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You looked for Robby everywhere. He wasn’t in the consult rooms or with a patient that you could see. The breakroom was empty. He wasn’t at the hub but you didn’t dare ask Dana if she’d seen him. The day had been hell for everyone, but anyone could see that Dana was particularly worried about the Chief Attending.
Three months he was supposed to be gone on his sabbatical. Three months of riding that motorcycle god only knew where. Sure, he’d told you all he was going to some heritage site in Canada but that wouldn’t take three months. The rest of the trip was an unknown. Admin had brought in Dr. Al-Hashimi to cover but not having her start until today was a disservice to everyone including her.
You sighed and shook your head. And Robby…you didn’t know what was wrong with him today. He’d been acting off for a while, truth be told but nothing like today. The morning hadn’t been bad but as the day wore on, he became short-tempered, irritable. He pushed people away, avoided conversations. And you’d noticed he was on the verge of tears more than once.
The weirdest part had been how he’d avoided you specifically. Not obviously. He was too smart for that. But your paths normally crossed several times a day and today they just somehow…didn’t. As if he’d mapped out your movements and deliberately charted a course around them.
It made no sense. You’d been working together long enough that you knew his rhythms, the way he ran a trauma room. You’d stood beside him through the worst shifts the Pitt could throw at you. You’d decompressed together in the ambulance bay or on the roof. Sat beside each other as you grabbed a beer in the park.
And somewhere in all that, something had shifted, something you weren’t brave enough to name. Maybe that was why today hurt. Because tomorrow he’d be gone, and that unnamed thing would have to wait another three months to maybe, possibly, be spoken.
You’d all but given up seeing him before you went home when you stepped through the doors into the ambulance bay and there he was.
He stood with his back to you, sleeves of his green undershirt pushed up as he looked over the parking lot. You stopped a few feet away. “Hey.”
He didn’t turn right away and when he did, his face was carefully neutral. The same expression he used when delivering bad news to a family member.
“Hey yourself.” His voice was rough.
“You disappeared. Thought maybe you left without saying goodbye.” You didn’t mention how that fear had settled painfully behind your sternum until you’d caught sight of him.
His lips barely curved with what you supposed was a smile. Maybe. “Can’t leave just yet. Still a few things to square away.” There was a beat of silence then he cleared his throat.
“Listen, I’m glad you found me. I’ve been thinking.” He pulled a key from his pocket and held it out to you. “You mentioned your roommates have been driving you up the wall. The loud music, the weird hours. I know you’ve been looking for a new place.”
You stared at the key as it reflected the dim light of the bay.
“What are you—”
“My condo.” He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if the thought should have occurred to you without him saying it. He shrugged. “I’m gonna be gone three months. Maybe more. Somebody should water the fake plants. Check the mail. Make sure the place doesn’t get robbed.” One corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Thought you might want to housesit. Do me a favor.”
It was such a Robby thing to do. Frame it as you helping him. As if the offer of a quiet, private space wasn’t exactly what you’d been needing for months. As if he hadn’t been paying attention every time you voiced your latest complaints about your roommates.
You reached for the key, fingers brushing his as you took it. “That’s incredibly generous, Robby.”
“Not generous. Practical. I’ll text you the address and the code to the front door. There’s marked parking for each unit. I’ll let the doorman know you’ll be staying. They might want an ID the first couple of times until they get used to you.”
You nodded as you slipped the key onto your ring, making sure to keep it separate so you wouldn’t get it confused.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, there’s a guest room. The mattress is cheap though. Jake was the only one using it and well, his back isn’t fifty years old. My bed’s…” He cleared his throat. “My bed’s better. King. Tempur-Pedic. You’re welcome to it. And the shower in the master has better water pressure anyway. Guest bath has one of those rainfall heads that sounds nice in theory but does shit to wash off a shift.”
He’d thought about this. All day while you thought he was avoiding you, he was figuring out how to present this to you.
“Thank you.” The words didn’t come close to expressing your gratitude for even a temporary reprieve from your roommates.
He nodded, not quite meeting your eyes. “No big deal.”
It was. You both knew it.
Maybe that’s why you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Maybe it was the three months without him stretching ahead. Maybe it was how out of character he’d been acting all day. Or maybe you just needed to hold him.
For a second, Robby went rigid. Then he hugged you back and he just sank into you. There was no other word for it. His body seemed to give way, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath warm through your scrubs. One of his hands spread wide against your back, the other curled around your waist like he was afraid you might step away.
You held him tighter. He smelled like the hospital sanitizer mixed with the faint aroma of his shampoo. Something citrusy but subtle. When he finally straightened, his eyes were suspiciously bright. He cleared his throat again.
“Be safe, Robby.” Your voice came out softer than you’d intended.
He looked away from you and nodded once.
“Hey,” you said, to pull his attention back to you. “Promise me.”
He looked at you then, really looked, and something passed through his eyes you couldn’t name. “Okay. I will.”
You took a step back, then another. You turned toward the parking lot. Halfway there you looked back. He was still standing where you’d left him, hands in his pockets, watching you go. You raised your hand in a small wave.
Robby raised his in return then he turned and disappeared back into the Pitt.
***
Two months was a long time to sleep in someone else’s bed and pretend their absence wasn’t slowly killing you.
Robby’s bedroom faced east which didn’t bother you until your first morning off when the sunlight poured through the blinds and across the bed. You’d kept the blinds closed after that.
Tonight, like every night, you lay on your back and stared at the ceiling. The fan rotated slowly above you. Your eyes occasionally tracking its movement before finding some minor imperfection to lock onto instead.
You’d brought your own pillow, filled the cabinets and fridge with your preferred foods. Your favorite coffee mug joined his in the cabinet. All small things, nothing that would make him feel displaced when he returned. If he returned. The sabbatical was for three months but Robby was the kind of man who might decide on a whim to keep riding. To point his motorcycle at the horizon and not look back.
The Pitt kept churning. Patients came and went. You went to work and came home to Robby’s condo, slept in Robby’s bed and tried very hard not to think about Robby.
It wasn’t working.
His name came up constantly at work. “That’s not what Dr. Robby would have done.” “Robby always took care of that.” “Have you heard from him?”
The last seemed to come from Dana and Jack as much as it was directed to them. He hadn’t responded to anyone. Just yesterday, Jack had found you at the hub when he arrived for his shift. “Still haven’t heard anything. Texted a few times this week. Called once. Nothing.” He looked at you then to Dana. “You?”
You’d shaken your head even as you realized the absurdity of it. If Robby wasn’t answering Jack, the person he trusted most in the building, maybe the world, why would he answer you? You were his colleague. Someone he’d been kind enough to offer his home to. Nothing more.
You hadn’t reached out. You were too afraid you’d press send then watch the screen remain dark. But tonight, the chance he might respond overrode the crippling fear that he never would.
You plucked your phone from the nightstand where you’d left it face down, as you always did when you were trying to ignore it. No new messages. You opened your texts and found his name. The last exchange had been when he’d sent you all of the information you’d needed to know about his condo.
Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. This was stupid. He was out there somewhere on his motorcycle, doing whatever it was he needed to do and you were here in his bed sending texts he wouldn’t answer.
You typed it anyway: I miss you.
You stared at it for a moment, deleted it then typed them again. Your thumb hovered over the delete button. This was pathetic. You were a grown ass woman. You took a breath and pressed send.
You’d just sat the phone back on the nightstand when it rang.
The sound was so unexpected, that you actually flinched. The screen glowed with his name. Not texting. Calling. Calling you.
You fumbled with the phone and nearly dropped it before managing to accept the call.
“Hello?”
A beat of silence then he responded. “Hey.”
Just the one word, but it was enough to make your eyes water.
“It’s so good to hear your voice.” His words came out in a rush like he’d been holding them back.
You swallowed. “You, too. God, Robby. You too.”
“Your text…” His voice was rough and you couldn’t be sure if it was from fatigue or emotion. “I miss you too. So much. It’s driving me crazy.”
You closed your eyes and sucked in a steadying breath. “So come home.” The words were out before you could stop them.
“I can’t.”
You knew that. Of course, you knew that. The sabbatical wasn’t a vacation. It was something he needed, had needed for a long time. Time to breathe. To remember who he was outside the walls of the hospital. You had no right to ask him to cut that short.
“I know, Robby.” Your voice was soft. “But I’ll be waiting if you change your mind.”
The silence stretched long enough that you wondered if the call had dropped. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet you almost missed it.
“Do you mean that? You’d really be there?”
You sucked in a breath that caught and fractured and burned somewhere deep in your chest. The tears came hot and fast, tracing down your temples and into your hair. You didn’t try to stop them.
“Robby.” His name came out wet. “I should have told you before you left. I meant to. I just…I just chickened out, I guess.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand. “I like you, Robby. More than like actually. I have for a long time.”
A beat, then, “Why didn’t you say anything?” His voice caught around the unmistakable thickness of tears. Robby was crying. Robby who carried the weight of the Pitt on his shoulders day after day and tried so hard not to break.
He was crying because of you.
You let out a shaky laugh. “You can’t be serious. I’ve seen some of the women you date. Look at you. You could have anyone. Why would you want me?”
He gave a laugh of his own, sounding equally wrecked. “Honey, what are you talking about? I’m a fifty-ish-year-old grumpy bastard with a tummy and can’t read shit without my glasses. You’re stunning. Brilliant. Caring. Why would you ever want an old man like me?”
Your answer came without hesitation. “It’s always been you. Why would I want anyone else?”
You could hear his breathing, slightly uneven. “You need to sleep.” The affection in his voice was so plain it made your chest ache. “Would you do something for me though? Just until I come home.”
“Anything.” The answer came quick.
His laugh was richer now, less broken. “Careful, honey. You don’t know what you’re agreeing to yet.” Heat flooded your face but you stayed quiet and waited for him to explain. “The drawers on the right side of my dresser are full of old t-shirts I wear around the house. Wear one when you’re home. Please.”
There was a pause and he sucked in a shaky breath. “Just…I know it’s stupid, but—”
“It’s not stupid,” you insisted. “I think I’d like that actually.” You were already getting out of bed and heading to the dresser.
“Yeah?”
The sheer happiness in his tone had you grinning.
“Yeah.”
“Alright. We should get off so you can rest. We’ll talk when I get back.”
“Okay, Robby,” you said as you pulled a shirt out of the drawer. “Night.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”
Sweetheart. He’d never called you that before.
The call ended and you set the phone down to change out your shirt. A glance down showed the shirt was from Pittsburgh City Fest twenty years ago. You lifted the shirt to your nose and inhaled deeply, certain you caught the lingering scent of Robby in spite of it being clean.
You grabbed your phone and padded back to the bed. Once you settled back under the covers you sent Jack a text. Short and to the point.
Proof of life.
You set the phone on your chest and waited for him to get back to you. That way if you dozed off, you’d feel the vibration. Your phone rang and you picked it up without looking. “What is it with you old men and your phone calls?”
He laughed, dry and sharp. “Some of us prefer the lost art of verbal communication.” There was a pause. “He called you? You actually talked to him?”
You made a sound of agreement as you played with the edge of the sheet with your fingers. “Heard his voice and everything.” You kept your tone light and casual.
“How was he?”
The question was careful. It was no secret that Jack had been worried about his friend. While he’d attempted to keep it from most of the Pitt, he didn’t bother when it came to you or Dana.
You paused to consider your words. “He was good, I think. He sounded…lighter than he has in a while.” You realized the words were true even as you said them. He had sounded better. “He sounded like himself. Tired, maybe. But good.”
Jack was quiet for a moment. “Good. That’s good. What did you talk about?”
You’d been expecting the question, knew he wouldn’t be able to resist asking. You smiled into the darkness. “That is simply none of your business, Jack Abbot.”
He laughed, loud and rich. The first real laugh you’d heard from him since Robby left. “Fair enough. Thank you for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome, Jack. Have a good shift.”
“Get some sleep,” he instructed then the call ended.
You sat the phone back on the nightstand and pulled the covers up to your chin. You closed your eyes and, for the first time in two months, sleep came easily.
***
Two nights later, you stood in Robby’s kitchen melting butter in a pan. You’d gotten home from your shift, took a shower and dressed in one of his t-shirts with your sleep shorts and a pair of grippy socks because his hardwood floors were extraordinarily slippery. You were making something simple but hearty as you had the next day off and didn’t need to hurry to bed.
You’d just added the garlic to the pan when you heard a sound at the front door. The scrape of a key in the lock. The click of the deadbolt turning. You went still. The only other person with a key besides you and Robby was Jack, but he’d call before he came by. Or at least knock.
You padded across the kitchen floor and stuck your head out just far enough to see the entryway.
And there he was.
Robby. Stepping through the front door, backpack slung over one shoulder, helmet strapped to it. He was wearing jeans and his Carhartt jacket. His beard was longer than you remembered, his dark hair tousled. He had his back to you as he closed the door behind him.
Your heart hammered against your ribs as you hurried back to the stove to shut it off and move the pan. Robby was home. Here. Now. With no warning. You wondered how awful you looked then decided it didn’t matter.
You walked back to the entryway. Robby was sitting on the bench by the door, one boot already off, working on the other. His movements were tired. His head was down as he focused on the laces, his fingers working at the knot.
“You’re home.”
His head jerked up. For a moment he just looked at you. His eyes traveled from your face to the shirt to your bare legs and grippy socks and his expression shifted to something warm and so fond it made your knees weak.
Then he smiled, wide and genuine. The kind of smile that transformed his whole face, emphasizing the lines at the corners of his eyes.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Your hands twisted together in front of you. You were aware, distantly, that you were sort of bouncing on the balls of your feet like a little kid. It was undignified. You did not care.
Robby got the second boot off. Set it beside the first and stood. Then he was moving toward you and you were moving toward him and the distance between you vanished in a blink.
He pulled you into him. One arm around your waist, the other hand cradling the back of your head as his face buried itself in the curve of your neck. His clothes were cool against your skin but he was so, so warm beneath them.
He leaned back just enough to put a hand on your face. His palm was warm and slightly rough. His thumb traced your cheekbone. His eyes searched your face like he was memorizing it.
“Hi,” you said. Stupid. Not enough. But apparently your brain had short-circuited somewhere between hearing the front door and ending up in his arms.
He smiled wider. “Hi.” A beat. His hand still on your face. Your hands now resting against his chest. “Can I kiss you now?”
The question was quiet, almost shy.
You nodded, frantically, doing your best bobblehead impersonation. “Please do.”
So he did.
His mouth was warm, his lips slightly chapped from the road. He kissed you carefully at first, almost hesitant, as if uncertain he was really allowed. Then your hands fisted into the front of his jacket and pulled him closer and his restraint evaporated.
The kiss deepened. His arm tightened around your waist, lifting you slightly onto your toes and you smiled against his lips. Robby was home. Robby was kissing you and the two months of silence and distance evaporated.
When he finally broke away, both of you were breathing hard. His forehead came to rest against yours. His eyes were closed and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours.
“I imagined coming home to this a hundred times.” His hands had moved to your waist, thumbs tracing small circles through the thing fabric of his t-shirt. “Never thought it would actually happen.”
You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Go take a shower while I make dinner. You smell like highway.”
He laughed. “I’d be offended but I’m sure you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
He kissed you once more, quick and fond, then released you reluctantly. You watched him shrug off the jacket and hang it up before heading down the hall toward his bedroom.
You turned back into the kitchen and returned to making the meal you’d abandoned. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it would hit the spot. Fortunately, you’d been making extra to eat on for the next couple of days so there was plenty for both of you.
You were standing at the stove finishing up when you felt him behind you. He came up close, chest pressing against your back, his arms sliding around your waist from behind. He was warm from the shower, slightly damp. He buried his face in your neck, his beard scratching at the skin. His breath was warm against you.
For a long moment, he just held you. His arms were solid, secure. Acting like you were something precious.
“Stay? Please?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke. “We don’t have to do anything. I just want to hold you.”
You bit back a giddy grin and nodded.
“Yeah, I can stay.” You shut off the stove as the food finished. “I’m off tomorrow.”
You felt his smile against your skin. “What a coincidence. So am I.”
You laughed at the playfulness in his response. “Get the plates,” you said and turned your head to kiss him because that was a thing you were allowed to do now. You turned back to the stove before the kiss could deepen into something that would guarantee a cold dinner.
He fetched the plates and you dished up the food. He carried it to the table while you followed with napkins and silverware and drinks for both of you. You sat beside each other at the table, knees occasionally bumping. The food was fine, nothing spectacular but Robby ate like a man starved. Given that he’d been subsisting on diners and fast food for two months, he probably felt that way.
He looked good. Tired, but good. The hollow look he’d had that last day in the Pitt was gone, replaced by a peace you hadn’t seen him wear in a while.
You took a bite of your food and watched him while you chewed. Finally, you said, “You know, my roommates aren’t expecting me back for another month at least.” Your voice held a teasing tone as you tested the waters. “I’d hate to disappoint them by showing up early.”
Robby’s gaze found yours. “Yeah, you can stay the month.” He paused and his eyes stayed locked on yours as he smiled looking positively proud of himself. “Or maybe forever. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
That sounded like a fantastic idea to you.