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“Jem.”
She glanced up at him. “What?”
“You don’t gotta leave.”
“I can’t stay. I can’t afford to.” In more ways than one.
She broke free of his grip and he followed her when she went to where her car was parked.
“Think about it,” was the last thing he said as she finished buckling in the carrier portion of the car seat.
“Nothing to think about, Chris. You knew what the deal was. It hasn’t changed.”
His jaw got tight as she closed the back passenger door. He remained where he stood as she moved around the car and climbed in the driver’s seat.
And he remained standing there as she backed out of the spot and drove out of the lot. She couldn’t help but glance into the rearview mirror a few times before the garage disappeared from sight.
You don’t gotta leave.
Yes, she did. And she needed to do it sooner than later.
Because there had been nothing she wanted more than for him to kiss her when they were standing face to face out in the lot.
She almost thought he was going to do it. And was surprisingly disappointed when he didn’t.
Disappointed or not, it was for the best.
Chapter Sixteen
Jemma clicked through her email inbox, deleting spam and newsletters left and right.
Despite warning Cage that he needed to prepare for her to leave, he hadn’t shared any type of plan with her.
She’d stopped by Justice Bail Bonds after leaving the garage that day and Judge assured her that they’d keep an eye out for the Shirleys. Not only at the trailer, but the whole farm and at all the club’s businesses. While he took the possible threat seriously, he’d kept his cool about it.
And, of course, he wouldn’t share with her what exactly, if anything, he’d do about the “inbred fuckin’ hillbillies” if the threat was real.
Her brother was far from happy when she reamed him up one side and down the other about not warning her before asking for her to return home to help Cage out. She actually heard a chuckle from Deacon as she stomped back out of their office after flipping them both off.
From there, she went back to the trailer and did what she planned, which was flood the job market with her resume again.
While jobs were plentiful, they weren’t for her niche. And the hospice care facilities with job openings were as slow as molasses when filling positions.
She glanced through new emails stating they’d received her resume and, if she was the right candidate, they would contact her soon for an interview.
The right candidate.
If they reached out to her last employer, she might not get contacted at all. She had kneed the head doctor and part owner of the private hospice center in Cleveland right in the nuts. But it had been an effective and quick way to get his unsolicited hands off her ass and breasts.
Most of the nurses and admin staff called the asshole Dr. Grabby. For the most part, the female staff knew how to avoid the “accidental” brushes against their chests or rears. They also did their best to not be alone with him if—more like when—he had his sight focused on them.
However, that fateful day the doctor followed Jemma into the supply closet and crossed the line to the point he couldn’t brush it off as “accidental.” In turn, she “accidentally” knocked his nuts up into his body cavity with her knee. Hard enough he dropped instantly to the floor and actually blubbered. With real tears, too.
She then calmly walked out of the closet, went down the hall saying goodbye to her patients and went home. It wasn’t long before the HR person called her about her termination.
No surprise.
She had inappropriately touched him. Imagine that. She was also lucky he wasn’t pressing charges. Jemma laughed and hung up.
The result was her previous employer was a smudge on her resume that might be difficult to overlook by some prospective employers.
While she’d received three job offers already, either the pay or the location, or both, were shitty. She might have to take one in the meantime, anyway, just to get her through financially until something better came along. She’d barely made her last car payment and was scraping the bottom of her bank account.
No matter what, she needed to keep paying for her car and her storage unit in Ohio. Even if she had to borrow money, which she really didn’t want to do. She’d leave that as a last resort.
She needed to make a serious decision. She’d been caring for Dyna a little over six weeks now and as much as she loved her, taking care of the baby wasn’t a paying job nor what she wanted to do as a career, even if she was paid.
Her calling was to be a hospice nurse. To ease a person’s journey into the next stage of their life or afterlife, whatever that destination was for her patient. Heaven, Valhalla, worm food or a return to being stardust.
