Girl needs a day off and a bubble bath or something.
“I’m sorry I keep making you cry,” I say.
“Why are you so mean?” she teases, but the jest loses its effect when her voice trembles around the words. More quietly, she adds, “It’s not you. I just don’t like talking about this.”
“Hmm.” I squeeze tight. “Subject change?”
“Yes, please.”
I reach for something else—anythingelse—and come up with, “So was I super awkward when I turned her down?”
Her breathy laughter warms my chest. “No. You were sweet about it, as usual. But the qualifying... Bro, that’s a bad look.”
“Almost as bad asany girl would be lucky to have you, right?”
She smacks my back. “Shut up.” Her pager dings, and she pulls away. “Sorry. I’m supposed to relieve Kevin for lunch.”
“Lunch?” I check my phone. “It’s only ten twenty-four.”
She shrugs and wipes her face. “Rolling lunches. The OR stops for no man.”
“You’re still riding with me to Yayoi’s birthday dinner, yeah?”
She nods.
I touch her soft, soft cheek. “You going to be okay?”
Her grin is forced, but at least it exists. “I always am.”
Yayoi’s birthday is always the one we celebrate the quietest. She doesn’t like big parties or large crowds or attention in general. Honestly, getting her out for an early four-person dinner is about as wild as she’s willing to get.
After abandoning my scrubs for the less comfortable street clothes I brought to work, I head out to the parking lot. Jocelyn is already leaning on my truck, mint-colored dress sifting in the breeze. Wonder if she’s moved past our little blip in the sterile hallway. Should I bring it up? Gloss over it? Let her lead the way?
Her attention is riveted to her phone. Probably planning another hookup. Don’t love the way that feels like fishing hooks between my ribs. Ignore, ignore, ignore.
I parked by the pond. Always do—because ducks. And I’m not disappointed. Three of them are waddling by the shore, eyeing me as I pass.
“I don’t have any snacks today, friends,” I say.
Joss looks up from her phone and frowns at me, then catches sight of the ducks and chuckles, her mischief firmly back in place. “Have you married them yet?”
Ah. So we’re glossing over it, I see. She swings around to the passenger side.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “It was a quiet ceremony. Family only.” The truck unlocks automatically as I pull the handle.
She hops in. “And here I thought I’d be your best man.”
“Ha ha.” The engine roars to life and I slip my wallet from my back pocket—so annoying to sit on it—before doing a double take on her face. “Why are you staring at me?”
“No reason.” She shrugs but doesn’t look away.
Suspicious, I shift the vehicle to Reverse, and the backup camera view pops up on my center display.
A scream rips through my throat. Shrill. Embarrassingly feminine. My heart jumps clean out of my chest.
Amidst the multicolor guidelines, the horrifying image of Samara fromThe Ringemerging from her well glows on the screen.
Jocelyn howls in laughter so hard it’s soundless, and joyous tears sparkle in her eyes. It takes me a few more seconds to verify the image is frozen on the screen and not, in fact, coming to murder me.
