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“I already hit her the other night, remember?” I laughed, and the fresh stripe tattoo on my side rubbed against the material of my shirt, reminding me the situation wasn’t funny at all. Not before, and not now. Getting involved with Avery was dangerous—for both of us. She could get hurt—even more seriously this time—and I had a feeling that would wreck me.
Deb was chattering in the background, going on about the way Quinn was looking at her from across the Corner Hole bar. My ears only caught every other word, between the live band and Josh Avery’s form fitting T-shirt and five o’clock shadow drawing my attention. He had bought me a drink, and any moment, he would walk toward me with the fuck me smile I’d seen him offer to other women so many times before.
It was shameful, the way I could anticipate his every move before he made it, yet I was playing along. Like so many before me, I would believe this time was different. Something about me would change his whoring ways, and he would be deeply in love and loyal to me until one of us died—and maybe even after that. It was a vicious cycle that kept us perpetually single and in desperate need of our next connection, however brief.
I looked over at Deb. I had kept a small, faithful circle of friends my entire life, but that circle was ever changing and grew smaller as I aged. I wasn’t sure if that meant something was wrong with me, or I was just growing wiser.
“Thanks for being here, Deb.”
She snorted. “I asked you here, remember?”
“You know what I mean.”
After my parents died, I didn’t seem to have anything in common with my high school friends. I couldn’t hear complaints about Shari’s mom not buying that dress for an upcoming rush party or how overbearing Emma’s dad was. I was trying to figure out how to juggle funeral arrangements and death taxes along with rent for an apartment and applying to nursing schools.
Deb and I had been part of a tight group since nursing school, and we’d grown closer once we were both hired on at the ER. The other nurses had fallen away for one reason or another. Heather had cheated on her husband and, once caught, blamed her single friends for her wild ways. The result was only spending their free time with married couples. Elizabeth liked designer clothes and expensive cars on a student’s budget, then borrowed money to pay her bills. Deb and I had decided it cost too much to be her friend. Shay made us laugh and was always up for a good time, but every week some absurd drama plagued her: pregnancy scares, stalker ex-boyfriends, and friends who had wronged her. Life seemed to be complicated enough without complicated friends, so we’d cut them loose. But I’d kept Deb, and she’d kept me.
After I had been forced to let go of my parents, any feelings I had about losing anyone else were barely noticeable. I worried letting go had become too easy.
“Stop, or I’ll tongue punch your fart box,” Deb said.
My expression twisted into disgust. “You are fucking offensive.”
“Yeah, but you’re here instead of there.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I won’t let you punish yourself for whatever fucked up thing in your past you couldn’t control.”
I smiled. Deb knew I was losing myself in a sad memory and used one of her shocking remarks to snap me out of it. It always worked. Deb got me, and for some odd reason, I got her.
As predicted, Josh left Quinn at the bar to wade through the maze of people and high-top tables to the charcoal velvet love seat where Deb and I were seated. He tapped the neck of his beer to mine and then shot me a charming grin before taking a sip.
I was different. Josh just didn’t know it yet.
Since the day I had woken up in the hospital, everything was different. The old Avery wouldn’t have given someone like Josh a chance, but things like ego and how I should or shouldn’t behave didn’t feel so important now.
Josh sat in front of me, pointing his beer toward the short tower of empty shot glasses stacked on the table in front of us. “How was the shot I sent over?”
“I’ve had better,” I said.
Josh made a face. “Why are you always so mean? I never have to try this hard. Ever. It’s damaging my already fragile ego,” he joked, placing his hand over his heart as if he were injured.
I smirked. “That’s why.”
Josh had earned his nickname. McPanties would take me for the night, but Josh and I had walked away from that horrible accident for a reason. I wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but we definitely hadn’t survived a high-speed collision with a tractor-trailer for a one-night stand. Call it fate or kismet or maybe just plain dumb luck, but I wanted to know, why us?
Josh settled in next to me, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re saying I’ve got a shot.”
“I’m saying this shot,” I said, holding up an empty glass, “was mediocre. You better up your game.”
His gray irises sparkled. “Challenge accepted.”
I giggled, lifting my bottle to take another sip. The bottle never made it to my mouth. Dr. Rosenberg was standing at the bar with Michaels. She was still wearing her scrubs, a ball of orange frizz seeming to hover above her head. When she spoke, her wild bun wobbled.
Dr. Rosenberg barely acknowledged her, looking trapped and uncomfortable. Good. Michaels had likely talked him into grabbing a drink after work. She wasn’t known to take no for an answer, and Dr. Rosenberg had been catching a lot of hell recently for not being approachable. I sighed, hating that I was making excuses for him. If I wasn’t careful, he would topple from the pedestal I placed men like him on.
