yet.
“I’m going to drive now, Sage. I know you haven’t eaten anything all day, and you need to get something in you before you make yourself sick.” He put the truck in reverse and started moving.
Sage should have left, stepped from the truck, but though she was mad at him, she also wanted his comfort, wanted not to be alone. They drove for a while, heading toward the city instead of Sterling. She watched fat snowflakes fall against the windshield as she and Spence reached downtown Billings, where lights lined the streets and people rushed from vehicles to restaurants and stores. The city was alive even with the snow. It continued forward even if one of its residents had been tragically taken from them.
“If you let it, this will kill you, Sage. If you get too attached, start blaming yourself, you will fail again and again. You can’t grieve over your patients, and you can’t hold yourself responsible. You have to work as hard and as fast as you can, but you have to remember that you’re only human—there’s only so much you can do. Sometimes, God has a different plan.”
It was odd, but the sound of his voice was soothing her, making her feel somehow just a bit better. He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t heard before, but when faced with life and death and coming out on the losing end, she’d found it difficult to remember what she’d been taught.
“I understand that, Spence. But it’s still easier said than done.”
“Yes, but you can find the balance you need to find. You’ll know how to care just the right amount, enough that you’ll work your hardest, but not so much that you lose yourself. You’re a fighter, Sage, and you’ll be an advocate for your patients. That’s all anyone can hope for from a doctor. Be strong, but don’t be afraid to lean on others.”
“I guess the hardest part is that so many people live who will go back to abusing drugs, or cheating on a spouse, or beating their children. So many people get their lives saved who turn around and throw that life away. And then, suddenly, there’s this six-year-old girl on your table who woke up that morning to ask how many more days until Christmas, who might have gone outside and built a snowman, who’d just begun school and had an entire future ahead of her. And she’s the one who goes. It’s just not fair.”
“No, none of it’s fair, Sage. All I know is that we take an oath to help everyone who seeks us. We take an oath not to judge, to do all we can. Sometimes we do have to help people who the world might be better off without. You can never know that, though, and sometimes we lose someone so precious I don’t know how the world can survive the loss. Sometimes the day doesn’t bring us anything at all. This is a job—a job we love, a job that helps people, but it is a job. You have to leave it at the hospital when you step through those doors. You can’t carry it home with you, and you can’t shoulder the burden all alone.”
He was right. Of course he was right. And it was helping to talk it out, but she couldn’t think about it anymore, couldn’t keep focusing on this loss. She had to get her mind off it or she’d be weepy all night.
He stopped the truck, and the snow quickly enveloped them in a cocoon, invisible to the people passing by as it piled up on his windshield and the side windows fogged. It felt like they were the last two people in the world.
“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you—sorry I put you through that,” he said as he pulled her close to him and wrapped her in his arms.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said, though she felt only a smidgen of remorse.
He chuckled softly as he laid her head on his shoulder. Then he was rubbing her back, moving his hand in slow, easy motions that were draining the last of her tension.
“I care about you, Sage,” he whispered in her ear.
She was too vulnerable right now to hear this. She might actually believe him if she wasn’t careful.
“Ditto, Doctor,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Good. Because I plan on being around for a very long time.” He pulled back so he could look into her eyes.
What was he trying to