Irene huffed and tore a stapled set of papers from her clipboard, shoving them at Lynnette. “Your schedule’s been changed. I need you on the east side today, probably for the entire week. They’re short-handed.”
Lynnette nearly fumbled the stupid papers.She could have emailed these.But Irene was so resistant to advancing technology invading her workspace, she ought to have been two decades older than she was. Then Irene’s words penetrated Lynnette’s brain and her eyes flew wide. “The east side? No, that’s—”
Irene raised a hand, waving off Lynnette’s argument before it could form. “It’s decided. Do your job or go home and let someone more willing step up, but know that’ll be a mark against you.” She narrowed her eyes in challenge.
Lynnette bit her tongue before she could get herself in trouble. Again. It didn’t matter that someone else had come to an understanding, or that someone else had made promises. Irene obviously didn’t consider herself beholden to those words.We’ll see about that.“I’ll head right over, then,” she said instead, not bothering to force a gentler, warmer tone into her voice. “Is there anything else?”
Irene turned. “No. Get going.”
Just mask up and get through it, Lynnette.She’d endured worse. Even if she was stuck there the entire week, she would survive. Hell, Doctor Bishop wasn’t even guaranteed to be working the same hours or same floor as she was. All she really had to do was avoid one asshole for a few days.
Klamath Community Hospital was large enough that it took Lynnette a couple of minutes to get around to her new, and temporary, station. She was familiar with a few of the nurses who worked the east side, of course. Not everyone staunchly adhered to one area over another.
Not everyone was walking a razor wire in the interest of keeping themselves gainfully employed and not embroiled in a lengthy, pain in the ass, money-draining lawsuit.
“Lynnette? I thought you were allergic to early morning sunshine,” the nurse at the desk said, a laugh lightening herwords as the aforementioned sunlight spilled in through the high hall windows.
Lynnette slid her cumbersome paperwork over the desktop. “Irene says I’m working here for a bit. I guess you’re short-handed?”
Neon pink nails coated in bright gold sparkles hovered over the dangling papers as her colleague blinked up at her. “I, uh, I didn’t think we were…” She cut her eyes to the computer screen and tapped a couple of keys while finally snatching the papers.
Lynnette pursed her lips.
The nursing receptionist let out a hum, tapped her nails on the edge of her keyboard, and looked over the papers. Then, finally, she said, “So, Chandie’s on vacation until next week. Her first shift is Wednesday, it looks like.”
Lynnette raised a brow in defiance of her sinking gut. “So?” Did she really even know Chandie? She was pretty sure that was a nickname, but she wasn’t sure for what.
“Looks like you’re covering her schedule.”
Lynnette blinked. Slowly at first, then harder. Her hand curled into a fist. “Are you telling me I’m expected to work under Bishop until freakingWednesday?”
“I don’t really know your history with Doctor Bishop,” her poor, uncomfortable colleague said, “but he’s on a rotating schedule with three other surgeons.” She paused and lowered her voice. “I can compare your specific schedules if you like. I’m probably not supposed to, but he’s why you never come over here, isn’t he?”
Lynnette nodded. “Yes. Please, if you can.” Even if it was bad news, it paid to be prepared. That was what her father had always said.
They fell into silence for a full minute, sparkly pink nails flying over the keyboard while tension built in Lynnette’s stomach like curdled milk.
Then, finally, her new favorite coworker looked up. The sympathy in her eyes was answer enough. “It might be easier to tell you which shiftsdon’toverlap. I’m so sorry.”
Fuck.
Lynnette straightened. “I’ll just assume it’s all of them, then. Easier to brace myself that way. Where am I off to now?” She needed to get to work, to make herself useful, and to lose herself in someone else’s problems for a while. If she had any luck at all, her patient load would be uncomplicated enough that she wouldn’t need to seek out the presiding doctor unnecessarily.
“Oh, this is some fancy shit,” Lance said, letting a teasing grin split his face when the bucket of colorful crafting supplies was set beside him.
His longtime buddy and fellow forcibly discharged Marine, Jon Johnson, grunted at the joke and dropped to a crouch. “It’s what they had. Unless you want to use something of yours?”
Lance dipped his hand into the tub and pulled up the first faux silk silver ribbon he could grab. “This’ll do fine, thanks. I’ll even leave the sewing kit for you if you’ll answer just one teensy tiny question.”
Jon went for the twine. “No.”
Lance chuckled and reached for the nearest unconscious idiot. The last thing he’d expected when he’d volunteered to tag along with Jon to Jon’s little hometown in nowhere-Oregon was that they’d walk up on a burglary in progress almost as soon as they were off the bus. Hanging out with Jon was always fun.
Jon set to work tying up the other unconscious idiot, jaw tight, an air of frustration emanating off him.
Lance grabbed a second, different colored ribbon to tie with the first, because of course a cutesy bakery in a small town didn’t carry zip ties, and casually asked, “So, was thattheJenna?”
“I said no.”
