I feel for Leo, more than I want to admit.
The crush is easy. Liking him is complicated.
“Well, maybe—” I start, but we’re interrupted by another call.
Easton jumps up before I can react, and he runs off as I climb off the couch and ready myself for what’s probably the start of a busy night.
In spite of finally getting a few hours’ shut-eye after two in the morning, I still feel a little hazy as I make my way out to my truck. We had several calls, and when things quieted down andinsomnia struck, I spent hours in the kitchen, putting together two weeks’ worth of meals for Easton to bring to Leo.
Outside, my heart sinks a bit when I realize Russell isn’t waiting for me, but he’s never had trouble finding home, so I doubt it’ll be long before he’s on my porch, crying to be let inside.
I stop by the coffee kiosk on the drive and get an herbal tea in a sorry attempt to soothe my nerves. It has been a long fucking night with a lot of terrible calls, and the weight of losing two people before the ambulance could arrive is heavy on my chest.
There are moments I’m used to death, and I can shut off the discomfort. And then there are moments I take it through my front door and say a prayer no one tries to call me because I have no patience and no space for anyone else’s problems.
Today seems like option two.
It’s another reason I don’t know if this job is for me. I’m strong, but I’m also tired of being strong. I’ve had to build up thick skin from such a young age, and god, I’m just…
Tired.
Kicking off my shoes, I take a sip of my tea and grimace. It’s bitter from being oversteeped, and whatever brand they use sucks. But I choke down several mouthfuls as I peel off my jeans and T-shirt and slide into the softest sweats I own.
It’s still summer, but the one thing I splurge on is my power bill, which allows me to blast the AC until it feels fucking arctic. There’s nothing better than a freezing cold room and a heavy quilt while the sun burns outside.
It’s been a weirdly hot summer too, which I don’t love. There hasn’t been enough rain, the humidity has been fucking killer, and it feels like there’s no end in sight.
I can’t help but wonder if this is a sign I need to get the fuck out of here. I’m miserable at my job, I have a raging, hornycrush on a guy who can’t stand the sight of me, and my family doesn’t need me anymore, which?—
“North! Help. I’m literally dying!”
At the sound of my sister’s panicked voice, I dart out of my bed without thinking, trying to remember where my kit is as I skid to a halt near the living room. I’m expecting to see Meadow covered in blood, limbs barely hanging off her body. Who the fuck knows what else.
I should have known better.
She’s leaning against the wall near the front door with a gigantic iced coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Her sunglasses are pushing her hair back away from her face, and I can see mascara slightly smeared under her eyes because she’s been crying.
But she’s definitely not injured, and she’snotliterally dying.
“You’re about tobedead if this isn’t an actual emergency,” I tell her, folding my arms and trying to control my breathing. “I just got home from a seventy-two-hour shift.”
She rolls her eyes. “Will you go over to Zeke’s and tell that fuck-ass barista that he’s not allowed to hit on me while I’m ordering coffee?”
I blink at her. “You stormed into my house and dragged me out of bed because you want me to go yell at a barista who flirted with you?”
She looks furious. “Yes. It’s fucking rude.”
She’s not wrong. It is rude. But she also has a bad habit of making everything way more dramatic than it needs to be. And I’m not about to get out of my sweats for some ill-timed flirting.
Maybe. Depending on what he did.
“How did he flirt?”
“Uh, with his mouth.Andhis eyes,” she says like I’m the biggest moron in the world.
Pressing a hand to my face, I let out a slow breath. “What did he say?”
“Oh. That my top is cute. Which, like, itis, but how fucking dare you even say that to me while I’m just trying to order a coffee.”
