking me favors?” Dylan said.
“Perhaps.”
“So, nothing has changed, has it? You still think I’m a monster,” Dylan said. When Ethan didn’t reply, she sighed. “You know what the worst of all is?”
“What?” he asked, his expression guarded.
“You don’t need to pretend to like me, or even tolerate me, to ask a favor. Especially for Rita. She’s my friend, and I’d do anything for her.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Ethan said.
Dylan headed toward the door. “I’ll talk to her, I promise but don’t play games with me. We’re not children, after all.”
“I’ll remember that,” Ethan said. “Just one more thing.”
“What?”
“Even if I could get past what you’ve done, we could never be friends,” he said.
Dylan paused. “Why is that?”
“Because I loved you too much.”
Dylan sucked in a deep breath. “You never said you loved me that way.”
“I tried. You didn’t listen, and you chose Nick.”
“I can’t help who I love, Ethan. It doesn’t work that way,” Dylan protested.
“No, it doesn’t, and there’s no point talking about it anymore,” Ethan said, turning his back on her. “What’s done is done.”
“You’re right,” Dylan said, fleeing from the room. Her chest ached, and she longed to scream with frustrated rage. Why does everything have to be so complicated? “Stupid men with their stupid pride.”
She couldn’t sustain her anger for long, though. She had hurt him, and it would take time for his wounds to heal. I only hope he can find the same happiness I did with Nick. He deserves that much.
Pushing aside these thoughts, she waited at the entrance for Rita to show up. It wasn’t long before her friend arrived, her wounded arm hanging from a sling around her neck.
“Rita, you made it,” Dylan said with a broad smile.
Rita smiled back, but without real warmth. “I always do.”
“How do you feel?” Dylan asked.
“Just peachy,” came the quick reply.
Dylan fell in next to her, and together they walked toward the exam room where Ethan waited. This time, she didn’t go inside, but said, “I’ll wait out here. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Rita said, stepping into the room. The door swung shut with a firm click, and Dylan was left pacing the narrow hallway.
It wasn’t long before Amanda and Brenda walked past, pushing a trolley full of clean towels and sheets.
“Hi, Dylan,” Brenda said with a quick wave. Her hair was done up in curls, and her lips were coated in deep red lipstick.
“Hey, Brenda. Looking good. Are you going on a date?”
Brenda giggled. “You never know. It’s better to be prepared, I say.”
Dylan shook her head, amused. “Uh, okay.”
“Are we still on for lunch in half an hour?” Amanda asked, checking her watch.
Dylan nodded. “I’ll be there.”
They continued on their way, and another ten minutes passed before Rita emerged. Her face was
