9
“You know,” I say to Gemma, taking a drink of lemonade, “there was a time when I used to feel uneasy when I wasn’t working. Which sounds really pathetic now that I say it out loud.”
“I love not working.” Gemma adjusts her sunglasses and leans back. We’re sitting outside soaking up the sun. I can’t remember the last time I laid out and tried to get tan. High school, maybe? The only swimsuits I own are one piece and far from sexy, and the only reason I own them at all is because I used to swim as part of my workout.
“Though I do love being a nurse. Well, sometimes. The management side of it sucks. Healthcare is all about making money, which is disheartening, really.”
“Most stuff is about money.”
She turns to me, squinting as the sun hits her right in the face. “Have you ever been offered money to let someone off easy?”
“I have.”
“You’ve never taken it, I know that for sure. But were you tempted?”
“No. I moved into homicide fairly quickly, and no amount of money is worth more than a life. To me, at least.”
“If only all people in law enforcement positions thought the same as you.”
I raise my eyebrows and shake my head. “Right? The country would be a much better place than it is already.”
Gemma sighs. “I stopped watching the news last year because it just depressed me. Though I do check BuzzFeed pretty much daily. They have some uplifting stuff every now and then.”
I laugh and finish my lemonade. I’m already hot and know my ass is going to stick to this plastic lounge chair when I get up. I get wanting to have a tan, but how can people do this for hours? Being hot and sweaty aside, I’m going to get bored.
Which only goes to show how much I need to do this. I’m not good at relaxing.
“What made you want to go into nursing?” I ask.
“I like taking care of people,” Gemma says. “I wanted to be a doctor for a while, but there was no way I could have afforded that much schooling, and the sooner I could get a job and move away from Crazy Town the better.”
“Oh, right.” After Gemma’s parents died in a car crash, she was sent to live with her Amish aunt and uncle. “I don’t blame you there. They didn’t want you to go to college, did they?”
“Oh hell no. Sinners and sluts went to college.” She shudders, and I know it’s not from being cold. A few minutes of silence pass us by. “What else is out here?” Gemma asks, sitting up. A slight breeze blows against my skin and it feels amazing.
“Some outbuildings that are all pretty run-down. And then woods. As far as I know, there’s nothing in them.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
I shrug. “The guys have been all over them and haven’t said anything. But no, I haven’t explored them.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Want to?”
“Now? It’s hotter than hell out here.”
“Oh, come on, the woods will be a good ten degrees cooler from the shade.”
“Really?”
She gives me a look. “You’re not very outdoorsy, are you?”
“I mean, in the sense that I like to run outside, yes. But I don’t go hiking or camping.”
“You should. I have a feeling becoming more in tune with nature—or being a survivalist—could be useful one day.”
“You’re probably right. I didn’t really think about it in that sense.”
“So, want to go exploring?”
