“Hey, girl. How’s it going?” she asks as she reaches over the counter for her water.
“It’s going great. I’m really starting to find my footing. I’ll have my chemo certificationnext week.”
“Trudy said you were a rock star. I see what she was talking about.”
I’m the worst at accepting compliments. Instead of sayingthank youlike a normal person, I feel my cheeks redden, and I stand in silence.
She continues—thank God— “Are you going to the charity event next month?”
“Oh, Trudy told me about it. I’m not sure I have anything to wear.”
She offers a wide smile. “Girl, you live in New York City. There are plenty of stores that can solve that little dilemma.”
I try to suppress my giggle. “I know. I know. I suppose I’m a little nervous about attending. I don’t know many people.”
“Well, I’ll be there. Trudy will.” She looks over at our unit secretary. “Megan, are you going to the charity event next month?”
Megan smiles. “I am. My husband is staying home with the kids, so I’ll be solo this year.”
“Aha. Even better. Girls’ night out. Now you have to come,” Latoya demands.
“Okay,” I reply. “You’ve convinced me.”
She claps her hands. “Yay! I can’t wait.” Then she grabs her tablet. “Okay, back to my rounds.”
I laugh to myself as I get back to charting.
The hair on my skin begins to take notice. It’s him.
I see his arms rest on the counter directly next to me.
“Did you add to 452’s chart that she is experiencing progressive pain?”
“I was about to do that. Her current dose doesn’t seem to be keeping her comfortable.”
I try not to look as he swipes the screen of his tablet. His sleeves are rolled up, a detail I notice he does when he’s flustered. But now I can see the veins in his arms strain as he moves. It’s distracting.
“I’m putting in an order to add another medication. Alternate every four hours. This should improve her comfort. Let me know if she’s still in pain.”
“Got it. I’ll get right on it.”
He nods once, already stepping back, his gaze flicking over me in a way that makes my skin tighten.
I stare down at the chart in front of me, suddenly aware that I’ve been holding my breath.
That was nothing, I tell myself.Just a long day.
Still, when I return to my work, I have to read the same line twice before it makes sense.
Chapter Six
Colton
Idon’t want to be here.
That’s the first clear thought I have as the noise hits me—music too loud, laughter too easy, the air thick with a kind of energy I don’t have room for tonight. My shift ran long. It always does. And somewhere between my office and the bar, I forgot how to turn the day off.
“One drink,” I tell the guys, already scanning for the shortest path back out. “Then I’m leaving.”
