Some enterprising soul had cropped that photo to show her, with a black stethoscope around her neck. It was right next to a photo of the mayor, along with a recap of what had happened to the two of them in the storm. And right there, next to that photo, was a candid of Turner comforting her at the hospital after Izzie had been shot. Well. Someone in this hospital needed their phone taken and shoved up their…nose. Talk about an invasion of privacy.
Annie kept reading the article.
Now she was the mayor’s mystery lover, apparently. Her cheeks heated. She was never going to live that down. Mystery woman to mystery lover. She supposed it wasn’t that far of a leap. No doubt her mother was cackling at her plastic kitchenette right now. She always had loved it when Annie got embarrassed publicly.
“At least they aren’t speculating about you and Turner as much as they did Jillian and Rafe.” Izzie snickered slightly, then grimaced. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was still hurting. A lot. Annie was onto her friend. “That was horrible. I was embarrassed for Jillian. What was it they called them? The Devastating Deanes?”
“I’m glad you’re finding it entertaining. I wonder if the Mega-Hot Mayor feels the same way?” Or if he was as embarrassed as she was. Annie slipped behind the bed and adjusted Izzie’s pillow. “You need to sit up more. You’re going to end up with fluid in your lungs.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You sound just like Dr. Evil.”
Dr. Evil. Her nickname from months ago—for Allen Jacobson. “Dr. Jacobson’s right—and you know it, Izadora.”
“It hurts. The incision. Over my liver.” Izzie shot her a cranky look. Annie bit back a smile. Izzie was always cranky whenever she was feeling slightly better, but not where she wanted to be.
Annie had taken care of Izzie tons of times before. Izzie had struggled with the asthma when they were in middle school so badly that Annie had freaked every time her friend had coughed. Izzie was probably the number one reason she’d realized she wanted to be a nurse back in high school.
Someone had had to take care of Izzie, especially when Jake was working. He hadn’t asked for a fifteen-year-old girl to be thrust on him before he was even in his thirties himself. Financially supporting her had been tough for Jake, too. He’d just been an officer at the time. Historically, TSP officers weren’t paid all that well.
The man had made things work.
They all had.
There had been one memorable time when Annie had had to call 911 at two a.m. because she’d slept over at Izzie’s and Izzie’s mom had disappeared for two nights. Izzie had begged her not to call the ambulance, that her mother couldn’t afford it and would be angry with Izzie. But Izzie had been turning blue, and Annie had made the decision, no matter how mad it’d made Izzie. Izzie had spent a day and a half in the pediatric ward at county. Her uncle had dragged her mother to sit by her side.
Annie had snuck into Izzie’s room while Jake had been at work and her mother had gone home to sleep and just held Izzie’s hand until her friend had been ok.
Izzie had been barely fourteen, Annie still thirteen.
Annie had begged a well-meaning physician not to call social services when she’d been discovered in Izzie’s room at two a.m. that night. Izzie’s mother had taken off again by that point. She’d been afraid she’d lose Josie and Izzie both. She’d already been familiar enough with social services by that point to know they were nothing to sneeze at.
Her opinion hadn’t changed much in the years since.
The fear she had felt still made her sick when she remembered.
She grabbed the brush out of the nightstand and tried to tame Izzie’s hair into something resembling a hairstyle. Her friend’s hair always had had a life of its own when she didn’t use the hair dryer on it.
Izzie liked to complain that she looked like a dark-haired troll toy from the 1990s.
The hair…maybe. But everything else…
She was far too pretty to be a troll. Now her attitude sometimes, well…
“You’re fussing, Ann. You should go home to the boys.”
“They’re downstairs. They were having hot dogs in the daycare for dinner. Seeley and Solomon begged me to let them stay.” She was so sick of eating hot dogs. At least twice a week, she fed them hot dogs with macaroni and cheese. And green beans. It was cheap, fast, easy. And the boys liked it.
“I was hoping I’d be able to help watch the boys during the mornings after my shifts. To save you a few dollars.” Izzie grumbled again. “Not now. Sorry about that.”
“I know. And I love you for wanting to help. But you need to worry about getting better, rather than about what I am going to do.” With Izzie remaining on swing third shift, she’d have been able to watch the boys after their morning preschool classes were over. Then she’d planned to take them to the daycare around two in the afternoon before she slept herself. That would have cut Annie’s daycare bill down by half. The hospital daycare charged by the hour.
But Izzie was going to be sidelined for at least another month.
Annie didn’t care. She had her best friend grousing at her right now. “You’re alive. And that’s all I care about right now. You and Nikkie Jean.”
Nikkie Jean’s future stepson was down in the daycare now, too.
Nikkie Jean was hovering over Izzie when Annie couldn’t. Worse. Nikkie Jean was a bit more freaked out by Izzie’s injuries.
Nikkie Jean was struggling to process what had happened. They all were. Caine and counseling were helping Nikkie Jean find her feet again. In the meantime, Nikkie Jean was struggling with almost losing Izzie. No doubt it was driving Izzie batty. Izzie hated when people she loved hovered over her.
“The TSP came by again to ask me questions about what happened. Ol’ Wally still won’t talk, I guess. I’d seriously like to know what I did to him to tick him off enough to try to kill me. I didn’t realize I was that much of a witch.”
Wallace Henedy—Annie had never liked the man. The way he had watched the women sometimes had completely creeped her out. His eyes had followed Annie around like they had legs of their own sometimes. Nikkie Jean and Izzie had said the same thing. Wallace Henedy had liked to watch women.
Too bad someone hadn’t seen through him from the beginning. Then Izzie wouldn’t have been hurt so badly. Nikkie Jean wouldn’t have been so threatened, either. Annie was still trying to process the anger that brought.
If they’d just had the answers about why he had gone off the deep end, it would help. Other than what he’d told Nikkie Jean and Izzie that day, no one had any idea why he had shot Izzie and taken Nikkie Jean hostage.
All anyone knew was that Wallace’s wife had left him, and he’d taken Nikkie Jean and Izzie hostage six hours later.
Annie shuddered as memories of another man just like Wallace Henedy flooded her head.
Her own father had been a lot like him. A physician at Finley Creek County, he’d been arrested when she was twelve after he’d tried to kill her and her mother over some stupid dispute between her parents. When the arresting officer had dug deeper, he’d found other illegal activities on her father’s part. Those charges had been what had him still in jail to this day.
It had been Jake MacNamara who had pushed for the child abuse and attempted murder charges. Jake who had somehow started the ball rolling to find out just exactly what her father had been involved in back then. He’d been visiting Izzie the night it had happened.
Her friend had heard her screaming in her front yard, two doors down from where Izzie and her mother had lived in a rented single-wide. Izzie had known it was Annie. And that the abuse was happening again.
Her father hadn’t turned on Annie or Josie often—they made too good of little servants for that—but when he had it had almost always been Annie. And it had always been bad. That last time had been the worst. Izzie had sounded the alarm, telling Jake all of Annie’s secrets.
Jake had come running. He’d saved Annie’s life that day. She had no doubt about that.
Jake would always be one of Annie’s heroes.
Her father had left her life that day, and Annie hadn’t missed him even once since. Anything she’d needed a father for, Jake or Mr. Henderson had been there.
Wallace Henedy had reminded her of her father in so many ways.
“You’re quiet. Quieter than usual.”
“I’m...thinking. About Dr. Henedy. My father.” She paused for a moment. “Yours. Nikkie Jean’s. I’ve not seen a whole lot of decent ones in our little posse, that’s for sure.”
“Jake. Jake is a damned good father. I can vouch for that.”
She and Izzie had lived near door to each other from about the age of three until ten. Their fathers had worked at the same hospital. Their mothers had been friends, as well. On paper, it sounded idyllic. Wealthy fathers, pretty mothers. A close friendship between both families. Secret abuse. For Izzie, it had been neglect and verbal mostly. For Annie, it had been hard fists and drunken anger. They’d lived in one of the better neighborhoods in Finley Creek, but that hadn’t mattered. She and Izzie had been targets in their own homes.
Until Izzie’s father had left when she’d been eight. He’d paid support for a few more years after that, but it had just trickled off after a while. He had a new family somewhere; Izzie had learned years ago. And he wanted nothing to do with the one he’d left behind. They’d attended the same public school after that, but having Izzie in the same neighborhood again was probably the only reason Annie hadn’t broken under the adult responsibilities that had been thrust upon her the day the cops had hauled her father away because of her. That was the day her mother stopped caring if Annie lived or died—if she’d ever cared at all.
Izzie had always been her port in the storm.
“Henedy was just a nutcase. An asshole with problems. And as for our fathers? We just got the asswipes of Finley Creek County as our sperm contributors. Our mothers should have fished from the Finley Creek Gen pool. Although, seems it is just as polluted lately. Probably was even filthier back then. With Daniels, Lanning, and Henedy being such sterling examples of the men who pass through these doors.”
Izzie would always let the bitterness toward male physicians guide her. Her father had been a gifted oncologist, winning accolades and recognition everywhere. Izzie was just as brilliant, but life circumstances had combined to put her in a tough financial situation.
The cold, harsh reality was that Izzie couldn’t afford to go after her own dreams.
But her ability to trust men, especially physicians, had disappeared long ago. Much like Nikkie Jean’s had, after a physician friend of her father had sexually assaulted her as a teenager. That had been one thing they’d all had in common—doctor fathers who hadn’t been deserving of the gift of children. If she hadn’t been such a talented nurse, so driven to help people, Annie suspected Izzie would avoid hospitals like the plague. But Izzie truly was a gifted nurse. She’d have been a gifted physician too.
“Your bitterness shows through again.” Annie told her. She wasn’t as bitter. But she hadn’t been stalked and terrorized and bullied by two separate doctors like Izzie had, either.
“I’ll get over it eventually. When I’m eighty.”
“They’re not all bad. Rafe, Caine, Virat Patel, Cage Ralstone...”
“If you say Allen Jacobson, I’m going to smack you, Ann.”
She hadn’t been going to. But she’d thought it. He’d always been kind to her.
A little oblivious to the real world around him, in his little wealthy tower where everything tended to fall into his lap, but in recent months, he’d been jarred loose. And he was holding up remarkably well. Showing a streak of honor she wouldn’t have expected back when she’d first met him. He’d tried to save Izzie from the third bullet. With his own body. No one had missed that. Security videos had shown him almost grabbing Izzie and pulling her close, right before Wallace Henedy had fired that final time.
Dr. Jacobson and Izzie were far worse than Rafe and Jillian had ever been when it came to getting along while on the job.
“Cage Ralstone has asked me to dinner.” Annie told her, quietly. “I’m considering going with him.” He was a pediatric surgeon, and everyone loved him. He was like a male version of Nikkie Jean, it seemed sometimes.
“Good for you. Get your Kevlar ready. He may seem like a nice guy, but I’m sure he’s just as bad as the rest of them.”
“Ok. That’s enough, Izadora. Time to get up and get moving. You’re getting even worse than Rafe when it comes to cranky. I don’t want you stewing in this bed.”
“I’m waiting for Lacy and Jillian. They were supposed to take me for a walk, complete with leash.” She motioned to the IV stand. So cranky. So exasperating. So Izzie. Annie loved her friend just the way she was. “Promised to get me out of the cursed room. The ghost has been teasing me today.”
“This room is not haunted. It’s supposed to be cursed. There’s a difference. We’ll just have to meet up with Jillian and Lacy on the way.” No doubt they were hanging around Wanda’s desk, talking. They all did it at the end of their shifts. It was part of their routine and the only reason half of them had friends at all. Finley Creek Gen was probably the best of the hospitals in the state. Only the best worked there. Annie felt privileged to work there, honestly. Maybe she hadn’t when she’d first been hired on—she hadn’t thought she had the skills. But now? She was right where she belonged. But that meant a lot of them were workaholics. They were a bit dedicated to their callings. All of them.
Annie included. Well, as much as a single mother of three boys could be. The struggle between the two parts of her was sometimes more than a bit overwhelming.
“Come on. We’ll go find everyone else. Get you out of 403 for a few minutes.” She gave Izzie a quick visual inspection. She’d already checked the surgeon’s instructions. Virat and Cage had taken Izzie on. Brave, brave men, those two. “It says you can walk around as long as you want. As long as you don’t overdo it. We’re going to be reasonable, and I have the final say in when you get back in bed. Otherwise, I’m leaving you here and suggesting to Cherise that you should probably stay quiet the rest of the night. No one but the Cursed Nurse to keep you company.”
“At least I’m in pajamas. I still wish I had a darned bra.”
“Once the incision heals.” Not that Izzie needed one. She’d always had a better figure than Annie. Still, Annie understood the need for battle armor. “You look just fine, now that the troll hair has been tamed. I know exactly how you feel, remember? Impaled. Stuck here for nine days. All that fun stuff.”
“No kidding. Let’s go. I want to find Nik. Check on her. Make sure she’s not doing too much. I’m worried about how she’s handling everything that happened. This had to set her back in her recovery. I hope W4HAV gets back up and rolling soon. First the storm, and then Henedy…I bet Margo and Ari are going nuts right now.”
Izzie had always felt protective over their friend, from the moment they’d caught Logan Lanning trying to intimidate Nikkie Jean her first week on the job at Finley Creek. Izzie had taken one look at her and gone practically rabid, snapping and snarling at Logan Lanning until he’d backed away completely.
Annie couldn’t explain it, but where Izzie had felt the urge to protect Nikkie Jean, Annie had felt the urge to take care of her in a lot of ways. Nikkie Jean might be the eldest of their little trio, but emotionally, she was a bit more fragile. She just seemed so vulnerable at times.
Everyone felt protective of Nikkie Jean.
Except Wallace Henedy, apparently.
“Between what has happened to you, to Nikkie Jean, to Lacy and Jillian, I’m feeling a bit raw myself.” Understatement.
Just getting through was becoming her only mantra lately.
The city only had fifty thousand occupants. There shouldn’t be this much drama. Especially surrounding one hospital. Unless…there was a problem that went so deep in the hospital that everything else just tentacled off from there. Annie shuddered to
even think about that. “Hopefully, Wallace Henedy was the end of everything. We need normal around here again. Nice, stable normal, please.”
“Preaching to the choir.” Izzie had the slippers Jillian had provided on her feet now. Annie studied how her friend was moving, evaluating just how much Izzie would be able to handle today. “I’m ready. I need to get off my ass and get moving. I hate this.”
Izzie always had hated being vulnerable. It hadn’t just been once or twice she’d been hospitalized with the asthma complications. It had been several times a year until she was living with her uncle. Then, the asthma had almost been under control, with flare-ups only two or three times each year.
Her mother had been a chain smoker. No doubt that had contributed to it. But it had left a lasting mark on her friend.
They were both just shadows of the past at times.
A rush of anger stabbed at her. She was so tired of struggling for everything all the time. It wasn’t just money.
“Why do we always have to fight for everything, just a little piece of normal? We just get ahead, and then something happens to knock us back? A tornado? Wallace Henedy? The mayor?”
Izzie paused from sliding out of the bed. All traces of her own irritability had disappeared, to be replaced by concern. “Annie? What is it?”
“The mayor came by my house yesterday.”
“And?”
“He tried, Iz. And I believe him. But he can’t save my house. He saved most of my neighborhood. But my house and four others can’t be saved.”
Annie’s eyes filled with tears. The only thing she had besides the boys, Josie, and Izzie, was that house. And now, they were just going to take it away.
She’d worked herself into an ulcer when she’d been fifteen and had to pay property taxes for the first time. She’d sold her favorite dolls and all the accessories—toys her grandparents had given her over the past seven years—when she’d been fourteen and they’d needed new shingles for the roof. She’d paid three older boys in the neighborhood to lay them on the roof for her.
Walk Through the Fire (Finley Creek Book 10) Page 13