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Me: Then maybe next time he should steal the kiss.
Drake: Will there be a next time? I hear Bethany is leaving soon to go back home.
&nbs
p; Me: There better be. And plans can always be changed.
Those words fly onto the screen automatically, and it isn’t until I press send that I realize the magnitude of what I just wrote.
I’ve always hated change, even though I need it. It makes me nervous and uncomfortable. But the thought of staying here longer doesn’t give me a bit of anxiety. And the thought that I’d be doing it because of Drake is in and of itself a miracle.
But how would we make it work? Would he want to make it work? I wouldn’t be able to extend my contract and stay at the hospital. I’d have to find a different job—one where Dr. Drake Merritt isn’t my superior.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. What if I didn’t find another job right away? I can’t not work. And then if I did find another job, I’d have to go through orientation and get adjusted to a new position with new co-workers, and that makes me want to throw up.
There’s a long pause, and instead of staring at my phone, I check my alarm clock to make sure it’s set for tomorrow morning, and then I check it again, and twenty-seven times after that. I only stop checking it when my phone dings.
Drake: Goodnight, Abigail.
Me: Goodnight, Drake.
Chapter 7
Abby
The following week hurries by. I picked up two extra shifts on top of three I already had scheduled, which means I got to see Drake almost every day. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to spend much time together. But we were able to steal a quick lunch twice and made plans for another dinner—one I was going to cook.
The lasagna and garlic bread were ready to go, and I’d just popped the cork on a bottle of wine when Drake messaged and said he wouldn’t be able to make it. An emergency surgery stole our night together.
So I lit the candle in the middle of my kitchen table, plated dinner, and ate alone the way I have so many other nights in my life. That was two nights ago, and I haven’t heard a word from Drake since.
Snow started to fall about two hours ago, toward the end of my final shift for the week, and it’s accumulating much more quickly than I’d anticipated. On my way home, I stop by the hardware store to grab a pair of gloves. I’m standing in line to check out when a little girl carrying a plastic sled steps beside me with her dad close behind.
“Are you going to go sledding?” I ask, nodding toward the plastic disc.
The little girl nods her head, causing her blond curls to bounce. “My daddy is taking me. My brother broke my sled, so we had to get a new one.”
“I’ve never been sledding. Is it fun?”
The little girl’s eyes grow round. “You haven’t?”
I shake my head.
“You hafta go! It’s the most fun you’ll ever have.”
“She’s right,” her dad says. “I’m not afraid to admit I get as much enjoyment from flying down the hills as my kids do.”
“No judgment here,” I say, holding my hands up. “It sounds like a blast. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t grab a sled for myself.”
“They’re back by the shovels,” her dad says, nodding to my left.
“Where do people go sledding around here?”
“I own fifty acres on the outskirts of town, and we have some pretty good hills, so that’s where we go. But when I was growing up, we used to go to the city park. There are a few hills out there.”
For the life of me I can’t remember seeing a park on my few short trips around town. “And where would I find the park?”
The girl’s dad smiles. “Are you familiar with the town?”
