But Logan dealt with most production and operations anyway and just kept him in the loop.
His job was running the rest and being creative because he refused to give that up.
He was networking and designing boards. It was how he got into this.
“Both,” he said. “She’s working three thirteen-hour shifts. Twenty minutes from the house. She’ll leave at seven.”
“You’re here around then,” Logan said.
“Yes. So we’ve got mornings together.” Which he was looking forward to like they’d had in the cabin. Breakfast and conversation together before they started their day. “She’ll get home between eight thirty and nine, depending on when patients are gone.”
“You don’t get home until seven half the time,” Logan said.
“Dude, I didn’t know you knew so much about me.”
Logan smirked. “It’s because I’m working the same hours as you.”
He laughed. “True. But she’ll be home at two thirty on Wednesday, then off Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.
“Those are great hours for a nurse.”
“That’s what she said.”
But he knew she wasn’t making the same money. He didn’t want her worrying about that either and pointed out it wasn’t a concern.
She caught herself from growling at him. The last thing he wanted was her to not be herself but knew they’d butt heads on that part.
He wasn’t giving in regardless of his best friend telling him he hated controversy.
It wasn’t really true. He fought plenty with his siblings growing up.
But as his mother pointed out, he did it to be sent to his room and have some peace and quiet.
Guess he didn’t realize how much of a wuss he was.
“Then it’s working out,” Logan said.
“So far.”
He was thrilled she’d brought home a few items for the house. She’d been surprised by his lack of decor, but he had surfboards on the walls downstairs.
Upstairs he had some artwork, but not much.
He was simple and uncluttered because so much of his life was cluttered as a child.
Too many people in small spaces.
“Does she surf?” Logan asked.
“No. But she wants to learn.” He hadn’t shared information about Saylor’s health. She had her sensor on the back of her arm. If she came in a fitted T-shirt like he’d seen on her, it was going to be noticed anyway. Might as well give him a heads up. “She’s a type 1 diabetic.”
“How come I’m hearing this now?” Logan asked.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“You always had a soft spot for Damon in college.”
“No, I didn’t,” he argued. “We all got along with him.”
