I nod, even though I know he can’t see me. ‘Yes.’
There’s an exhale over the line. ‘I’m not great with blood tests. Or with blood in general,’ he admits, then pauses a moment like he’s steeling himself to say more. ‘Ok, that’s an understatement. I’m a total baby about it, and I’m worried that you seeing me like that will undermine my masculine charms and cloud your opinion of me.’
Cam barks out a laugh beside me and I glare at him. Despite Quinn’s attempt at a joke, his voice was paper thin– so fragile it felt like he could break at any moment. I see a lot of it in my line of work. A surprising number of people are scared of needles, or of blood, or both. I’ve been soothing people and dodging blows and holding hands for most of my life. It doesn’t faze me at all, but I know how embarrassed people can be about their fears, and I am determined with Quinn, as I am with all my patients, to minimise his anxiety as much as possible.
‘We can get one of the other phlebotomists to do it if you’re not comfortable,’ I say, pointing a warning finger at Cam before walking over to the other side of the room. ‘But I promise you I’m very gentle. You’ll barely feel it.’
‘Will you hold my hand?’ he asks. A little humour has crept back into his voice, and I take that as my cue to rib him a little.
‘Oh, good idea,’ I deadpan. ‘I’ll do it one-handed.’
‘Ok, no,’ he replies quickly. ‘I see how that might be a problem.’
‘I mean, I could always suck out your blood and spit it back into the vial?’
He doesn’t reply for a moment, and I worry I’ve taken it too far, but when he does speak, I can tell he’s smiling.
‘Is that extra?’ he quips.
I bite back my own smile. ‘It’s extra painful.’
He laughs then, and it takes me by surprise. He has a great laugh, though I’m a little embarrassed I’ve noticed.
‘Ok, fine,’ he relents. ‘You can do it the regular way.’
‘Great.’ I’m back to businesslike in a moment, pushing those inappropriate feelings deep down inside me, where they belong. ‘Can you do today?’
I hear rustling, like he’s shifting papers around. ‘My shift starts at five, but I can come before that.’ This time his laugh is barely a breath out. ‘Before I have time to talk myself out of it.’
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face, even though I know Cam is still watching. ‘Perfect,’ I say. ‘Pop in when you can. I’ll let Denise on reception know I’m expecting you.’
And then I hang up and hold the phone out to Cam, who’s sitting at the table with his chin propped on a loosely clasped fist and an insufferably smug smile on his face.
‘What?’ I ask, but he just shakes his head.
‘Nothing.’
It’s not nothing, but, despite the unexpected shot of blood I’ve just had, I haven’t got the energy to deal with Cam’s relentless optimism. There’s a reason I swore off humans, and one particularly charming bartender isn’t going to change that.
Even if he does bear a striking resemblance to the love of my life.
ChapterFive
QUINN
My heart is in my throat by the time I reach the clinic doors. I have to pause a moment outside to draw in a few breaths of mild spring air before I step over the threshold.
I’m a little embarrassed, I have to admit. I don’t like to show people this side of me– the part that’s still just a scared little boy– but certain things never fail to bring it to the surface. And this is one of them.
I mean, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. After what happened with my dad, I totally get it. But just because I get it doesn’t mean I can do anything about it, and it definitely doesn’t mean I like it.
I almost said no to Florence. I almost said I didn’t need to come in, that it didn’t matter, that I’d take my chances. It was right there on the tip of my tongue. I’m not sure who exactly it was that made me change my mind, the no nonsense Florence who started the call, or the softer, more fun version I managed to coax out later. Both versions of her made me feel like this was something I could do.
I mean, it’s a tiny bit of blood, for fuck’s sake.
I take ten steps before I stop again, just inside the entrance of the clinic. It’s the smell of hospitals that always gets me. There’s no other scent like it– like a blend of cleaning chemicals and sweat and overcooked food. I don’t think they even have food in this little clinic and yet the smell is still just the same. It clings to the back of my throat and sends a cold shiver racing across my skin.
But it doesn’t stop me. Not for long. Especially not when I spot Florence herself striding towards a door at the back of the clinic. She doesn’t spot me, and I use that to my advantage. I watch her all the way, taking in every part of her.