Phoenix (Own The Skies Book 2)

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Phoenix (Own The Skies Book 2) Page 3

by Emma Nichole


  Writing is my first and truest love. Generally, in the form of poetry. I had a heavy nursing school load in my college days, but I still made the time to take extra English and creative writing classes. It made me happy. That is what I want with my life. Happiness and to bring happiness through my words.

  I lean my head back on the round lip of the tub and try to find my zen. I must fall asleep because I jerk awake to the sound of my cell ringing and the water around me has gone cold.

  Way to nearly drown, Nora.

  I reach down to dry my hand on a towel and tap my phone to answer the call and put it on speakerphone.

  “Hello?” I say, sipping my wine.

  “Good. I was hoping to catch you before you went to bed,” my best friend chirps through the phone.

  “You’re way too chipper for this early in the morning,” I say, groaning.

  “It’s nearly noon here, Nor. Time zones are a thing.” She giggles.

  “I sometimes forget you’re so far away. I’m not a fan,” I admit.

  “Then move here. You know you waaaant to,” she says in a singsong voice.

  “You know I would if—”

  She cuts me off, “If you could, but Marco and work keep you put.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Anyway, I was calling because I wanted to let you know I finally heard back from Candace at Bubbly Magazine...” She stalls.

  “And? What did she say?”

  “She said she wants to pass along my blog to her boss and if he approves, they may want to meet me in person!” I can feel her excitement through the phone.

  “No way! Amelia! That’s amazing!”

  “I’m trying not to get too excited yet, but to have a weekly feature on their website would be absolutely incredible.”

  “You’ll knock their socks off. I know you will.”

  “Enough about me though, how are you? How was your shift?” she asks. My best friend always wants to check in and make sure I’m all right.

  I sigh heavily and just say it, “We had a burn victim.” I don’t elaborate for a few reasons: patient privacy and I don’t have to elaborate. She’ll understand.

  “Shit, Nor. Are you all right? Were you directly involved?”

  “I was. I was assigned to him.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I know how hard it is for you.”

  I sink lower into the tub, even though the water is cold, letting it touch my chin.

  “It wasn’t easy. I had to turn off my emotions and just work, basically, but the smell... Amelia, God, the smell. It brought everything rushing back like it happened yesterday.” My stomach is recoiling now just thinking about it.

  “There are some times that are easier than others, right? Bad times will happen, you just have to know you can and will get through them.”

  “You always have such motherly advice. Thank you, Amelia. Seriously. For just listening to me and checking in.”

  “Always, babe. Well, I’m going to eat lunch with Cadence at school today; I’m going to let you go so I can run inside. I’m sitting in the parking lot like a freak. Call me if you need anything, okay?” she says.

  “I will, and tell her I said hello.”

  “Will do. Love you, Nor.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I wait until the phone beeps, signaling the call has ended, and then I sink below the surface of the water, letting the silence calm me and take me away, even if just for a few moments.

  Water is my solace. My sanity and my peace.

  Since the day my parents died when I was eight, water has been my escape. I’m sure a therapist could find some deep connection to my need for water, but I like to keep it simple. No need to make it more complicated than it needs to be.

  I stay under the surface until my lungs scream for relief. I push myself up, wipe the water from my eyes, and take a deep, cleansing breath.

  The day is over now. Washed away.

  Now comes tomorrow.

  No sooner do I pull myself from the tub, dress, slip into bed—and nearly fall asleep—does my cell ping with a text message. I pull it from the nightstand and open the messaging app.

  Amelia: Cadence wants to know when you’re visiting again.

  Me: Stop using Cadence to do your dirty work and stop texting during lunch.

  Amelia: Fine. Just bring your ass. I miss you.

  Me: You better. And soon...I promise.

  Amelia: I hope so. Case has been asking about you too.

  Me: Case who?

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