“I will.”
Austin stands up and circles around before spotting whatever it is he’s looking for. He snags a piece of notepaper and removes a pen from his pocket. “This town is small. We all help each other out around here, so if you really need anything, you can give me a call, okay?” He hands me the piece of paper with his number on it, and I’m probably giving him a look like he’s crazy because that’s sort of what I’m thinking. We just met, and nurses don’t give their numbers out to patients like this.
“Are you seriously giving me your phone number? Couldn’t you get fired for this? Like … isn’t there some kind of ethical code against giving your personal number to a patient?”
He smiles. “We’re in Blytheville, land of the olden days. Doctors and nurses still make house visits in this town. So yeah … ”
“What a welcome this has been,” I tell him with a fake burst of enthusiasm.
“Hang in there.” He places his hand on my shoulder again, and this time I feel the warmth of his hand seep through the thin material of my t-shirt. I’m vulnerable. I’ve been here less than a day. Ignore the white smile against his tanned scruff.Go away, hot nurse. I don’t need you or your Southern charm.
“Well, we know my arm is hanging in there, literally,” I say, pointing to the sling, “so don’t worry about me.”
“Good one,” he says, pointing at me with a wink.
Ugh. “I try.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says.
“You live here?” I ask.
“No, I work here … ”
“All day, every day?”
“Pretty much.”
“Fun.”
“It hasn’t been so bad today,” he says, leaving me, and taking the last word with him.
