Which means I’m helping…
Camden laughs. “Quit your bellyaching and help me strap this down,” he says, tossing me the hooked end on his strap so I can secure it to the trailer. The insulation is already loaded in the bed of his truck, and as soon as we finish securing the load on the trailer, we’ll head back to his place and unload inside the garage.
Just as he tightens down both straps, his phone rings. “Hey, big sister,” he answers, catching my attention.
I haven’t seen or talked to Charli since the meal we shared after my massage. I paid the tab, and she covered the tip, as she said she would. It was an enjoyable late lunch that was over way too quickly for my liking, but it wasn’t a date. It was me feeding her after she didn’t have time to stop and eat during her workday.
“Uhh, yeah. I can do that. I just gotta run home and drop the trailer.” He listens for a moment before adding, “No, don’t do that. I got you, sister. See you in a bit.”
When he hangs up the phone, I just watch him, waiting. Finally, he tells me what the call was about. “Charli’s sick. She went to see Dr. Houston this afternoon. She’s got a sinus infection, ear infection, and the start of an upper respiratory infection. He prescribed her some meds, but the pharmacy was backed up and Sommer was off today and they weren’t ready yet. She asked if I could stop by and grab them for her.”
“I can do it,” I suggest without even thinking.
He just pins me with a knowing look.
“It would make things easier. You’ve got the trailer, and we both know that thing’s a bitch to get in and out of the pharmacy lot. I’m in my work truck so I can stop by, grab her stuff, drop it off at her house, and be over to your place in time to help you unload.”
He exhales loudly, knowing my idea is better and more efficient than his. But he’d do his idea—run home, drop the trailer, and head back to the pharmacy—in a heartbeat just because she needs him. “Makes sense. Grab pizza on your way back though.”
I snort and pull my keys from my pocket. “Of course.”
“Oh, and grab her some Gatorade or something too.”
“Done,” I reply, trying to contain my anxiousness at getting what Charli needs and over to her as soon as possible.
“Want me to call in the pizza?”
“Sure,” I reply, turning and heading for my truck, which is parked across the lot. “Give me thirty minutes, just in case the pharmacy is still busy.”
“Yep,” he hollers.
I climb into my truck and start the engine, glancing back to where he’s parked and finding him on the phone. He’s most likely calling in our dinner order before he gets on the road and sidetracked. That leaves me with thirty minutes to pick up what Charli needs and drop it off—checking on her in the process. I hate the thought of her being sick but love the idea of getting to take care of her, even for only a few moments.
Placing a quick call to the diner, I head for the pharmacy with my mental shopping list.
My time might be limited, but I’m going to make the most of it. I find a parking spot on the street, halfway between the diner and the small pharmacy. Climbing from my truck cab, I keep my pace clipped until I reach the old glass door for Feldman’s Pharmacy and give it a tug.
“Hello, Quinn!” Mrs. Feldman hollers from the front counter, where she’s worked since she and her husband purchased the pharmacy before I was born.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Feldman,” I greet, grabbing a shopping basket and heading for the over-the-counter medicine aisle.
I grab everything I think she might need without knowing what she might or might not have. Kleenex, cough drops, pain reliever, cold and flu medicine, and even some nasal saline. Then, I head for the coolers and fill the basket with Gatorade. I know for a fact Charli likes the grape flavor, so I buy all five bottles they have in stock.
Finally, I make my way to the back of the pharmacy and get in line. There are only two customers in front of me, but since Jerry Feldman is the sole employee behind the pharmacy counter, I know it’ll take a few extra minutes for me to reach the front of the line. I scroll through my phone just so I don’t have to chat with anyone else, which might be rude, but all I want to do is secure her medicine and get it to her house. I hate the thought of her not being able to grab it earlier before she went home to rest.
When I reach the front of the line, Jerry gives me a toothy grin. “Hey, Quinn. Dropping off?” he asks, probably mentally running through the prescriptions he’s received and coming up empty for my name.
“Actually, I’m here to get Charli Miller’s prescriptions.”
“Oh, yes. Charlotte,” he says, spinning around to collect her bag. “Two today, an antibiotic and also a steroid. Do you want me to run through the instructions?” he offers, like he does with every prescription he fills.
“No, thank you.”
He nods, scanning the barcodes. “Any questions?”
“Not today, Jerry.”
“Want me to ring up the rest of your items?”
