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She looked around us to see if anyone was watching and whispered, “That doesn’t necessarily mean you know what you’re doing.”
I resumed walking as I looked down at my chart. “I think nearly eight years of medical school and residency does say I know what I’m doing. So, I don’t really need Nurse Know-It-All second-guessing my every move.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Then don’t be a pain in the arse.”
“A pain? I think there must be a pill somewhere you can prescribe for my attitude, seeing as though you’re drug happy, Dr. Hogue?”
“You are a pill, Nurse Valentine. And yes, I’m going to write you out something right now.”
Wearing the burgundy scrubs that hugged her ass just right, she placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, yeah?”
Gritting my teeth, I dug my pen into my pad and wrote in swift, angry strokes.Take three hard poundings against wall twice daily. Repeat for seven days until stick from arse falls out.I handed it to her, watching her read it as her face turned as red as her uniform.
Smirking, I then proceeded to walk away.A few days later, Bridget was outside doing yard work, so I used the opportunity to pop into the kitchen without having to run into her.
Deciding to use the bathroom in the main house first, I stopped short at the sight of Brendan standing on a stool in front of the mirror. He had shaving cream all over his face. You could see nothing but his eyes. And he was just about to take a razor to his cheek.
I held out my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa…what are you doing, buddy? You’ll cut yourself.”
“Shaving.”
I carefully took the razor from his grasp. “Does your mother know you’re playing with this?”
“No. She thinks I’m in my room reading while she’s working outside.”
“Why are you trying to shave? You don’t have any hair on your face.”
“Mark Connolly told me if I start shaving, I might grow hair. He said it happened to his grandmother. She started shaving her face and got a full beard.”
Stifling a laugh, I asked, “Why do you want a beard?”
“I want to be older.”
“You’re going on nine. There’s only so much you can do, but I assure you growing a beard wouldn’t make you any more mature.”
“How old were you when you first got hair on your face?”
“I don’t remember…probably a teenager. Listen, this has a sharp blade. It’s very dangerous and not something you should ever be playing around with.”
He stepped down off the stool. “My daddy used to shave a lot.”
I knelt down and softened my tone. “Yeah?”
“I don’t remember too much, but I remember him shaving right here. Are you gonna tell my mom?”
“Nah. Bro code, remember? But just promise me you won’t play with razors anymore.”
“I won’t.”
“Here, let’s wash your face.”
He stood back up on the stool as I ran the faucet.
I cupped the water in my hand and began removing the cream from his face as I said, “Trust me, you should be enjoying just being a kid. You’re gonna grow up faster than you know. It’s life experiences that make you a grown-up, not some hair on your face. We never really stop growing, actually. I think I still have a lot of growing up to do myself sometimes.”
“You look grown up to me.”
“Is that so?” I pointed to my head. “Well, I was referring to what’s in here. Sometimes, I still feel like a kid myself. Anyway, someday, you’re gonna look back at this and laugh because you’ll dread having to shave all of the time just so you don’t end up looking like Santa Claus.”
“If you didn’t shave, would you look like him?”
I grinned. “I guess I would, like a tall, blond, trimmer Santa, yeah.”
“That would be really funny.”
I grabbed a towel. “Let’s dry your face.”
“Are you mad at me?” he suddenly said.
“For the shaving? No, I get it.”
“No, I mean, you stopped having breakfast with us and taking me to school sometimes. Did I do something bad?”
Bloody hell. My heart felt like it was going to break in two. I guess I had secretly hoped that Brendan wasn’t wondering what was up with me. I knelt down and placed my hands around his cheeks.
“No, little guy. Of course, not.”
“Why did you stop playing with me, then?”
I didn’t want to lie to him and tell him I’d been busy. I honestly didn’t know how to answer him. I certainly couldn’t admit that I’d been avoiding him so that he wouldn’t get attached to me. I just froze.
“It has nothing to do with being mad at you.” When he still looked a bit sad, I gave him a hug. “Come here.” Pulling back to face him, I said, “I’ll tell you what…I have tomorrow night off. Why don’t you and I go throw around a football at the park after school or something, maybe get some ice cream. Would you like that?”
