Free Steel: (#5 The Beat and the Pulse) by Amity Cross Page B

hung up over a woman that I waited in a cesspool of human deterioration hoping to see her.
    But Sparks hadn’t come back.
    A body flopped down onto the seat beside me, and I stiffened. Glancing at Dr. Gunner, I remembered she said this was her scene. The ER.
    “Mr. Caplin, right?” she asked, knowing full well who I was.
    “Josh,” I replied. “You don’t have to be pro now that they let me out.”
    “Josh,” she said with a wide smile. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”
    “Yeah. I’m cool.”
    She glanced around the waiting room at the old people and the mothers with their kids who had fallen off their bikes and cracked their arms, and then turned back to me.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
    I shrugged. I wasn’t here for her if that’s what she was getting at, and the more time that passed, the more I forgot why I even bothered sticking around.
    “She’s still in surgery,” Dr. Gunner declared, leaning back in the crappy plastic seat. “At least, I’m pretty sure she is. Archer said it would take at least twelve hours or more.”
    She was operating with the clean-cut superhero that was Dr. Archer. Stiff competition.
    Thinking back to when Sparks had come to see me last night, I couldn’t remember the time, but it seemed like it was about that long. How anyone could stand there and be that amazing for any amount of time, let alone twelve hours, was beyond me. Just another bullet point in the long list of reasons why Dr. Walsh was way above my pay grade.
    “I can get a message to her if you like,” Gunner offered when I didn’t answer.
    She looked so hopeful I almost caved, but if Sparks wanted to see me outside the hospital, she would’ve already done something about it. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but the slow burn of disappointment still sat heavy on my chest.
    “Nah,” I said, rising to my feet. “It was never going to work out, anyway.”
    Gunner went to open her mouth but I was already walking away, my duffle bag clutched in my left hand. I was a two-week long flirtation, a stress reliever. Probably well needed considering the poor kid she was currently operating on. I shouldn’t be pissed about it—that would make me a fucking bastard. It was the exact same thing I did to the string of women who came before her. The same but without the sex, that was.
    It was better I walked away now than sit in that stupid seat waiting for a woman who was never coming back. That was the metaphor of my fucking life if I ever saw one.
    The doors swished open as I approached, and I stepped out into the world. I didn’t realize how much I missed the sun until I felt its rays on my skin. The sounds of inner city Melbourne reached my ears, and the quiet of the hospital ward upstairs seemed dull in comparison. Cars, trucks, and buses roared past, a tram dinged in the distance, and a cool breeze rustled through the trees that lined the little grassy patch behind the hospital.
    Everyone had someplace to be, someplace they were wanted and needed. Everyone but my sorry ass. Nothing was in my orbit, and even though I had an apartment I rented, it still wasn’t anywhere close to being home. I hadn’t had a real one of those since I was nineteen. Eight years drifting…
    Strolling forward, I began to walk away from the hospital, but then I saw a woman hunched over on a bench. A woman in a white coat. A woman with fire for hair.
    My heart twisted before soaring with hope, and I moved closer. I didn’t know her, not really, but I knew it was her. I stood behind her and almost didn’t say anything, but it was a last chance kind of moment, so I took it.
    “Sparks?” My voice came out uncertain. Distant and far away.
    She straightened up and wiped her eyes before turning. “Josh. I thought you’d been discharged.”
    “Just now,” I lied, stepping forward. She didn’t need to know I’d been waiting for her, but I reckon Dr. Gunner would tell her later on,