Miss Matched [COMPLETED]

29. Simon

Tayla walked out of my life four days ago, and I've thrown myself back into working extra shifts. Right now, I regret picking this one up. The first patient I triaged had a beer can shoved up his ass. A drunken dare gone very wrong. Now, I'm sitting on a stool picking maggots out of this elderly man's foot. Maggots. Out of a foot. One for the books.

While I remove the maggots, I contemplate my life choices. Turns out, Aaron might have been right about how I should have handled GameSetMatch and talking to Tayla. She won't take my calls or even read my text messages. Maybe she blocked me. 

Shit. What if she blocked me? 

I deserve her anger, even if I was about to give her all the details of GameSetMatch. Too little too late.

In some sort of warped sense of making things right, I've reached out to the other two women who were matched with me. Neither of them has responded yet. Maybe it doesn't matter if they do. I've got the matching emails, so it's not as though the company can deny how many soulmates they've given me.

"Simon?" Another nurse, my shift supervisor, peeks around the curtain and scrunches up her face. "There's someone here to see you."

I frown and check the clock above my patient's bed. Another hour until my shift is done. "Who is it?"

"A woman. Dark hair. Slight build. Pretty. Ring any bells?"

Tayla.

Why would she come see me at work? "Is she injured or sick?" I drop my equipment onto the metal table beside me and tug off my gloves.

"Looks fine to me. You're due a break. You missed your last one with beer can up the butt guy." She grabs gloves out of the box by the door. "I can finish this up for you. She's at the front desk."

Tayla's here and I don't have to keep maggot picking? All my Christmases have come early. I slip out of the curtained area before my supervisor can change her mind.

I glance down at myself to make sure I don't have any maggots or blood or feces covering my scrubs. Nothing obvious. Not that I expect her to get that close.

When I get to the front desk, she's sitting in one of the closest chairs. The sight of her causes a wave of remorse to run through me. She rises, and my instinct is to slide my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her, but I don't have them. So, for a second, I fumble awkwardly until I end up crossing my arms. I scan her face, trying to decipher the reason she's come to my work.

"Is there somewhere we can go to talk?" She speaks as soon as I'm close enough but before I get a chance to say a word.

"Outside is probably best." I gesture to the sliding doors. She leads the way, and I follow, unsure whether I should drop to my knees and grovel for a chance to explain or brace myself for a diatribe. Tayla's never been the dramatic sort. I almost wish she'd rail at me, flush out some of her anger. When I open my mouth to speak, she holds up a hand.

"I'd really prefer it if you didn't talk right now. We're at your work, and I'm likely to blow up. I would have called or texted you, but I blocked your number, and I can't figure out how to unblock it. I have zero patience for figuring that shit out." She lets out an impatient noise and crosses her arms, so we're mirroring each other.

"Okay." Should I say more? Wait for her to continue? Have I ever seen her genuinely angry with me?

"I'm moving to Scotland in a month."

My stomach drops into my toes, and an ache spreads across my chest. Would she be leaving if I told her the truth earlier? If she hadn't found out on my doorstep from the worst possible person?