“Relax,” Devon said, putting a hand up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I just thought it would be fun to ask you about.”
To Devon’s credit, she did seem genuinely apologetic about it. In her spot, I probably would have wanted to know how the night went as well.
But the bigger concern was the fact that I had reacted so negatively to someone else learning the news. What did it say that as soon as Devon had made mention of it, I was trying to rationalize and justify why I was out with Michael? I’d gone on... it wasn’t even a date, really, at least not as determined beforehand.
God, this is confusing.
Maybe this was a sign that I needed to back off. I had let myself fall a bit for his charm—okay, I’d let myself fall a lot for his charm. Now that I was sobering up a bit and realizing how I was telling it to other people, though, I had to recognize the best thing to do wasn’t to continue with Michal but to back away before we got too deep.
It would suck because, on the surface, he was a great guy, but it wasn’t wrong to think that if I, well, yes, dated a biker, I was also kind of dating his entire club. Certainly, the rest of the club did not have the same ease of character that Michael did.
And if ever there was a faster way to feel like I was shitting on the memory of my sister and the lesson her death had given me…
“You’re good,” I said, but I had thoughts swirling in my head that made it hard for me to sustain any further conversation with Devon.
Thankfully, she got called away to one of the rooms. She told me to talk to her if I had any questions, and I thanked her and said I would.
But how the hell did she know?
There were only three people in the bar beside us—the bartender and the two Fallen Saints. I had never seen the bartender in my life, and I had my doubts that she knew who I was or who Devon was. I had never seen Devon mention that she had spent time with a bartender friend, and even if she did, I doubted that I made a strong enough impression on the bartender to be discussed between then and now.
So, the Fallen Saints...
Was Devon working with them?
The question seemed too ridiculous to consider, but it was something that at least needed to be broached at some point.
And what does it mean for you seeing Michael? Don’t you think being with him will make you a target for Devon and the Saints?
I shuddered. I was going all on conjecture, of course, but...
“Kaitlyn Meade, please report to room two-fifteen,” the PA announcer said.
The voice shook me from my thoughts long enough that I got fully dressed for my shift and headed for the second floor. I fell into something of a flow, able to think about the last twelve hours only in brief spurts and having to spend my time with patients. But in those brief moments of quiet and transition, all I could consider was how maybe being with Michael wasn’t just a bad idea for me—it might have been a dangerous one for everyone in my life.
* * *
When the end of my shift came, I grabbed my phone and headed straight for my car. I had decided this was going to end.
I was going to call Michael and admit there were, yes, romantic feelings, but that for the sake of our safety, I had to squash them. I had to tell him that while I wouldn’t work with him, I would inform him that I suspected one of the nurses was working for the Fallen Saints.
I wasn’t giving him Devon’s name, though. If Devon was working for them, then that was a situation of need, not of want. No one could have possibly chosen to work for the Saints if they could have helped it.
I pulled up his number, entered into my phone from a break in the pool game, and hovered over it. Ending something that had potential was never easy, even when it came to something that was barely budding. But it had to be done.
My thumb reached down.
And then someone called me, turning my screen black with two options “Answer” or “Ignore.”
It took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was actually Michael. He had beaten me by about two seconds. I took a breath and told myself that I ought to give him the space to say whatever he needed to, but that I was going to remain firm on ending this now. I had to call it out for what it was and nip it in the bud.
“Hello?” I said.
“Kaitlyn, it’s Michael, what’s good?”
“Not much, just wrapped up my shift. You have impeccable timing, you know.”
“Hah, I’ve been told that before.”
