“Not much. Just finished up an interview for a magazine. You?”
“Nothing nearly as exciting,” she replied. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Awww...” I teased. “You miss me.”
“Every day,” she said. Her tone said she wasn’t in a joking mood. The need to hear my voice was evident. I wished I could hug her because that was exactly what it sounded like she needed.
“Everything okay?”
“Sure,” she said, trying to sound upbeat.
“Are you sure?” I knew better. I could tell when she was in her head.
“I had a long day,” she admitted. “I cleaned out my closet,” she hesitated. “Including the box of Jamie’s things.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t easy,” I told her. I loved that she was serious about putting the past behind her. “I would have helped you. You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”
“It was something I needed to do alone.” When she was trying to be strong and I could still hear the vulnerability in her voice are the times wanted most to be able to comfort her. Even if it meant watching her dredge up memories of her first love. I planned on being her last and I would have helped her through anything. “I’ll be okay. It was just a little tough seeing all of his things again. I’m going to take the clothes to the Goodwill tomorrow and then return some items to his mother.” I heard her voice break a little and my heart ached that I wasn’t able to physically be there for her.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you,” I said. “Please don’t ever think that you can’t talk to me about how you’re feeling. I’m strong enough to hear about him. I don’t want you to ever think that I resent you loving him,” I added.
“I know that, and I love you for being so respectful.”
“Anything for you.” I paused. “Only a couple weeks until you get here. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know,” she said again. I heard voices and a rush of sounds in my ear. “Hey, I’ve got to go. A patient just came in.”
“I’ll call you—” The line went dead. “Later.” I most definitely would be calling her later. Something in the pit of my stomach said that we needed to continue our conversation. She wasn’t quite herself and the last thing I wanted was for her to think I was unavailable when she needed me most. I might not have been in the same state as her, but I could still talk to her and calm any fears she might be having about us.
I tried to convince myself that she was just busy and that she’d been a little shaken by her trip down memory lane. Everything would be okay. In the pit of my stomach I had a feeling it wouldn’t.
* * *
Hoyt and I rode into town and grabbed some dinner later that night. I’d missed the vibe of Austin. There was always something to do and the food was the best. Tex Mex, barbeque, southern comfort food, it had it all. I couldn’t wait to bring Georgia out here and show her the town. She’d love the laid back afternoons and wild nights the city offered.
What I thought was a night out with my buddy quickly turned into what felt like me on a date with another couple. Imagine my surprise—and Hoyt’s—when Chayse McCade saddled herself up next to us as we sat at the bar of local pub.
“Care if I join you?” she said, already seated next to us.
“Guess not,” Hoyt said. He’d told me earlier that day that the two of them had butted heads most of the day, as usual. Seeing her all smiles and him annoyed was mildly amusing. She went from hot to cold and back to hot more times than the weather back in Illinois.
“How was your interview?” I asked her when we saw that she was staying for the duration. I figured I might as well at least try to get a civil conversation started between the two of them.
“Oh I’m sure Pilsner will be pissed about it,” she said with a laugh. “The kid shouldn’t have asked me what my favorite thing to do when I wasn’t riding was if he didn’t want to hear the answer.”
“What’s that?” My curiosity got the best of me. The second she flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and let her green eyes narrow, I knew it was a bad idea.
“Having great sex.” Her answer was clear and precise and I nearly had to perform the Heimlich on Hoyt who choked on a french fry. I gave him a sharp pat on the back as I laughed.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that answer,” I joked, watching Hoyt take a long pull from the beer he had in front of him. This girl was a hoot all right. If she could get her riding half as sharp as her tongue she’d really be making headway in the sport. “Isn’t he trying to sell you as America’s Sweetheart?”
“America’s Sweetheart, I ain’t,” she said proudly. “As soon as everyone stops trying to make me something I’m not,” she said, pointedly looking at Hoyt. “The better off we’ll all be.”
Hoyt shook his head as the two of them locked eyes. I knew how to take a cue. It seemed I was always giving the two of them a moment. I didn’t mind. I wanted to call in and check on Georgia. I knew she was off at eight and it was quarter past.
“I’ll be right back,” I told them, doubting that they’d even notice. “Gotta call my girl,” I added before walking to the back of the bar. The last thing I wanted to be a part of was a lover’s quarrel.
The universe I’d been asking to be kind to me, decided that today was the day it was going to see if I was actually strong enough to handle the decisions I’d made in my life. Not only was it testing my abilities at my job, it apparently wanted to make sure I remembered exactly how losing someone affected me. I’d be lying if I said the day before hadn’t gotten the wheels turning. Rummaging through all of Jamie’s old things had stirred up some memories—some feelings—that I thought I was strong enough to revisit. I woke up in a pool of sweat, unable to recall the dreams—or nightmares—that had brought it on.
There were two uniformed men trying to tell me something, apologizing profusely, and then I was at a funeral. I thought it was Jamie’s but Brett’s picture was by the casket. I hadn’t slept a wink since waking up from that doozy of a nightmare.
My chest was heavy with dread as I climbed out of bed and got ready for work. Fresh off a night of restless sleep, I showed up for my clinical shift at the hospital. I’d planned on being on the Cardio floor, as I’d been the day before, but a shortage of nurses in the Emergency Room meant that I, being the low woman on the totem pole, was assigned to the unit.
I usually didn’t mind working the ER. Over the past few years, I’d become numb to the trauma and uncertainty, but today different. The quiet calm of the unit was eerie that morning. Only a few rooms were occupied and it was mostly stitches and stomach aches. I felt a weight pressing down on my shoulders as I checked in at the nurses’ station.
“Glad you’re here,” one of the doctor’s on staff said. I recognized him from my last shift on the floor. Dr. Clark. He was more of a drill sergeant than a doctor, which is exactly why he was perfect for the Emergency Room. He could handle the stress. He knew what had to be done and didn’t have a problem delegating. “There was a wreck on Route 44. Multiple injuries,” the look on his face told me how bad it was going to be. I tried to brace myself for the worst, but the second the first ambulance showed up, I knew that the day was going to be hard.
“Paul Freeman. Forty-four,” a paramedic informed us as we wheeled the first patient in from the bay. “Multiple contusions and lacerations,” she continued. “Shortness of breath. Pretty sure he punctured a lung.”
“How many more are coming in?” Dr. Clark asked.
“Just one more,” the paramedic said. “It was a head on. Pretty bad. You better run a tox screen on this one,” she added. “Police found liquor bottles in the vehicle. Well, what was left of it.”