Chapter Three: Echoes Between Walls
The house was dark when Eddie pulled into the driveway.
Evette's car was there--same spot as always--but no lights on inside. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe still soaking in the tub, winding down from one of those extra-long shifts Brittany had scheduled.
His hand lingered on the truck key before cutting the engine. The silence that followed was deafening.
Eddie opened the front door quietly, stepped out of his shoes at the threshold, and moved through the hallway like a man walking through someone else's house.
Their house smelled like vanilla and fresh laundry. Safe smells. Familiar. The walls were decorated with snapshots of their life: wedding photos, beach trips, family. He stopped in front of one--the two of them in Destin, wind whipping through Evette's auburn curls, her arms wrapped around his waist, laughing like she didn't have a care in the world.
His gut twisted.
From down the hall, he heard the sound of water dripping. The bathroom door was cracked open. Steam clung to the air.
She was awake.
"Hey," he called gently.
Evette's voice came back soft. "Hey, babe. I was just about to get out."
Eddie moved to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Took out a beer and shut the door.
He leaned against the counter, bottle in hand, the cool glass a weak anchor against everything burning beneath his skin.
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Across Town: Brittany's House
Brittany stood in her shower longer than usual, letting the water hit her shoulders, then run down her back, over skin still tingling from what had just happened. Her body ached in a good way, a way she hadn't felt in a long time.
She stepped out, wrapped herself in her plush robe, and sat on the edge of her bed with a towel on her head. The room was quiet except for the hum of her ceiling fan. Her thoughts, though--those wouldn't stop spinning.
She couldn't help but think of Evette.
Evette had saw her fire even back when she was fresh out of school. Evette had trained her, mentored her, pushed her harder than the others because she saw something in her--something raw and hungry. They had worked brutal shifts together on Huntsville Hospital orthopedic unit: long nights full of post-op pain, confused patients, and too little staff.
There had been one night--almost ten years ago now. A post-op gone bad. Code blue. Blood everywhere. A young man they couldn't save. Brittany remembered the tremble in Evette's hands when it was over, the way she looked at Brittany like she was the only thing keeping her standing.
After the shift, Brittany had pulled her into the breakroom.
"You need a drink," she'd said.
