“The other Marine.”
“Yep. He’s Johnson, I’m Blackburn.”
The impatient nurse tapped him on his outer shoulder even as a disembodied voice summoning Doctor Garland echoed down the halls and into Lance’s room through the door the nurse had left open. There was no way the Army guy hadn’t heard it.
“Well, heal up, Blackburn,” Alex said, before promptly disconnecting.
Lance chuckled briefly and stretched out his arm to set the phone on the nearest side table. “Don’t be grumpy with me because you’re early,” he said to the nurse, “I was told it was okay to use the phone.”
“Look, I don’t care if you’re not hungry,” the nurse returned, “but I have to take your vitals, too. Can’t have you on the phone for that. Hold out your arm. Also, the doctor wants an update on your pain level.”
Lance did his best to keep his expression neutral as he complied. The man did not have Lynn’s gentle touch, or warm bedside manner. To be fair, she was going to be a hard act to follow for anyone. But she probably wouldn’t appreciate if he was an asshole to all her colleagues, so he resolved to at least not be their worst patient of the night.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss Lynnette in the meantime.
Lynnette dropped onto her bed, fresh from the shower and still too full of aggressive energy. Even the detour she’d taken afterwork to a local gym that let her beat the hell out of their punching bags hadn’t drained the anger. That, and the overly indulgent diner meal she’d grabbed for dinner, had left her a strange combination of physically drained and psychologically amped.
She still wanted to scream.
She also wanted to roll over and sleep for a week.
If I sleep for a week, I might get fired.
The thought wasn’t without its appeal. She didn’t particularly want that stain on her record, but she was coming to hate the environment at Klamath Community Hospital more than she appreciated the pay. Likely that was due to the growing number of people in supervisory positions who looked down their nose at her or worse, actually attempted to abuse her and thought they could threaten her into silence.
Lynnette forced out a hard breath, pushing thoughts of Gavin Bishop and his unwanted advances to the back of her mind. He wasn’t her sole problem. And, really, thatwasthe problem.
The nurse in charge of the east unit in their department, a hard-faced woman with frazzled hair that had looked shoved up and out of the way, had made it clear that they would not be “further involving” the patient in the “dispute” between Lynnette and Claire. As if it were Lynnette who’d caused the issue. She’d taken the crimped IV line and Lynnette’s complaint and declared that she could take no side in a matter she had not witnessed. Instead, her solution was to “put distance” between the women.
That meant rearranging Lynnette’s new schedule. And so, her long Tuesday had been shortened by several hours. Her free Wednesday became a partial workday. Her Thursday hours altered. Apparently, Claire had Friday off, so Lynnette’s Friday was untouched.
It didn’t exactly feel balanced and fair. Particularly since Lynnette was suddenly working nine days in a row without relief. But the nurse brushed that concern aside and instructed her to “move forward.”
Lynnette had no way to know if Claire would be spoken to, if Claire’s hours would also be altered, or if this odd punishment was strictly on her. And it pissed her off. If it weren’t entirely unethical and potentially damaging to the patient, she’d be happy to stand back and let Claire’s vanity do its own damagemoving forward.
But the next patient might be more dependent on their IV line. The next time it might be something more critical. And Lynnette wouldn’t forgive herself if she had knowingly allowed some innocent third party to come to harm just because she wanted to see the wrongdoer forced to face consequences.
Lynnette heaved another hard breath and shoved up. It wasn’t really late enough for a woman in her early thirties to turn in, but she was tired and she did not feel like socializing. A thought which immediately made her cringe. She really needed to reach out to Jenna and see how her friend was doing, what with all that had gone on at the bakery.
She made herself a mental note to text Jenna in the morning—they were both early risers, anyway—and see about meeting up sometime after she clocked off again. Then she ran a comb through her still-damp hair, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed. The hour didn’t matter. Sleep mattered.
Sweet, blessed sleep where her overworked bones could rest.
“Why don’t you take a load off and chat with me a bit?” Lance suggested, that grin still plastered to his lips as he patted the edge of his bed. “I won’t bite.” There was a gleam in his eyes that told her he might, actually.
She refused. But the temptation was there, burning beneath her skin.
Lynnette’s eyes snapped open and she gasped out loud, shoving upright. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Had she drifted off so quickly, or— No, that had really happened. When she’d gone in to check on him near the end of her shift. It was a memory. A shameful one.
What was it about Lance Blackburn that lingered in her mind so insistently?
It doesn’t matter.He was her patient. He wasn’t even local. He literally had one emergency contact, and that contact had only a phone number. Neither of them had an address. It was entirely probable that Lance Blackburn would disappear from her life, the way most of her patients did, the moment he was released.
Something burned in her chest as she lowered herself back to her bed. Lance was … Lance was someone she might have liked to know, outside of work.
It was a shame they hadn’t met that way.
She shut that thought out, too, and rolled onto her side. Any attraction she felt was just a stupid, inappropriate, surface thing. It would fade. She was mature and responsible enough not to be dumb about it. Even if she did like the way he smiled at her.
