Kyle has quite a bit of medical equipment. “Would you consider getting an X-ray tech certification?” he asks me out of the blue.
“Are you thinking of getting an outpatient X-ray machine?” I ask. I know he doesn’t have one; he just showed me around.
“I am. The class is usually a little over a year. But you can do it online. It’s an investment, but the surrounding towns have been coming here too, so I think it would be worth it,” he says. “I can pay for it.”
“Let’s see how things go work life balance wise. I also need to talk to Caine about it,” I say as we walk to the reception desk.
“You don’t need his permission,” Kyle says, his voice low, clearly irritated.
“I’m not asking permission, but he is my partner, so I’m gonna talk to him about major life changes. It’s not about him approving it. It’s about us and making sure we have time for each other.” Why am I explaining this to him?
A crease forms between Kyle’s brows while I talk. It’s like he doesn’t realize what I do here could impact my life at home.
“Kyle, Larry’s here for his physical,” Rabecca says.
“Showtime!” Kyle says with a smile.
The day goes by in the blink of an eye. We saw fifteen patients today. Three didn’t have appointments, and we had to fit them in. Sawyer was one of them. The poor kid fell off a bronco, and the horse fell on him. Caine made him come in.
I was pleased to hear that the horse was fine, but poor Sawyer has a massive bruise on his hip. Kyle didn’t think an X-ray was necessary, so Sawyer went home, told to rest and use an ice pack.
I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know how I’d be if Caine were still bronc riding. Even with something as small as this injury, hearing about it, things could have been so much worse. Sawyer is lucky.
“Pick you up at eight tomorrow?” Kyle asks as we pull up to the house.
“Sounds good,” I reply.
I tense the moment I walk into the house. Jack is sitting at the kitchen island while Caine is washing the vegetables for dinner. But that isn’t the problem. Caine can prep; he just can’t cook to save his life.
But Jack has a forlorn expression on his face, and Caine looks, well, pissed.
“What’s going on?” I ask after Caine gives me a hello kiss.
“Sit down,” he says, lifting his chin andjutting it in the direction of the stools.
With a lot of hesitation and trepidation, I walk to the stool beside my brother, looking over my shoulder at Caine as he briskly shakes out his hands and grabs a dish towel to dry them.
“I got a text message from Mom,” Jack says.
“I thought you blocked her,” I reply. I turn to him and sit up straighter, feeling betrayed.
“Hold up,” Jack says, raising his hand in front of him. “I did block her. It was from an unknown number.”
I deflate a little at his words. My face scrunches up at him, unsure where this is going.
“She’s selling the house. We have a week to collect our belongings otherwise she’s throwing everything away,” Jack explains.
“Jack and I talked, and we think we should fly over and rent a truck, and drive everything back here,” Caine says. He leans over the counter and takes my hand.
I have known for a while that I needed to get my things. I’m just not ready. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to hear her voice or the cruel words.
I sit there, unmoving, in shock. “Selling the house?” I ask, still processing everything.
Jack merely nods his head.
“I can get us on a plane to Seattle leaving tomorrow,” Caine suggests.
“I just started my job.” I turn my attention to him.
