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Lainie signed the screen. “Thanks, Helen.”
The woman left, and Lainie clamped her mouth shut, then pressed fingers to her temples and peered at James with a worried look. “The door was cracked. I hope she didn’t hear any of that.”
“She and Bridgette are friends?”
“Yes, but that’s really beside the point. Telling you that was a lapse in good judgment. I shouldn’t have said anything. Especially not here.”
“I’m not going to say anything.”
“I know. I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought you would.” She checked his IV. “You need another bag. I’ll just grab one and be right back.”
“Thought you were off the clock.”
“I am, but I don’t mind doing this for you. I have the rest of the day off, tomorrow, and the next day too, so I’m good.”
She patted his hand, and he couldn’t help turning it to snag her fingers and lock his gaze with hers. “Thank you,” he said, his voice an octave lower and a few decibels softer than usual. Her grip tightened around his a fraction, then she pulled away. He cleared his throat, at a loss as to what to do with the emotions running through him. “Um, I’m going to close my eyes for a few minutes while you do that.”
“Good idea.”
“Then I want to talk to you about the dead guy you say you keep seeing.”
Five
Lainie headed for the supply closet, her gaze scanning the hallway. She really didn’t want to talk about Adam but could tell she’d piqued James’ curiosity and was going to have to fill him in. Besides, it might not hurt to get his take on things.
And decide she was losing it?
No, if anyone would understand, he would. And the fact was, she trusted James. She wouldn’t spill to a coworker, but she hadn’t thought twice about telling him.
Maybe her PTSD was morphing into something new and weird—and horrible. It certainly seemed to be loosening her tongue. No, she couldn’t blame it on that. It really was as simple as trusting James to keep a confidence.
Footsteps behind her sent the hairs on the back of her neck spiking. She spun.
Nothing but hospital workers and patients. And visitors. So many unfamiliar faces swarming the halls, but no one to be alarmed about. Except, maybe, the guy in the hoodie? He turned down a connecting hallway. Lainie huffed a sigh and continued her trek to the room on the right.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen and tapped the button to answer as she stepped into the supply room. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Lainie-girl, how you doing?”
She smiled at the nickname. “I’m at work so can’t talk long. What’s up?”
“I thought you had the day off.”
Her mother posted her work schedule on the refrigerator. “I do, but it’s a long ... story. What do you need?”
“Your mother mentioned you were coming over next Friday to help her clean out some stuff.”
Lainie’s brow rose. “She told you that?” Her mother never willingly involved her father in that scenario.
“Her counselor said she needed to start sharing that kind of thing with me. I think she’s trying.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Anyway, I’ve ordered a dumpster—”
“Dad, whoa, stop. A dumpster will terrify her. She’s not going to get rid of that much stuff.”
“She said I could order it.”
