I’m done with noncommittal men. After wasting six months of my life with Mike, I’ve been there, done that, and I’m not doing it again.
“How was the night?” I ask, forcing myself to get changed.
“Slow, which was kinda nice after the day you all had.” Jane takes off her name badge and pulls a sweatshirt over her head. “The PACU is freezing today, though. Something about a busted boiler.” She shrugs. “Do new buildings still have boilers? I feel like that was a thing on the Titanic.”
I laugh. “I think it was, and I’m not sure. Maybe big buildings do. Are we well-stocked with blankets?” Patients are cold already after waking up from surgery.
“Yes, and Dr. Keller was pissed about the weak heat. Someone is bringing in those little desk heaters to put in the recovery rooms if the heater doesn’t come back full-force.”
“That’ll help. And I thought it felt cold in here too.”
“I’ve been freezing all shift. I cannot wait to go home and get in bed.”
“Bed,” I say wistfully. “I would do anything to be back in bed right now.”
Hilary breezes in, looking way too perky for an early, cold morning. “Did you cave and bring Dean home with you—again?”
“Hah. I wish. Well, not really. I’m all for finding a nice guy to date, but he’s not that.”
“Not nice?” Jane asks.
“Oh, he’s nice.” I grab scrubs to put on. “Just not into dating. My last boyfriend strung me along for months only to say he didn’t want anything serious. I don’t want to waste my time like that.” I shrug and try to brush everything off. “But for now, I really want to focus on myself and finally get my shit together. I’ve been thinking about going back to school to get my master’s, and I’d love to get in better shape. Maybe I’ll join a gym. Then I’ll worry about dating after I’ve been here for more than a month.”
“Good plan there.”
We change and walk out of the locker room, getting report and then starting our shift. Today goes smoother than yesterday, and I’m so looking forward to having the next three days off. I’m sleeping in tomorrow and then driving to Chicago to have dinner with Mom, Dad, and Sam.
Wanting to stay true to my word, I go home, change, and then drive to the only gym in Eastwood after work. I get nervous working out in front of people, and my heart is racing as I walk up to the counter.
But then I’m all signed up, and the super-fit girl behind the counter shows me around, telling me not to hesitate if I need help with anything, which makes me feel a whole lot better. She’s a personal trainer, and she’s so encouraging and passionate about working out I’m tempted to sign up right here and now.
“What do you want to do today?” she asks.
“I was thinking of starting with cardio,” I say with a shrug.
“That’s a great place to start. We have an indoor track as well as the machines. I’ll walk you over. The elliptical is popular with people just starting out. It’s lower impact and doesn’t feel as discouraging as when you start out wanting to run a mile.”
“That makes sense. Yeah, I’ll do that.”
She takes me over and gives me a quick rundown on how to work the machine, which is pretty self-explanatory anyway. Then I put on my wireless earbuds and set up my phone, watching The Vampire Diaries while I work up a good sweat.
Half an hour later, I’m exhausted, and my legs feel like noodles. Wiping sweat from my brow, I get off the machine, wipe it down, and head to the track to walk a few laps as a cooldown.
I almost doesn’t see him, but he catches my eye at the last second, right before I go into the hallway that takes me to the track in the second level of the gym. He looks good in the athletic shorts and tank top—very good. His hair is pushed back in that sexy-messy way again, and even though I’ve seen him naked, I’m taken aback by how fit he is.
And then Dean sets the weights down and flashes that signature cocky smirk at some girl standing by a bench. She’s wearing booty shorts and a sports bra and immediately makes me want to skip dinner. I don’t think I’ll ever be that thin.
He goes around her, helping her get the right stance before lifting weights. His hand lands on her lower back and she returns that cocky smile with a sexy grin, and a sick feeling bubbles up in my stomach.
“Doesn’t matter,” I mumble, wiping more sweat from my face. We had one incredible night together, and that’s all it was and all it ever will be.
“Rory!” someone calls, and I internally wince. My face is beet red, and I know I stink. But hey—so do a lot of other people here. I’ve just made it up the stairs and am emerging onto the track. I turn and see Quinn walking next to a gorgeous blonde woman. Quinn is red-faced as well, with her hair up in a messy bun on the top of her head.
“Hey,” I say, taking one of my earbuds out of my ears. “How are you?”
“Dying,” Quinn says and looks at her phone. “I’m doing thirty second sprints and am supposed to be running for thirty and walking for thirty, but I’m struggling today.”
“It’s kind of dry in here,” I offer, looking up at the heat vents. “It makes it hard to breathe.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s it.” Quinn picks a lock of hair off her neck and wraps it around her bun. “This is Scarlet, my sister-in-law. And Scar, this is Rory.”
“Hi,” I say, still a little out of breath.
Quinn’s phone buzzes in her hand and she throws her head back. “Dammit. I swear the walk seconds go by faster than the run seconds.”
“You’re wasting time,” Scarlet points out, laughing. “Go run while I continue to walk at a leisurely pace.”
“It would be rude to run away from Rory,” Quinn tries, and we all laugh. “I need an extra thirty seconds. Then I’ll run double.”
“You’ll regret that.” Scarlet pushes her long blonde hair back.
“You’re not running?” I ask her.
“I don’t like to break a sweat. Walking is good enough for me. Though I do like yoga. Mostly because my husband likes to watch me do yoga.”
“Gross,” Quinn says, wrinkling her nose.
“Quinn said she had four brothers. I know Dean, and then two others own the bar, right?”
“Right,” Quinn pants, putting her hand on her side. “Weston is my oldest brother, who Scar is married to. Logan and Owen are the ones who own the bar.”
“That’s a lot to keep track of,” I say with a chuckle.
“Hah. Tell me about it. It was a lot to put up with as a kid.” She looks at Scarlet. “Rory has three older brothers.”
“I couldn’t handle a fourth. I feel for you.”
“My brother is younger than me,” Scarlet says. “I miss that little asshole.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Scarlet waves her hand in the air. “He’s not dead, and he’ll be home soon. Well, I hope. He’s in the army.”
“It’s hard having a brother in the military. Mason, one of my brothers was a marine. He’s an FBI agent now.”
“Weston was in the army,” Quinn says. “He’s the oldest and I’m the youngest, but I still remember the day he left…and the day he came back after his first tour. We were all so relieved when he finished his second and decided to go into law enforcement here in town instead of going back again.”
I bob my head up and down. “Mason is only a few years older than me, and it was so hard.”
“FBI is cool, though,” Quinn slows down, and the color is fading fast from her face. “Though I don’t think all those FBI shows are that realistic, are they?”
I let out a snort of laughter, mind flashing back to the many times Mason went on a rant about how untrue those shows were…or how they hit too close to home.
“Not really…are you okay?” I ask, recognizing the look on Quinn’s face. She’s about ready to pass out. I quickly throw out my hand, catching her before she falters.
“Whoa, Quinn.” Scarlet grabs her other arm and we help her to the side of the track.
> “I’m…I’m…okay,” Quinn pants, sinking down to her butt and leaning against the wall.
“Do you want me to find Archer? Shit. He’s not here. Maybe there’s another doctor.”
“I’m a nurse,” I tell her and find Quinn’s pulse. Despite running, her skin is cool to the touch. “Do you have a history of low blood sugar?” I ask, gently opening her palm to see if her hands are clammy.
They are.
“Only when I’m—you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Quinn’s eyes fly open.
“What?”
“Only when I’m pregnant.”
“Oh my God.” Scarlet’s hand flies to her face. “You’ve been feeling sick on and off for days.”
“Your heart is racing, which could just be from running, or it could be from low blood pressure,” I go on, looking at my watch and then feeling her pulse again. “Which is common in pregnancy too.”
“It was really low last time around.” Quinn brings her hand to her head and closes her eyes, and I notice her fingers are trembling.
“Take some deep breaths, and I’ll find you something to drink. You need sugar and protein, and I have a protein bar in my bag.” I get to my feet. “Stay with her,” I tell Scarlet.
I hurry around the track, not stopping as I rush through the gym area to get to the lockers. I’m not even thinking about Dean as I breeze past him. I have exactly three dollars in my wallet—I never carry cash on me—and grab my wallet, the protein bar, and then sprint to the vending machine. I get a red Gatorade, leave the change, and run back up to the track.
Quinn has her head in her hands now, and Scarlet looks up as I sprint back over. An older woman has stopped as well to check on Quinn.
“Here,” I say, twisting the cap off the drink. “Take a small sip. You don’t want to overload your system, but once your sugar goes back up, you’ll feel so much better.”
“Are you diabetic?” the older woman asks, spinning her fanny pack around and unzipping it.
“No,” Quinn replies, looking like she might throw up.
“I think she’s hypoglycemic right now,” I reply, gently taking Quinn’s wrist in my hand to check her pulse. It’s still racing, and the anxiety of feeling like shit isn’t helping.
Quinn takes another small drink and leans back, resting her head against the wall. The older woman steps closer, and now that I’m wearing my nurse-hat, I’m not afraid to tell while you might mean well, you’re not helping. Back the fuck off, lady.
But I’ll say it nicer than that.
“Should I get someone from the front desk?” the older woman asks.
“No, she’s a nurse,” Scarlet tells her. “She’s got this.”
“Yeah, we should give her some space,” I say.
“Okay. Take care.” The old woman starts to power walk away, and as much as her crowding bothered me, it bothers me more that three other people have passed us without asking if we need help.
“Deep breath,” I tell Quinn, taking the Gatorade from her. I put the cap back on and open the protein bar. Careful not to touch it since my hands aren’t clean, I hand it to Quinn, and she takes a tiny bite. I wait a few seconds and offer her more to drink. We repeat this slow process for a few minutes.
“I’m feeling better now,” she says and starts to get up.
“Not so fast.” I take her wrist again. “Your heart is still racing. I’m afraid you’ll fall going down the stairs, and if you really are pregnant, that’s the last thing we want.”
“I’m going to get Wes,” Scarlet says and springs to her feet. She jogs down the track and hurries down the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead.
“Why are you sorry?”
“For being a basket case.”
“If possible low blood pressure and low blood sugar from a potential pregnancy makes you a basket case, then I’m just a hot fucking mess. Especially after you had to drive me home wearing your brother’s clothes over open-toed high heels in the winter.” I wrinkle my nose. “Talk about basket case.”
“Nah, that just proves you’re a fun, outgoing person.”
“I’m anything but,” I say with a laugh. I can tell Quinn is really embarrassed right now, and for some reason I think the best way to remedy it is by telling her something embarrassing about myself. You know, level the playing field and prove I’m just as human as the rest of them. “I don’t go out much, and that was actually the first time I went out by myself.”
“Really? You look like someone who’d go out and have guys fawning all over you. Sorry to judge.”
“Hey, if you’re judging me to be some seductive mistress of the night, I kinda like it.”
Quinn laughs. “Now you sound like a vampire.”
“That’s even cooler.”
She takes another small drink of Gatorade, and I move from crouching in front of her to sitting next to her.
“How are you feeling now?”
“The ground isn’t spinning beneath my feet anymore.”
“Good. You probably pushed yourself too hard given everything that could be going on. You should probably get checked out. Is Dr. Jones home?”
“Yeah, he got called in last night and was sleeping when I left.”
“Did you drive yourself here?” I ask and she nods. “I don’t think you should drive home. If one of your brothers can’t drive you, I will.”
“I’m sure they—speak of the devil.” She tries to get up when both Dean and a guy who has to be Weston come running down the track. Like the other brother I saw at the bar, it’s obvious Dean and Weston are related.
Dean’s eyes are on Quinn, brows furrowed with concern on his face.
“Rory,” he rushes out, surprised to see me. Then he blinks and reaches for Quinn’s arm, helping her to her feet. “You okay, sis?”
“Scarlet said you almost passed out.”
“I’m fine.” Quinn tries to swat Dean away, and Weston steps in, ready to pick her up if he has to.
“I have no way to know for sure,” I start, “but she’s showing signs of low blood pressure and low blood sugar. She’s been taking small sips of Gatorade and a few bites of a protein bar, which will help hold the sugar levels steady. But she should go home and be properly checked out.”
“Archer will check me out good and proper,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. Dean immediately makes a face.
“And she shouldn’t drive herself home,” I rush out before Quinn can insist she’s good enough to take herself home.
“I’ll drive you,” Dean says right away. “And thanks, Rory.” His eyes linger on mine for a few seconds.
“Of course.” I smile, heart lurching in my chest. We walk together down the track, and Weston puts his arm around Quinn as we go down the stairs, holding her steady.
“I’m glad you were here,” Scarlet says, walking with me to the lockers so she can grab Quinn’s stuff. “And props for not mentioning her maybe being pregnant.”
“It’s not my place to tell.”
Scarlet stops at her locker. “Does Quinn have your number? I’ll have her text you and let you know how she’s feeling.”
“Yeah, she does. I think. She did at least. I still have hers. I can text her in an hour or so.”
“She’d like that.” Scarlet slips her arms through her coat and unlocks Quinn’s locker next, grabbing her coat and purse as well. “It was nice meeting you, though I’d rather it be under better circumstances.”
“Right?”
“Are you busy this weekend?”
“I am, actually. I’m driving up to Chicago to meet my brother and parents for lunch.” I undo my combination lock and pull out my jacket, but I’m still hot and sweaty and don’t want to put it on yet.
“Are you from Chicago?”
“No, I’m from a small town in Michigan, but my brother works at Rush.”
“Oh, okay. I’m from Chicago. I do not miss it, though. I like the quiet and lack
of crime here.”
“I’ve only been to Chicago a few times, and I always did touristy stuff. Which is what I’m doing this weekend. I want to eat at the Cheesecake Factory.”
“Please tell me you’re getting cheesecake.”
“Do you even go to the Cheesecake Factory if you don’t get cheesecake?”
Scarlet smiles. “Thanks again for helping Quinn. She’s my best friend and is more like my sister than my real sister is to me.”
“I’m a nurse. I like helping people.”
“We’ll have to get together sometime when you’re not busy.”
I smile again. “I’d like that.”
We both walk out of the gym, and I strip out of my coat as soon as I’m in my Jeep. My phone is at three percent, and as soon as I plug it in, a text comes through from Annie, the charge nurse at the hospital. All her text says is to call her when I can. I’m at my max for hours this week, so she can’t be calling to ask me to fill in for a call off, so my mind immediately goes to me doing something wrong, though I can’t think of anything.
I crack my window, needing fresh air since I’m still sweaty, and call Anne’s cell. She answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Rory. Is this a good time?”
Oh no. I did do something wrong. Is she going to fire me? “Yeah. I just left the gym.”
“Great. How do you feel about Miami?”
“What?”
She laughs. “How do you feel about Miami?”
“Um, it’s nice? I’ve never been there.”
“Would you like to go?” she asks.
“I’m not following.”
“There’s a medical convention there, and this year its main focus is on advancements in surgery. Several of our surgical staff have been selected to go, and one of the nurses who was originally going can’t make it due to obligations with her children. To be fair, I put everyone’s name in a pool to draw from, and you’re my lucky winner.”
I blink. “What?”
Anne laughs. “It’s not as good as it sounds. You’ll still have to pay for your own airfare, but the hotel and three meals a day are covered for you. Text me your email address and I’ll forward you the information. Look it over, and if it’s something you’d like to do, then let me know and I’ll handle the scheduling. Since this is considered training, you will get paid for the hours you spend at seminars.”
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