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JOSIE
There are 172 lines in the ceiling. I know this, because I’ve sat here in Mr. Sherlock’s surgery for the past couple of hours, and counted them three times. When I sit up, the muscles in my neck complain and I groan, rolling my head around, trying to loosen them.
I keep imagining what my future looks like. I see tattooed arms, ocean-blue eyes, and that pretty little lip ring. Nothing else matters.
No person in my position would ever have this kind of time at work spare, when working in the city. I’ve run out of things to do. I’ve cleaned every surface, reorganised every cupboard, finished a complete stocktake of all items, ordered our next three months’ worth of supplies and also contacted all the recall lists.
Sighing, I slip out the side door and head to the reception desk. I pull up the schedule and see that Danny’s book is filled from start to finish, whereas I only have three patients.
“Hey,” I say to Belle, when I hear her head into the sterilising room. “Are there any patients I can see? To help reduce Danny’s workload?”
Belle yanks off her gloves and tosses them into the bin before facing me. She draws her lower lip between her teeth for a moment.
“I don’t think so, Josie.”
I swallow, instantly my finger moving to pick at my nails.
“Why?”
Belle exhales. “Apparently Nick’s mother has told all her friends that they shouldn’t see you.”
I blink long and slow, focusing on my breathing.
Belle offers me a sympathetic look. “Sorry, girl.”
Sighing, I head back to my surgery and text Harley, asking what time he has lunch today. I reach into my bag and pull out my study material. I have to head into the city at the end of this week for a practical assessment, so I may as well use this time to study for it.
Two hours have passed before I hear the bell ding, indicating someone has entered the practice. I jump to my feet, excited to have something to do.
Harley is leaning on the desk, looking adorable in his fluoro shirt and work boots. Red dirt clings to his skin and the sunglasses that are sunken into his hair have a thick layer of dust settled on them.
“Hi.” I smile.
“Hey,” he says, pulling me to him and planting a soft, lingering kiss on my mouth. “I’m sorry you’re having a shitty day. I know it’s sort of my fault.”
“What?” I ask, slinging my arms around his shoulders, not caring if his shirt is dirty.
“Nick’s mum. She’s only doing it because of everything that happened.”
I shake my head. “It’s all on me, Harley. I was the one who hurt Nick.”
“So did I.”
Years of guilt sits thick between us and I run my hand down the side of his face, wishing I could go back in time and undo all my mistakes.
I lean in and kiss him again. I could kiss him all day. I’ve held back for so long, it makes me feel a little delirious that I can now kiss him like this.
“Let’s go eat.”
We sit off to the side of the practice, underneath an awning. Harley pulls the burgers out of the bags and places them on the small table. It rocks unevenly each time we press onto it, so we have to put our drinks on the pavement.
“How’s your day?” I ask.
“Hot. Long. But better now.”
“I am so excited to get away from this hellhole for the weekend,” I say.
Harley freezes mid-bite and blinks at me. “What?”
