by Lexi Ryan
“What are you doing here?” I ask softly, looking back and forth between him and my patient.
“Just checking in on Isaiah and making sure he’s not giving you all too much trouble up here.”
This must be the friend he visited yesterday morning. How do they know each other? “He’s pretty damn lucky.”
“If you can call a guy who had to be cut out of his car ‘lucky,’” Isaiah grumbles.
“You are,” Carter says.
“My football season is over.”
Carter shrugs. “Now maybe you’ll know what I mean when I warn you that actions have consequences.”
“I only had a couple of beers.”
Carter grunts. “Five is not a couple.”
“I thought . . .” Isaiah scowls at the ceiling. “I thought I could drive fine.”
“You’re fucking lucky your car and the tree took the worst of the damage.”
“My car is totaled,” the teen says.
Carter folds his arms. “Would you rather you’d killed off some innocent family? You want a few deaths on your conscience for the rest of your life?”
I shoot Carter a look. I understand the need to shake some sense into the kid, but Isaiah’s parents are probably going to give him all the come-to-Jesus lectures he could ever want and more.
“I know I fucked up,” Isaiah says.
“Language,” I say, even though I don’t really mean it, not when he spoke softly enough that his voice won’t carry outside this room. I feel awkward standing here while they’re having this conversation.
Carter grunts. “This boy’s poor vocabulary is the least of my worries right now.”
“Does that mean you’re going to quit threatening to wash my mouth out with soap?” Isaiah asks. His words are edged with a sulk even as he fights back the ghost of a smile—as if he wants to be annoyed but, deep down, he likes that Carter gives him a hard time.
“Don’t count on it.” Carter pushes out of his chair. “Promise me you’ll be nice to the nurses. Teagan here is a good friend of mine.”
Isaiah’s lips curve into a broad smile. “Oh, yeah? Why haven’t you introduced her to me before?” His grin turns cocky, and he slowly looks me over from head to toe with those sleepy brown eyes. “Are you single? Because my girlfriend broke up with me, and you look like the best cure for my loneliness. I could use a little exotic flavor in my life.”
I fold my arms and fix him with a glare. “First of all, that’s offensive. I’m a woman, not some wild animal. Second of all, child, you wouldn’t know what to do with me.”
He hums. “But how can I learn if you don’t let me try?”
“Dream on, kid,” Carter growls. “She’s mine.”
An irrational thrill races through me at those words. I busy myself updating his chart in the laptop, hoping the screen hides my pink cheeks. I guess I need to get used to this if we’re going to pretend to be together.
Isaiah scoffs. “How on earth did your ugly mug manage to land someone like her? Are you a secret millionaire or something?”
I laugh at that. “That’s also offensive, my friend. Who made you think women are after money?”
“Girls don’t wanna have to pay for their own shit.” Isaiah shrugs. “A man should be able to spoil his woman.”
“You little punk. You think you can get away with anything just because your dad died!”
Carter and I whip around to the door at the exact same moment and see a blonde walking into Isaiah’s room.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” I ask, but I’m thinking about what she said. His dad is dead, and his mother shows up in his hospital room practically foaming at the mouth. Poor kid.
Carter clears his throat. “This is Shasta Murphy, Isaiah’s mother.”
Shasta looks about thirty pounds underweight. Her pale face is covered with acne, and her hair is greasy and stringy. I met enough addicts back when I worked ER to know one when I see one. I would pin Shasta’s drug of choice as meth.
“Nice to meet you, Shasta.” I step forward and offer my hand. “I’m Teagan, and I’m Isaiah’s nurse today.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, lady. I’m here to talk to my son. This little shit has no common sense.”
“This is a pediatric unit,” I say, infusing my voice with calm. “There are young children here. I’d like you to lower your voice and watch your language, please.”
“Yeah, Shasta,” Isaiah says, emphasizing her first name in a way that makes me think she hates when he uses it. “Nobody wants you here.”
“You know who came to my door yesterday?” She points a dirty finger at him, her nail bitten to the quick. “The police. That’s who. You and your stupid decisions made them come ’round asking me questions.”
“My stupid decisions?” He grunts. “I guess I learned from the best.”
“You’d better show your mom some respect,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Shasta, this isn’t the place,” Carter says.
She spins on him, a bundle of nervous energy—twitching shoulder, fingers drumming her thigh, foot tapping the floor to an irregular beat. “This isn’t your concern. You both get out of here.”
Carter takes one step forward and folds his arms. It’s not much, but it’s enough to put himself between the woman and her son, and his posture speaks volumes. If she wants to talk to Isaiah, she’s going to have to go through him.
“The police came to my door,” she repeats, jabbing a finger in the air toward Isaiah.
“I’m sure that must have been very stressful for you,” I say. I try to hide the sarcasm in my voice, but she spins and glares at me. “You must have been very worried about your son.” So worried that it took her another twenty-four hours to make it to the hospital.
“I want to talk to your boss. I won’t have some bitch talking shit to me.”
I smile sweetly. “I’d be happy to get the charge nurse for you.” I press the call button beside Isaiah’s bed and give the charge nurse the code for security. Better to have them on the way if this woman is going to keep up her attitude. “Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll find her together?”
“I’m not done talking to my son yet.”
“Yes, you are,” Carter says.
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Shasta doesn’t have custody of her son,” he tells me softly. “She has no legal rights here.”
“And you think you have rights? Did you carry him for nine months? Did you destroy your body to give life to this ungrateful little shit?”
“Mom, leave,” Isaiah growls.
Shaun, one of our security officers, steps into the room in record time. As discreetly as possible, I nod toward Shasta.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, stepping forward.
The woman stiffens at the sight of a man in uniform, but she lifts her chin. “Yeah. I want to file a complaint against this nurse. She’s disrespecting me.”
“Let’s go to my office so you can give me the details.” Shaun shoots me a look, solidarity in that stern expression. I haven’t had to deal with security often, thankfully, but of all the guys on the team, Shaun’s the best at defusing volatile situations.
“Don’t you ever come around asking me favors again,” Shasta shouts to Isaiah as she follows Shaun out of the room. “Don’t you dare bring trouble to my door.”
I count to twenty after Shaun leaves and then excuse myself, so Isaiah and Carter can speak in private.
Carter
“I hate my mom,” Isaiah says. “I hate her so much.”
My gut twists. Isaiah has never bothered to hide how he feels about his mother, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say it so directly. Maybe I should scold him for saying something so awful, but I won’t. Not when he’s already lost so much this year. Not when I have to live with the role I played in that loss. “I don’t blame you.”
He sighs and shifts in bed, grimacing. “Is that hot nurse real
ly your girl?”
Get used to the lie now. “Haven’t you read the papers? Our picture was on the front page of the Jackson Harbor Gazette yesterday.”
He grunts. “No one under the age of sixty reads the newspaper, C. Sorry.”
I laugh. “I guess you’re right.”
“Did she grow up here like you? The nurse?”
“She moved here a few years ago. Her family’s from Virginia, and she went to college with Ethan’s wife, Nic, in Alabama.” I take the cup from his bedside table, refilling the ice as an excuse to stand closer. “You said Jess broke up with you?”
“I’m not talking about it.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
He scowls at me then sighs. “She said she cares about me, but it felt like it was getting serious too fast. Then she was all over Hayden Traelle at the party on Saturday, so obviously she doesn’t care that much.”
Suddenly, Isaiah’s very uncharacteristic decision to drink and drive makes more sense. Nothing excuses it, but I understand a little better now that I know. “That blows. I’m sorry.”
He lifts his chin. “Why? It’s not your fault.”
“I’m still sorry. Broken hearts suck.”
“Preach.” He snags his phone off the bed next to him and starts scrolling.
“I work tonight and tomorrow. You need anything before I go in?” I work twenty-four-hour shifts every three days; he knows how it works.
He shakes his head. “I’m good.”
“Text if you change your mind. Otherwise, I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Got it,” he says, but his attention is already off me and on his phone.
I head out to the nurse’s station to find Teagan.
When I find her sitting right next to Bethany, I freeze. I planned on talking to Beth this morning, but damn if I don’t feel awkward about it seeing her next to Teagan.
After Teagan left Jackson Brews last night, I went to break it off with Myla. Unfortunately, she’d already left. When I texted her this morning, I found out she’s out of town for a conference for the next few days. Even if we were casual, I hated ending things over a text, but I couldn’t risk Myla blowing our cover in front of Teagan’s family when she comes back to town. I told her I was seeing Teagan and we were going to be exclusive. Her response left little doubt in my mind as to how Myla feels about the sudden change to our relationship.
Three words: Wow. Fine then.
After getting that curt response, I was glad I could have the conversation with Beth in person, but now, I’m suddenly dreading it.
“Hey, Carter,” Beth says, flipping her red hair over one shoulder.
Teagan blinks up at me. “Do you know everyone?”
“Beth’s a good friend of mine,” I say. “She used to work at the department with me.”
Beth folds her arms and fights a smile. I know her well enough to know she’s thinking, Yeah, and we fuck on a semi-regular basis.
Teagan shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Beth. I knew that. I swear, I forget what a small world Jackson Harbor is.”
“No worries,” Beth says, her eyes darting back and forth between Teagan and me, as if she can judge the status of our relationship by nothing more than the air between us. “I forget too, believe it or not.”
Her words are heavy with meaning, and I can tell she’s not going to talk about us in front of Teagan, but there is a conversation to be had. I shake my head—later. “Teagan, can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure.” She puts down her pen and swings around the nurse’s station. I fall into step beside her, and she leads the way to an empty room labeled “family comfort area.” Inside, there’s a television, a couch, a couple of chairs, and a shelf stacked with paperbacks and magazines.
“Are you going to get in trouble because of Shasta?”
“Isaiah’s mom?” Teagan grins. “Oh, hell no. Shaun wanted to get her out of the room. I’ll talk to Isaiah’s guardian, and if she agrees, Shasta won’t be allowed on the unit next time she tries to visit.”
“Marta will agree. She’s had enough of Shasta to last her many lifetimes.” I exhale. “He doesn’t need her around while he’s trying to recover.”
“How do you know him?”
“Isaiah is Max Goldright’s son.”
“And Max is . . .” I see the moment the name snaps into place for her. Sympathy casts shadows over her face. “He was on your team at the fire department. He was the one who died at that warehouse.”
The one who died. The one who should still be here raising his son. “Max was raising Isaiah on his own, so Isaiah had to move in with his grandma after . . .” An unwelcome surge of emotion presses down on my chest. I focus on my breath. In and out.
“After Max died,” she finishes for me.
“Marta’s a good woman. She looks after him as best she can, but . . .” I shrug. Teagan’s studying me so intently that I’m afraid she can see right through that shrug and to the shredded heart in my chest. “Seventeen-year-old boys need their dads, and he doesn’t have that.” He’ll never have that.
“I didn’t realize . . .” She bites her bottom lip and studies me again with that burning intensity. “I’m so sorry.”
I roll my shoulders back, but it does nothing to lessen that feeling that she’s seen too much. “It sucks. For all of us, but especially Isaiah.”
The little radio clipped to her scrubs beeps. “Teagan, the mother of the patient in 2B wants to talk to you.”
She presses a button. “Thanks, I’ll be right there.” She drops the radio and cocks her head. “Have you given any more thought to the wedding?”
“Are you afraid I’m going to back out?”
“Not exactly. I just . . .” She studies the sign on the wall that lists the visiting hours and rules. “Did you talk to Myla? Is she okay with it?”
“Myla isn’t my keeper. I don’t need her permission.” I sigh when I realize that doesn’t make Teagan feel better. “I told her that you and I were seeing each other. I promise she won’t get in the way.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that.”
I’m not. I’m a little surprised to realize it’s true. Myla knows I’m not looking for a relationship, but lately, I’ve felt like she’s been hoping for more. I don’t want to lead her on, even unintentionally. Maybe it was time for us to end things. “It’s not a big deal.”
I don’t tell Teagan that I’d do anything to protect her from Rich. I don’t tell her that my few minutes talking to the guy last year was enough to make me grateful she asked for my help. “I work tonight and tomorrow, but I was able to get the rest of the week off.”
“Thanks.” She gives me a shy smile as she pulls the door open. “Then I guess I’ll see you Thursday.”
“I can’t wait,” I say, and I mean it. I’m looking forward to this weekend far more than I should.
Carter
When Teagan is gone, I sink into one of the waiting room couches, lay my head back, and close my eyes. Between my anxiety about the hero worship at the auction, Isaiah’s accident, and everything that’s been going on with Teagan, the past few days have been a rollercoaster. And now I need to talk to Bethany.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it from my pocket.
Unknown Number: You didn’t respond to my text. Does that mean you don’t want to see me?
Shit. I completely forgot about the text from this number yesterday. When I decided it was a wrong number, I put it from my mind. But here she is again.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown Number: Sabrina. Did you never put my number in your phone? I would have done it for you if I hadn’t had to run out to catch my flight.
I blink at the screen until the name snaps into place with flight. Right. Sabrina was the reporter who came to do a story on the stupid viral picture. It was almost a month ago, right after I’d stopped accepting interviews, but she was ballsy enough to come to town and smart enough to catch me at Jackson Brews and pretend she wasn’t a repor
ter. We had a few drinks together, and I took her home. I didn’t even know she was there for a story until the next morning, when she scrambled to ask me some questions so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her boss. I wasn’t thrilled.
I add the name to my contacts in case she decides to text me again.
Me: Hey, how are you? I must have lost the number.
A lie. Once I found out what she’d come to town for, I wanted nothing to do with her. But a harmless lie. No need to tell someone I’ll rarely see that her lie by omission totally turned me off.
Sabrina: Well, good thing you have it now. So . . . this weekend. I get in Friday morning and will be there until Sunday. I’ll be kind of busy with family stuff, but I’m sure I could sneak away for you. I’ve been dying to see you again.
I feel like an ass if that’s true. She’s been thinking about me, and I barely remembered her? Jake’s right. It’s time for me to make some changes. Maybe this thing with Teagan is exactly what I need to kick my ass out of this rut I’ve been in.
Me: I’m flattered, but I’m seeing someone now. I’m sorry.
Sabrina: Is this because I didn’t tell you I was a journalist?
“Is there a reason you’re scowling at your phone?” Bethany asks, sticking her head in the door. “Do you need another minute, or can you talk?”
Shutting off my screen, I sit up and rub my eyes. “I’m fine. Come on in.”
She shuts the door behind her and takes a seat on the couch across from me. “Isaiah’s probably going to get discharged this afternoon.” She shakes her head. “I’m not really supposed to tell you that, but I know you’re worried about him.”
“Is that . . . good? Do you think they’re sending him home too soon?”
She shrugs. “It’s normal. Insurance doesn’t like to pay for any more time in the hospital than necessary, and he’ll be able to rest at home better than he can here anyway.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers. Bethany worked with Max when she was still with the JHFD, and she understands why I’m so protective of Isaiah. “His girlfriend broke up with him.”