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“But I will be. It just pisses me off I might not be safe in my own house or even at work right now.”
I hug her tighter. “I know, but know that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you are safe and stay that way.”
She twists around in my hold and drapes her arms around my neck.
“I know you will.”
Then she kisses me.
Chapter 21
Dana
* * *
I am so glad this week is almost over.
The constant vigilance, looking over my shoulder, jumping at every notification or call on my phone, trying to keep my body so busy my mind can’t spin, and then the restless nights, it’s all wearing on me. I haven’t even allowed myself any thoughts of my mother, afraid if I do, I won’t be able to function at all.
The worst part is, I have to pretend everything is hunky-dory because that’s what people would expect to see. After all, I am living my dream in the DIY house I’ve always wanted, with a brand-new boyfriend who rarely leaves my side. All of it true, but they don’t see the full picture where someone is trying to take my dream house from me, and the reason my boyfriend is around all the time is a security measure.
It feels like this dark, heavy cloud is following me around, threatening to unleash a downpour at any given moment.
All right, enough with the self-pity and the doomsday attitude, I’m starting to sound ungrateful. I duck into the clinic bathroom to give myself a good shake and a cold splash of water before I see my last patient.
The last person I expect to see when I enter the treatment room is Doc Wilson. He retired several years ago, when Rohan Sharma came on board and took over his practice. It took him a little while to get used to the idea—he was still very much a presence at the hospital early on in his retirement—but has since embraced his newly gained freedom and, other than the condolence card I got from him after Mom died, I haven’t heard or seen him around in quite some time.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” I jokingly greet him. “Not off traveling the world today?”
I know Doc Wilson likes to go cruising nowadays, and has apparently been doing quite a bit of it. Some of it I’ve heard from a colleague—one of our radiology techs lives out near Lutton, which is Doc’s hometown—and the rest at the pub from Buck, who is Doc’s younger brother.
He grins, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m taking a service break. Due for an oil change and tire rotation.”
I sit down on the stool and roll behind the computer desk, bringing up Doc’s file the clinic nurse would’ve pulled up for me. It wasn’t so long ago we still did all our medical records by hand, and from what I recall, Doc himself was against the technical advancement of digitized files.
When I glance at him over the edge of my screen, I catch his expression and laugh.
“I know you don’t like it, but it’s honestly been a blessing. Much more efficient since we don’t have to spend hours a day updating files by hand. We record things in the moment and can maximize time spent with patients instead of on paperwork,” I explain.
“If you say so,” Doc grumbles, still not sold.
“Let’s have a look here,” I move on, recognizing a lost cause. “Your last checkup was before you retired. You didn’t come in for your annual last year, so I don’t have an updated lab report. We should probably get a full panel done to make sure our baseline is correct.”
“I guess.”
“But why don’t I check your vitals first. Could you take off that shirt for me?”
I notice a slight tremble in his hands as he unbuttons the flannel shirt he’s wearing. Not necessarily unusual for someone who falls into the seniors category, but noteworthy all the same. I add a quick line to his file while he strips out of his shirt.
He hoists himself up on the table and I get up to grab the blood pressure cuff.
“Say, what’s this I hear about you taking over Dozer’s old place?” he asks, when I try to fit the cuff around his spindly arm.
“Word gets around,” I observe.
“I try to keep tabs on my favorite people.”
I flash him a smile but don’t respond to his question until I have his blood pressure done.
