“How was your date?” I blurt out. Well, fuck. That’s not exactly how I pictured asking.
“Really good, especially after you threatened him with bodily harm. Really helped him warm up to the small town charm,” she says sarcastically. I can’t tell if she’s joking or a little bit mad.
“Well, I just wanted him to know you have people looking out for you.” I try to stand tall when really I feel like a dog with his tail between his legs. Her brow furrows and her nose does that cute little flare thing that happens when she’s angry.
“Yeah, for future reference, I don’t need my ex fuck buddy threatening my dates. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me,but you don’t get to try and scare away those who do.” The fire in her gaze both terrifies me and turns me on.
Well, that clears up the question I had: if she is mad, she is. Rightfully so.
I shake my head as I feel my brows pinch together in exasperation. “Aspen, it’s not like that.”
“It is, actually. If you want to be my friend, then you need to be supportive of me.” She shakes her head and looks away, as if lost in thought.
“I get it. I’m sorry,” I say, meaning every word. I’m sorry for so much more than threatening her date. I’m sorry I can’t be the one to make her happy even though it’s the thing I want the most. I’m sorry I can’t stand the thought of her being with someone else, even though I chose this. But most of all, I’m sorry this is making her think it’s me not wanting her, because I want her like I want my next breath.
“It’s fine, let’s go inside, I’m cold and feel like shit.” She keeps her head down as she moves inside and I fight the urge to place my hand on her lower back and guide her up the steps.
“Well, let's hurry then.” I hope that she will look at me, so I can see her smile and this bone-crushing guilt I have can be eased, but she doesn’t, and I hate myself for it.
We step inside, and I help her remove her coat, the only bit of touch I am going to get from her from now on.
“How did the door go?” Mabel asks just as Jack steps in behind us.
“You didn’t have to send him out to help, I could have gotten it,” Jack says.
“Sure you could, sweetie.” She walks up and pats his cheek. “Now help me bring this to the table.”
“You all are a bossy lot, tonight,” Jack remarks as he hangs up his coat and his hat on the stand next to the door.
Their banter makes me laugh and forget for a second. I take a deep breath in and try to focus on the things I do have. I still have Aspen as a friend, as long as I don’t fuck that up. And I have this family. Which I much prefer over my biological one. This house is filled with some of the hardest working, most genuine people on the planet.
I think about that as I sit down at the table, and I try to forget about the way I feel about the girl next to me. Maybe in another life, I’ll get to love her.
Chapter 8
Aspen
The ER is slammed today; it is a lot of the days in the winter, especially in December. Busy bodies run all over the emergency room department trying to keep our four-room ER moving along. There are still a handful of patients in the waiting room. Today alone I have seen three patients who fell off a roof trying to put up Christmas lights. The snow has fallen heavily and there hasn’t been a break in its falling, but there have been plenty of broken bones.
“Okay, bay four is ready for a new patient,” Tanya, our charge nurse for today, says as she pumps the hand sanitizer onto her hands before running to put out the next fire.
“Want to rock paper scissors for the next patient?” Ava says.
“I’m a little worried if you hustle anymore today you’re going to go into labor and then I’ll be alone in this hell hole.” I walk over to where she is slouched, looking incredibly uncomfortable as she catches up on charting. “I got this one; I’ll have the chargenurse come help me if you need a break, okay?” She’s too damn stubborn for her own good, so I know she won’t.
We had a CNA float from the med-surg floor to help with our department today. She helps us room patients and turn rooms, since they were slow on the floor. We would be dead in the water if it wasn’t for her help. Next week, I'm bringing her a large, extra-caffeinated coffee as a thank-you.
Once the patient is roomed, I pop in and do my assessment, then relay my findings to the doctor. It doesn’t take me too long, but when I am done with that, it’s officially lunchtime and my thirty-minute break from the chaos.
Walking through the halls on my way to the cafeteria, I admire the hanging pictures taken by members of our community.
The cafeteria is small, but the food is homemade, though it's questionable on Fridays when they use leftovers to create some sort of hodgepodge meal.
I catch a whiff of fish and suddenly my mouth starts to water, and not in a good way; my gag reflex kicks in right behind it. I have to brace my hand on a nearby table to get it together. Taking a few deep breaths to get my shit together and not upchuck all over the floor, my mouth finally stops watering and I open my eyes so I can get in line.
The special is Fish and Chips, and usually, I love this. They make a killer homemade tartar sauce. It’s probably because it’s 2:30 in the afternoon and I haven't eaten in hours. Sometimes when I push myself too long without a snack, I get nauseous. It’s annoying, but once I get some food in me, I will be better.
Sitting down, I try to take a bite and realize I was wrong; getting food in me did not help. The second the fish touched my tongue, I knew it was a mistake. The nausea came back with a vengeance, and if there had been anything in my stomach to evacuate, my body would have. Instead, I got to dry heave into the toilet fifteen out of thirty minutes of my break.
