My Hockey Patient Shouldn't Know How I Taste

TABITHA: I should’ve locked my bedroom door. It’s 7:30 on a Monday morning and I’m thirty seconds away from an amazing orgasm when my best friend bursts into my room like she’s auditioning for a SWAT team. “Tabitha! You will not believe what… oh my God.” I jolt upright, my heart slamming against my ribs as I yank the blanket over myself. The vibrator, BOB as I’ve lovingly named him, is still buzzing between my legs like an angry bee trapped in a jar. “Mei!” My voice comes out strangled, somewhere between mortification and rage. “What the hell?” She stands frozen in the doorway with two coffee cups in her hands, her expression cycling rapidly through shock, horror, and then, because she’s the worst, pure amusement. “I brought coffee,” she says, like that explains the home invasion. “Get out!” “But I texted you like five times.” “I was busy!” I gesture wildly at my current state of undress and frustration. The corner of her mouth twitches. “I can clearly see that.” Heat floods my face as I fumble under the blanket for the off switch, but my hand is shaking and I accidentally hit a button that makes it vibrate harder. The sound fills the room. Mei’s eyebrows shoot toward the ceiling. “Oh my God, just…” I finally manage to turn it off. Blessed silence. “Can you please leave so I can die of embarrassment in peace?” “Too late for that.” She walks in, walks right in, and sets a coffee cup on my nightstand, right next to where BOB now lies like evidence at a crime scene, before settling herself on the end of my bed. “Besides, we need to talk.” I grab a pillow. “We really don’t.” “Tabitha, you’re closed off,” she says, completely ignoring my murderous glare. “I’m selective.” “You’re hiding.” “I’m not hiding, Mei.” “You need to get back out there.” “I’m not ready for anything, okay? And honestly?” I grab my scrubs from the closet. “I’d die before I trust a man again.” Mei doesn’t laugh. Her face does that thing, that soft, pitying thing that makes my skin crawl. “Tab, what Kevin did…” The name lands like a fist to the sternum. “What Kevin did was show me exactly what men are capable of.” My voice comes out flat, cutting her off. “We were together for nine years, Mei, and we were engaged for two. And it meant nothing.” “So you’re just going to hide in here forever?” “I’m not hiding. I’m choosing myself.” I stand up, grabbing more clothes from my closet with more force than necessary. “There’s a huge difference.” Mei watches me for a long moment, then sighs. “Fine. But someday you’re going to meet someone who makes you want to try again.” “Not likely.” “Wanna bet?” “Twenty bucks.” “Deal.” She stands, heading for the door. “This is going to be the easiest twenty dollars I ever make.” I throw the pillow at her retreating back. “Get out!” Her laugh echoes down the hallway. When she’s gone, I stand there in my bedroom, BOB still on the nightstand, and let myself feel it for just a moment. That hollowed out ache that shows up whenever I think about him. About the apartment we picked out together, the wedding venue we’d already paid for, the future I’d been stupid enough to believe in. Then I force it down, the way I always do. I pull my hair into a ponytail and stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The woman looking back at me appears calm and collected, like she has her life completely together. Like she didn’t just get interrupted mid-orgasm by her best friend and then have a mini breakdown about her ex. I’m grabbing my keys when my phone rings. A quick glance at the screen makes my stomach drop. It’s Ellen. Ellen never calls. In the fifteen months I’ve worked at the clinic, every piece of communication has come through text or email. She’s the queen of efficiency, of leaving digital paper trails, of never wasting time on phone calls when a message will do. I answer immediately. “Ellen? Is everything okay?” “Tabitha.” Her voice is tight, stressed in a way I’ve never heard before. “I need you to come to the clinic. Now.” “I was just about to leave. I’ll be there in twenty…” “Not twenty minutes. Now.” There’s a pause, and I can hear her take a breath. “I’m calling in that favor you owe me.” My hand freezes on my car keys. Ellen doesn’t call in favors. She doesn’t need to. She’s the one people owe, not the other way around. She gave me this job when I showed up here fifteen months ago with nothing but a suitcase and a shattered engagement, when I was still raw and desperate and trying to pretend I had my s**t together. If she’s asking for this, whatever it is, it’s serious. “What’s going on?” I ask carefully. “I can’t explain over the phone. Just… please. Get here as fast as you can.” Another pause. “And Tabitha? I need you to trust me on this one.” The line goes dead. I stand there in my apartment with my phone in my hand, my heart pounding for entirely different reasons than it was twenty minutes ago. Ellen sounded rattled. Desperate, even. And despite everything, despite the careful walls I’ve built, despite my determination to keep my life small and safe and manageable, I’m already grabbing my bag and heading for the door. Because Ellen gave me a second chance when I needed one. And whatever she needs from me now, I owe her that much.