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“Maybe find something worth living for. Or, at the very least, worthtryingfor.”
Her eyes soften a little as she nods. “Yeah, you should too.”
“Who says I haven’t?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. I lean against the side of my truck, arms crossed over my chest. She rolls the window down as she drives past me.
“Try taking your own advice before you start giving it to others,” she suggests.
I shake my head. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I watch her drive away, not knowing what to do with the spark of fire I feel growing in my chest. The one I’ve spent five years carefully avoiding.
After a few minutes, I do what I do best and bury it.
Chapter Three
Lucy
Findingajobisharder than I expected.
I’ve applied to four different offices and while two companies called me back for interviews—and I thought they went well—I haven’t gotten a call back from either office.
Which is why I found myself grocery shopping for my mom while she’s at work and contemplating all my life decisions.
I sigh as I turn into the pasta aisle, inspecting the list mom wrote down for me. I squat down in front of the different pastas, squinting to read her handwriting.
“Lucy Carter?”
I jump as someone calls my name, squeezing my eyes shut. Of course, I would run into someone I know when I look like a hermit who hasn’t washed her hair in a week.
I stand and plaster on a smile, my heart sinking when I recognize one of my dad’s doctor friends. Dr. Fritz stands a few feet in front of me, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a small basket full of fruit and vegetables and a rotisserie chicken. He’s in slacks and a button up, and I try to remember if he’s still working at the hospital or if he’s moved on to private practice.
“Hi, Dr. Fritz, how are you?” I ask, still smiling.
Self-consciously, I push my hair out of my face. I’m in jean shorts, an old T-shirt from my high school that has at least two permanent stains, and my hair is in an awful messy bun.
“I’m doing well, how are you and your mom doing?”
I bite the inside of my jaw and try not to roll my eyes. It’s not that people don’t care, I know they do, it’s just that they don’t want therealanswer to that question. No one wants to hear how your mom cries herself to sleep most nights and you cried for an hour two weeks ago because they took one of your dad’s favorite TV shows off of Netflix.
“We’re hanging in there,” I say instead.
“Good, good. Listen, I heard you changed majors. Decided not to go to medical school, huh?”
I squeezed the handle of my cart so tight my knuckles turned white. My cheeks hurt from smiling so wide.
“I did, I thought I was better suited for business. I didn’t realize how difficult finding a job would be, though.”
“I understand. Well, I have my own practice now with Dr. Harold. I’m not sure if you remember him or not, but your dad worked with us for a few years at the hospital. Anyway, we’re looking for a new receptionist if you’re interested. The previous girl just recently moved due to a change at her husband’s job. We could really use the help.”
Subconsciously, I knew he was only asking because he’d been good friends with my father. And if he hadn’t run into me, he’d probably never would’ve thought to seek me out. And as much as the thought of working at a doctor’s office terrified me, I was also desperate. And a little broke.
“When would you need me to start?” I asked, hesitantly.
“Would next week be too soon?”
“No, not at all.” I smile, genuinely this time. “That would be great,”
