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“Like, for example, last night I had a dream that Xavier and I fucked you.”
I choke on a mouthful a water, spitting it across the ground and desperately pulling in air as Yale laughs. I punch his bicep several times. “Zayden told you!”
“Yes, he told me.” He cackles. “Why did you lie?”
“Because it’s weird! Don’t tell me it’s not weird.”
He shrugs. “It really isn’t, love. It’s a dream. That’s all.”
Wiping the excess water from my chin, I slump against the bench. “You’re right. I’m overthinking it.”
“I gotta ask, though …” He takes the packaging from my lap and leans close, lowering his voice. “What happened in this dream?” I lightly shove him and try to stand, but he wraps his arms around me. “Come on. Tell me.”
I laugh and angle my face away. “You don’t really want to know.”
“We tell each other everything, Q. Try me.”
My neck is hot, and I sigh. “I mean, I don’t remember most of it, just … Xavier was … y’know.” I gesture between my legs.
“Eating you out?”
“Oh my God!” I whimper, and he lets me go, but I remain seated. “Yes. And you were … talking to me.”
I expect disappointment, but instead, intrigue curls his lips. “Saying what?”
“Silence!”
Snapping my head to the right, I spot Amelia at the ER entrance, gesturing in a panic. “I should go.”
Yale leans back. “See you after work, love.”
There’s no time to think about our conversation. The hours pass by in a blur, and soon I’m way past my time to leave.
“Silence, go,” Steffi says, gesturing at her watch for the fourth time. My shift ended thirty minutes ago, but we’re understaffed and busy as hell.
I shake my head. “I can stay a little—”
“Get out!” several other nurses shout, and I sigh, stripping off my latex gloves.
“Fine. I love you all! Happy holidays!”
Before leaving, I stop at one of the bays. Amelia is examining a thumb that saw the business end of an electric meat slicer. The patient is a worrying shade of green, perspiration on her brow.
“You okay, Amelia?”
She grins at me. “Yep. Are you leaving?”
“I am. See you in two weeks. You might want to keep an eye on—” The patient lurches forward and pukes, yellow bile splashing across Amelia’s scrubs. I wince, offering a sympathetic smile. “Have a good Christmas?”
She grimaces and nods, and I head for the door.
Monica is standing by my car when I reach it, and I glare at the cigarette between her fingers. “Mon. You worked so hard!”
“I know. Stress.” She chews her thumb, the cigarette tip glowing in the darkness as she takes a drag and exhales it into the air. “Don’t tell on me, okay?”
“Fine, but you owe me an eggnog latte.” I say as I search through my purse for my keys. Once I’ve clicked the fob, I finally get a closer look at Monica. Maybe I was caught up in the rush of work, because I only now notice the bags under her eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah …” Her laugh is tinny, and when I place my hand on her arm, she looks away, her eyes shining. “Can you do me a favor tonight? Can you keep an eye on Grant?”
