I’m steady on my feet, but he doesn’t let go. And I don’t step back.
My head is unfocused, rushing to catch up with my body. Because it feelsalive. More alive than I’ve been in ages.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” I whisper, for some reason not wanting to speak too loudly, to break the trance, to have him realize his fingers are tracing lazy circles on my hip bone.
“It’s okay.”
He smells like moonshine and smoke. Like memories from my teenage years. When life was simpler. The last time I felt this in my body, this aware of what I wanted.
I should step back. Put some distance between us. But right now, I can’t think of the reasons why.
“Jack.”
It might be the first time I’ve said his real name. I like the way it tastes in my mouth. Like something decadent. Intoxicating.
More so than the moonshine, it makes my head spin. Makes me feel drunk. Uninhibited.
“Stevie,” he says, and the sound of his voice sends a shiver of awareness down my spine, making want pool in the place behind my belly button.
I’ve thought about Jack a lot the last few weeks. He’s wormed his way into my life, into my head. But I haven’t thought about kissing him until now. About how he would taste and feel. The strength of my desire to do it shocks me.
My grip tightens on his sweatshirt, pulling the fabric taut between us. An invitation to close the final inch between us. My eyes lock on his just in time to see his expression shutter. For me to realize I’ve made a grave miscalculation.
The whiskey sours in my stomach. I drop my hand and move back, but he doesn’t let go of me, the heat of his hand burning through the fabric at my hip.
“I better get to bed,” I tell him before he can embarrass us both by turning me down.
His jaw tenses, and for a moment he looks like he wants to say something else. His eyes are bottomless in the dim light, searching my face, his own unreadable.
“Goodnight, Stevie,” he says, finally letting go of me. The warmth of his body disappears, leaving me shivering.
“Goodnight, Jack.”
Irunfartherthanusual the next morning, needing to burn off the heat still lingering beneath my sternum from last night. Something changed between Stevie and I. There was an awareness between us that hasn’t been before, and I know the crush that’s been growing is no longer one sided. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in the lingering touches. We almost crossed a boundary that would only make my goodbye harder in a few weeks.
I’ve just closed the last few steps to the back porch when my phone vibrates in the pocket of my workout shorts. My heart hammers even quicker when I see Amy’s name on the screen. Instead of heading inside, I slide open the call and press the phone to my ear, wipe the sweat from my brow with my forearm.
“Hey, Amy.”
She responded to my text about extending my contract saying she’d check with the hospital, but I haven’t heard anything since. The thought has been lingering in the back of my mind for a week. My time here is rapidly coming to a close, and I don’t want it too. Especially after last night.
“Jack,” she says, always straight to the point. “How are you?” Her Boston accent is thick. There’s noise in the background, someone yelling out a coffee order. She technically works from home, but I’ve never heard her anywhere but on a city street or in a busy cafe.
“Good,” I answer, chest still heaving from my run. It was brisk yesterday, but the temperature dropped overnight, and it’sfrigidnow, making my breath puff out in silver tendrils. “Did you get a chance to talk to the hospital?”
The sliding back door opens, and Stevie steps out, blowing into a cup of coffee. Her hair is down, sticking out from the sweatshirt hood pulled up over her head. My heart ratchets in my chest at the sight of her, and the memory of the look on her face last night makes my stomach ache. I’d wanted to do anything but leave her last night, but I didn’t feel right starting something with her when I wasn’t sure what I could offer.
“Yes, and they don’t want to renew the contract,” Amy says, pulling me back to the conversation.
Stevie finally sees the phone in my hand and stops, hooking a thumb over her shoulder and lifting a brow, silently asking if I want her to go back inside.
I shake my head, and do my best to return my attention to the phone call, a heavy weight sinking in my stomach.
“Did they say why?”
I’ve never asked to extend a contract, but hospitals have asked me to stay before. I’m a good nurse, and I work hard. So when I asked to stay, I thought they’d want me to.
“Remember you were covering for a nurse on maternity leave? She’s coming back at the end of your ten weeks, and they won’t need you anymore.”
