“Suit yourself.” He found bowls he’d never used before and handed one over. While she filled it with water, he asked, “Why haven’t you had a full week off in so long?”
“There is a shortage of nurses all over the US. I get assignments. Six months to a year. I’ve got two weeks left on this contract and took a week to see my grandmother. I’ll go back and finish my last two weeks and decide where to go next. Most times I take a few weeks in between for myself, since I’ve got to pack up and move. That’s not really a vacation.”
“No,” he said.
She had to be making decent money. He wasn’t sure why she didn’t just hire moving companies to do those things.
Not for him to ask either.
Many would call him spoiled, and he wouldn’t deny it.
“I’m sure you vacation all the time if you’ve got this place to come to.” Once the meat was thawing in water, she filled the container for the coffee machine West had. “Do you mind if I have a coffee?”
“Help yourself,” he said. “I’ll have one with you. Really, take or eat what you want. I don’t want to keep asking you. My guess is we’ll be here a few days before things clear enough for us to get off the mountain, even if the airport opens. You’re good with your supplies?”
She smiled at him. A soft one. Tender even.
Now that they weren’t around thousands of people, he could really look at her.
Dark blue eyes, brown hair pulled away from her face. Her shirt was purple and fit her well. Wasn’t skin tight, but hugged her body and was tucked into a pair of loose jeans.
When she’d turned, he saw the outline of her CGM on the back of her arm. Damon used to wear it there too. He couldn’t see her pump, but guessed it was on her thigh under her baggy jeans.
“I am,” she said. “I should put my extra insulin in the fridge. I can’t believe I didn’t think to do it. I’ve got it in a small, insulated bag.”
He walked over to get her supply bag that caused so much stress and set it on the large island in the kitchen.
She was staring at the coffee machine. “Do you want me to make it?”
“Phew,” she said, swiping a finger across her forehead. “Can you show me? I don’t want to break it, but it’s beyond anything I’ve used before.”
“It’s not that hard but takes getting used to.”
She opened her bag and pulled out an insulated pouch holding two boxes of insulin pens and put them in the fridge. He’d seen the other supplies in there. Pods for her pump and then extra sensors for her CGM.
He worried less that she would run out while they were here.
He made their coffee and handed a mug to her.
“Thanks.” She put in two of the tiny creamers, stirred it with a spoon she’d pulled out of a drawer and took a sip. “This hits the spot. What a day.”
“Tell me about it,” he said. “Sorry if what there is to eat here might not be good for you.”
She laughed. “I can eat what I want as long as I counter it with the right amount of insulin.”
“I know that,” he said. “Damon always ate everything we did. Sometimes it made me laugh at the amount of candy he consumed.”
He’d seen a large bag of gummy bears in her supply bag along with some of those little mini treat packets she’d eaten earlier.
Guess she was well prepared for anything.
His mother would be impressed.
Damn, where did that thought come from?
“People always give me crap about that. They confuse type 1 and type 2. I don’t correct them if they are nasty with comments. I’m glad you understand. Not that I plan on needing medical assistance, but it’s nice to not have to explain it to someone you’re trapped with.” She smirked at him.
“I’m not so sure anyone would consider staying here being trapped.”
