Page 97 of Yours to Keep

I wiped at my eyes, drawing in a long, steady breath. I realized then that my dad was right. Because of them, I wasn’t trapped. Quitting wasn’t my style and it would suck to be saddled with all that debt to repay to a place Sullivan was now in charge of—to him. But at the same time, because I knew my parents really would always have my back, I had a choice, and right now, that meant everything.

CHAPTER 36

SULLIVAN

Aweek passed and it still felt like I’d swallowed broken glass and was waiting for it to finish cutting its way through me. Work hadn’t helped. If anything, it made it worse.

Every hallway in Saint Raphael’s felt like it held the echo of her voice telling me exactly what she thought of me. Every nurses’ station was a reminder of the way she’d glared at me like I was evil.

Meanwhile, Liana’s question kept circling like a vulture in my head. Do you care more about your money or the girl?

I sat in my temporary office staring at spreadsheets I’d already memorized, the numbers sitting pretty in obedient columns, but my brain refused to cooperate. Everyone had been right about one thing, though.

If I cut my own salary, it would be the single most cost-effective way to free up budget space. The knowledge sat in my chest like a brick, making it impossible to look at those spreadsheets and not doubt the decisions I’d made.

I had so much money, it didn’t even feel real anymore. To me, it had become just numbers in accounts I rarely even checked personally. Investments multiplied in the background like bacteria in a petri dish, but firing a nurse?

That was groceries disappearing. Missed rent payments. Kids pulled out of extracurricular activities.

Even I could see that it would cause real damage, immediate and personal to people who didn’t have investments and money in bank accounts they never even thought about.

Annoyingly, as much as my decisions had been based directly upon the reports I’d received from the various department heads, I also couldn’t stop hearing Bree’s voice asking if I’d even bothered to find out who I was firing.

Eventually, I realized that the only way I was ever going to be productive again was to actually be productive, so I pushed back from my desk, grabbed my tablet, and headed down two floors to accounting.

Liana was hunched in front of dual monitors when I walked into her office, typing with the speed and aggression of someone trying to personally defeat Excel. She didn’t look up as I shut her door carefully behind me. “If you’re here to ask for another projection model, you’re buying me dinner first.”

“It’s not that this time,” I said. “I’m here for information.”

She looked up immediately, leaning back and studying me as one of her eyebrows arched. “That sounds ominous.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay,” she said carefully, gesturing toward the chair across from her desk. “Sit. What kind of information are you after, exactly?”

For once, I didn’t bother pretending I had everything under control. I didn’t, and it was blatantly fucking obvious at this point. The entire hospital was buzzing with rumors of the cuts. People shied away from me now more than ever. Like they thought looking me directly in the eye would be what cost them their jobs rather than their actual performance.

“You seem more dialed into the hospital staff than I am,” I said. “Like, you actually seem to know what’s really going on around here. What people are saying. That kind of thing.”

“That’s because I talk to humans occasionally,” she replied dryly. “I also didn’t come straight out and tell them I didn’t give a fuck what they think about me, so that seems to have helped.”

I groaned. “Right. That again. Okay, well, I need to know what I don’t know about these people.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “What does that mean?”

“Look, it’s not like I want to leave anyone without a job,” I said, the words scraping the inside of my throat on the way out, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. “I don’t exactly get off on yanking away people’s livelihoods, but that being said, I’m realizing I might not fully understand who I’m cutting.”

She studied me for a long moment, something cautious but curious flickering across her expression. “You’ve been listening to Bree.”

I didn’t answer, which apparently was answer enough.

Liana nodded slowly, then turned back toward her monitor, clicking through a few files. “All right. Let’s start with Emily. She’s the one Bree was most upset about, right?”

My stomach tightened, but I didn’t say anything or interrupt.

“She’s technically classified as a senior intake nurse, but that title doesn’t cover half of what she actually does. She helps with orientation for new hires. She informally mentors junior staff. She runs procedure refreshers when residents or new nurses feel shaky about something. She’s the person people go to when they don’t want to admit they’re struggling.”

“That’s not in her job description,” I said. “As far as I know, she doesn’t have anything to do with training or further education.”