“Do you have mine?” Carter asked, kindness coating his voice, more than the flirtatiousness he’d demonstrated earlier.
“Yes.” As I started to walk to give it to him, the woman held out her hand across the bed to receive it.
She gave him the bottle as she explained. “Sorry about my tone, you know how I worry.” Then she bent to peck Carter’s lips.
A low rumble of disappointment settled in the pit of my stomach at her display of possessive affection while I flushed Sekani’s IV with a needle before I finished setting up his bag. “Two bags, okay? If you need to use the restroom, have your parents help you out of bed. I’ll be back once I have the X-ray results. Buzz if you need anything.” I only gave Sekani direct eye contact and barely acknowledged the couple before leaving the room, hating the wave of hope that had been erased in a matter of seconds.
“His woman, Sekani’s mother, is here,” I whispered at Denise’s questioning gaze.
She frowned. “So, they broke up a while ago, according to the media.”
“Not from what I can tell.” My cell buzzed, and I eased it out of my top pocket.
You have every right to still be angry. Can we please talk?
“Hell, no,” I exclaimed without thought.
“Asshole again?”
“Yep. Still don’t want to talk about it. Three years, and now he keeps bothering me.” The humiliation and rageful hurt of the last time I saw him inflamed my chest. I grabbed a chart. “Got two more hours and I’m out. I don’t care who else calls out, I need to sleep, and the hospital beds aren’t cutting it.”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll handle the rest of this shift. Dr. Noto should also be here within an hour.” She typed in a note on her keypad. “Want to grab a late dinner or cocktails tomorrow night since you’re off?”
“Naw. I’m exhausted. Need to prep for Thanksgiving dinner with Mama and Auntie Max, who’s in town anyway. Maybe a Happy Hour next week?” I tapped the counter, shook off the flood of emotions from the interaction with Carter and then my ex, and continued making rounds.
I needed the quick reminder that men brought more drama than peace. And the turtle slid back in her shell.
After another tense moment with Sekani’s mother, as I told the St. Patrick family that it was indeed a sprain and how totreat it at home, and checking on my other patients, I headed to the cafeteria. I sank into a chair near a window, used my arms as a pillow, and closed my eyes. A little bit longer and I’m out. My brief chemistry buzz with Carter quickly fizzled once Sekani’s mother arrived. Clearly, she either picked up the vibe between her man and me, or she knew her man’s wandering eye. The dullness of my head mirrored my heart. Why would I get my hopes up for an ex-NFL player just because he spoke to me? Or maybe my ex reaching out to me over the last three months fucked with my self-confidence more than I realized?
My cell rang. With closed eyes, I reached down in my scrub pocket and pulled out my phone, hoping I didn’t have to block my ex.
Mama.
I propped the phone against my ear, with my head still on the table.
“Guess what, Brookie Cookie?”
“Mama, I’m way too old for that nickname.”
“Never too old.” She shushed me as she always did. “Your Auntie found us a cheap flight to a spa in Vegas for Thanksgiving. We have to leave tonight for the deal, and we’re there until Monday. Can you get away?”
I popped up. “Vegas? Mama, you know I can’t. I’m only off tomorrow and Thanksgiving.” This was when I hated being an only child of a single mother and a father who preferred his new wife to his daughter, which meant holidays were often small or nonexistent. “I thought we were going grocery shopping tomorrow and having a quiet dinner for Thanksgiving.
Mama huffed, “Call in like every other person does, and let’s have fun in Vegas. I’m sick and tired of turkey and dressing.”
“You know I can’t. Not during holidays. We can get fired or at least written up.”
“How did I raise a daughter who always follows the rules?”
“Because I have a mother who doesn’t,” I muttered.
“Damn right.” She cackled. “And who has more fun?”
I didn’t bother to answer because she lived the life of a much younger woman. My mother had a busy dating life, took trips on a whim, and loved to bar hop. Usually on my dime because she’d sacrificed so much for me to get to this level. “Guess, I’ll take on an extra shift since I won’t have any plans. I’m sure someone wants to be with their family on Thanksgiving since mine don’t. Might as well earn some extra money and favor by working.”
“Or you can get a life. Don’t make me feel guilty because I want to enjoy mine. I did invite you,” Mama replied crossly. “You don’t need the money, Brooklyn, and they need you too much to fire you if you call off. As long as you allow it, they’ll keep demanding more and more of you until you break.”
“Um...Ma, they're paging me. I got to run.” I quickly clicked off the cell. Her tone meant a long lecture about how my life had become a cliché of all work and no play. She didn’t understand that I wasn’t her. I loved my job, and I didn’t attract men simply by existing as she did. At heart, I was a proud, introverted nerd who preferred a quiet night at home, curled up with a book or watching a football game on TV, over a night out on the town, especially after my last disastrous relationship. Solitude and peace had become my new best friends.
