“Oh,” Marlene said, pleased. “That explains it.”
“I’m not funny,” I said automatically.
Liam turned to me and really looked at me. “You are. And apparently also self-deprecating.”
It was said simply. No buildup. No joke attached.
I hated that my face heated. I hated that I didn’t immediately deflect like I should have.
Marlene slid a clipboard across the counter before I could recover. “Paperwork first,” she said. “I need this before I treat you.”
“That’s fair,” I said, grateful for the interruption.
I took the pen and focused. Name. Address. Insurance. I was sober enough for this. The cold water and pain had done their job. My head was clear. My body was loud.
Marlene moved around the room, lining up supplies and pulling on gloves. Liam watched her do it, then adjusted the trash bin an inch closer to the table.
“How did you end up working all the way out here?” I asked, mostly to keep my mind occupied.
Marlene smiled without looking up. “I work under Dr. Patel at the hospital downtown, but we set it up so I can run my own practice here.”
“That sounds nice,” I said.
“It is,” she said cheerfully. “I see my regular patients here during the week. Folks who don’t want to trek into town. And Pine Hollow keeps me on as an emergency station for allergic reactions, bad sunburns, and twisted ankles.”
“That last one feels targeted.”
She laughed. “You’d be surprised how often I see it.”
I looked back down at the papers. Emergency contact.
I paused.
My mother was on a long cruise somewhere in the Indian Ocean. We talked when the satellite cooperated, or when she needed something from me. Usually, the second. She was not the type of person who showed up when things went wrong. That had always been me.
Even when I was a kid.
And if she did get called for something medical, she would treat it like an engraved invitation to meddle. She’d unleash her opinions and interpret my boundaries as suggestions.
I was working on not doing that anymore. On not handing her the keys to my life every time something went sideways.
This was not the moment to relapse.
I could put one of the women upstairs. I liked them. That was the problem. Liking people came with expectations. Also, I didn’t have their actual phone numbers. Just years of Slack messages and mutual trauma.
I looked up. Liam was wiping the counter. He stopped when he noticed me watching.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said, which wasn’t true.
I wrote his name, then the number from the card he had handed me earlier.
Emergencies only.
Marlene took the clipboard and raised her brows. “Bold choice.”
“He’s an employee,” I said with a shrug. “Plus, I don’t have anyone else.”
