“Because the hospital is short-staff and I’m unattached with no... children.” I hesitated on that part, the deep cut of the memory of what I wanted so deeply. I took a moment to collect myself; I had a rule for myself to never cry at work, I saved that for the car.
“Yes, but why? You are more than just a “fill-in”, Mia. A bright woman like you. A proud woman, what’s going on?” She kept questioning. And I knew she meant well, but it was unsettling. I needed to keep my walls up, no matter how much I felt like I could drop at a hat. I even had a temptation to stick an I.V. in and make sure I wasn’t getting dehydrated.
After I didn’t answer for a while, she sighed with a slight disappointment in the release. “You know you could always come to me. I can’t lose one of my favorites when she’s running herself to the grave.”
I laughed. “You mean run myself to the ground.”
Her playful serious tone came back. “I know what I said.” She lightly patted my shoulder and went on her merry way.
There was a weight still on my chest that wasn’t going away. The combination of feeling like I was worrying people and being tired that I almost canceled on Shooter. Though a shiver went down my spine thinking how Shooter would be very angry and I wouldn’t put it past him to come hunt me down.Literally.
For once, he was listening to me, and it was making it easier for me to come after work than dread for what kind of broody mood he was in. I knew he was itching to do more and speed up his recovery. And maybe that’s what I needed him to do.
Maybe kissing him wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe he was listening to me. He just made it easier to let go for a second. I found it weird that when I’d arrive, there was usually foodwaiting for me and some water. I joked around asking if some of the girls from work told him that I wasn’t drinking a lot of water or barely eating at work. He’d look at me and say, “I just know, peaches.”
Peaches.
The nickname should have turned me off, but the way he said it with a seductive tone, it just made me feel warm and fuzzy. I chalked it up to the lack of sleep and basic pleasure need.
By the time I left the hospital, I had one goal in mind before my long weekend, survive another session with Shooter. I rarely knocked on his door, because part of me didn’t care if he had someone in there. The other half to that was I was willing to drag a bitch out of the room by her extensions.
I passed along Otis and Stray, andthey nodded in my direction before returning to a conversation that I knew I didn’t want to be a part of.
“All right grumpy, time to get to work,” I announced, swinging the door open.
Shooter sat up, closing some type of notebook, grinning at me. Someone was in a good mood. A second look at him in a basic shirt that outlined all the upper muscles depicting a titan was amongst us mortals. I had to snap out of it before one more flash of grin would make me a puddle on the floor. His darkened eyes, and chiseled features should be illegal.
I cleared my throat. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like I’m alive? Thanks, evil nurse, you haven’t killed me yet.”
“There’s still time.” I tossed my bag to the ground, leaning over into my bag. “I think it’s time we take a longer walk with the crutches. You still shouldn’t be putting any weight on it but you…”
“You should eat,” he interrupted.
I shot up. “I will later.” I crossed my arms across my chest. His eyes darted towards the desk; I followed his gaze to find a plateof food including a turkey and provolone sandwich that made my stomach groan in hunger. I shook my head, not wanting to give in… again.“No, seriously, Shooter, I’m fine. Let’s just get started. The sooner we start the sooner I’m out of your hair. We’re closing in on two weeks since your injury. I need to get you to walk more.”
“Oh, happy day, just what I wanted,” he said sarcastically as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. His tone was full of annoyance, like we were deviating away from his plan or something. I thought we had been making some progress, moving past banter into some conversation. He was doing better with handling adjustments to daily tasks.
I huffed. “I can leave your ass. Whatever tone you think you want to have with me, ain’t going to cut it.” Anger and exhaustion, not a good combination.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? Are you serious?” I kept looking at the sandwich that was taunting me. “Please let’s just get to work.” I took a few steps and felt a tad dizzy but snapped out of it.
“You can barely stand up.”
“I’m fine.” I grumbled.
“Fine is fucking dumb word to mask what’s going on with you.” His tone grew serious.
“And you’re a stubborn ass,” I snapped back. I took another step closer to him to reach for him to stand up but my body decided to take another direction.
Strong hands caught me in time before falling backward. With one hard pull, I landed smack against Shooter’s rock-solid chest, crashing us back down on his bed. He was warm and smelled like fresh laundry on a sunny day.
“I’ll ask again, what’s wrong with you, peaches.” he asked again, the vibrations from his chest tickled my body that was still being held against him.
It wasn’t turning out to be a productive session. I just shook my head. “Haven't you ever heard of exhaustion?” I tried to play it off, pushing away from him. But he didn’t let go; with a powerful push he adjusted us in a comfortable position. He twisted me to lay on my side, facing him, while he laid a possessive arm around my waist.
