Page 4 of Corrupted By the Shadow King (Hope Runs Deep #3)

Nikki

M y alarm wakes me up, and I grab one of my extra pillows, throw it over my face, and scream.

My walls aren’t exactly thick, and the last time I decided to throw a temper tantrum, Mrs. Arnold from next door called the cops because she was worried someone was murdering me.

I wish I could have said the cops stormed the castle to find a man balls deep in me, but alas, that was not the case.

I am still tired after a night of little to no sleep because my mind would not shut off.

It kept jumping from one idea to another, even shoving my patients at the hospital in my face.

Of course, it did not help matters when Kevin chose to call me at midnight because he had a question about one of my patients that wound up in the cardiac unit.

Weird. I note everything, down to the smallest detail, so his call was unnecessary.

I am beyond meticulous. Why can’t he take the hint?

“Fucking alarm.” I can’t remember why I didn’t shut it off, but there has to be a reason.

And then it dawns on me. I’m supposed to meet up with my mother for brunch.

Our once-a-month meeting is her idea. She claims we don’t communicate enough, and she doesn’t see me enough…

I love her. I do. But she believes I should change careers, that what I do is too dangerous.

Especially after everything that happened with COVID.

I’m where I want to be, doing exactly what I am meant to do.

Yes, idiots annoy me, and I can occasionally resort to violence to make my point, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it.

When I was in my junior year of high school, my school hosted a blood drive, and I volunteered to help.

The star of the baseball team waltzed onto the bus like he owned it, only to pass out five minutes later at the sight of blood, and not his own.

The nurse was removing the catheter from another student’s arm, and he was out like a light, almost falling out of his chair.

Suddenly, another nurse swooped in, got him situated, gave him a cup of juice and a cookie, and sent him on his merry way.

Of course, he got razzed about what happened, and he downplayed it, saying something about how he wanted to make his brother, the captain of the football team, look better.

No one bought it for a second, but that moment stuck with me.

I had decided what I wanted to do, and when I graduated, I got into a nursing program.

I haven’t regretted it at all. Helping people is my calling.

My alarm screams again, and I throw my pillow at the wall in frustration. Mature? Not in the least. Do I care? Not at all.

I lay there for a couple more minutes, contemplating canceling on my mother when I get a text.

MOM: Don’t be late. Get your butt out of bed and put on a nice dress. Don’t forget to fix your hair and makeup.

Sometimes, I wish I had the balls to tell my mother to fuck off, but not only was I raised to be a good southern lady, I know full well my mother would break down my door, and I would live to regret my life choices. Times a million.

ME: Yes, mother dearest.

Okay, I can’t resist taunting her a little. That is one of the things she hates to be called.

MOM: Don’t get sassy with me.

ME: Yes. Yes.

Huffing, I throw back my neon green comforter and roll out of bed, barely landing on my feet in a crouched position. More than once, I’ve landed flat on my ass. One time, I even landed on a shoe and bruised my hip.

I am not a morning person, and crawling out of bed before ten should be illegal.

But I trudge into the bathroom, turn on the water with more force than necessary, and proceed to beautify myself for a meal that only includes my mother.

Why she insists on dressing up, I will never understand.

I like lowkey and only wear makeup when I’m on a date or going somewhere fancy.

Brunch at the local Cracker Barrel does not fall into either of those categories.

I will placate her, though, because she is my mother and I love her…

even if I want to wring her neck right now.

I force my body to move and stand under the scalding water once I can’t see my reflection in the mirror for the steam.

I don’t move. Instead, I allow the steam to envelop me like a warm blanket, wrapping me in the soothing stream.

If only I could stay here for the rest of eternity.

I don’t mean that. Well, right now I do.

With a sharp exhale, I finally wash myself, shaving and applying extra conditioner even though I’m probably wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and throwing my hair up in a messy bun.

I don’t feel like putting forth the effort this morning.

I’m tired and cranky. The only reason I am second-guessing my choices about my person today is my mother, but what can she do to me once we are there and in the middle of the restaurant?

Throw a makeup bag and hairbrush at me and tell me to fix myself in the bathroom?

It’s not like she carries around a new wardrobe with her.

DING!

I drop my mascara onto my vanity and throw my head back as I groan. Ten bucks says it’s my mother.

MOM: You better be on your way. Tardiness is unbecoming.

Rolling my eyes, I bite back an expletive and reply.

ME: About to walk out the door. I’ll meet you at the restaurant. Have some things to take care of after.

MOM: Fine.

When we were kids, anytime she used that word on my father, he would tell us to go to our rooms or outside, and then the yelling would start. I realized at an early age that word could start WW3. It also means she is in a mood, and I'd better hurry.

I stare at myself in the mirror after I dress.

I couldn’t completely get her voice out of my head.

My one act of rebellion is wearing black jeans; however, they are paired with a flowing lavender tank top, black ballet flats, and my hair has been brushed and flows down my back.

It will probably only last five minutes in this hot humidity.

I can’t stand my hair falling on my neck when I’m hot, but I will acquiesce for now.

I last the amount of time it takes to walk out of my apartment and get in my car.

The moment I shut myself inside my white Dodge Journey, I crank up the air conditioning, grab my hair tie, and pile my hair on top of my head.

I can’t do it. I don’t care what my mother or anyone else thinks.

My hair needs to be up. It is hotter than hell outside, and no one should have to suffer through feeling uncomfortable.

Traffic on the way to downtown is stop-and-go, and it makes me question why I still live here.

Nurses are needed everywhere in the world.

I don’t have to live next to Satan’s balls, but I do, and every time I start to look for a job outside of San Antonio, something stops me.

Maybe it’s my family. Maybe it’s the life I built here.

Maybe I’m terrified of starting over where I know no one.

I hate change. My sister wasn’t wrong when she got onto me for working all the time.

If I fill my life with things like work or hobbies, it is easy to pretend that I’m not terrified of putting myself out there.

All throughout my childhood, I was always the nerd and extremely introverted. No boy looked at me, and I didn’t have a lot of friends. The ones I did have were amazing, and I knew I could count on them. I still can, even to this day.

In college, I discovered myself. I got some contacts, changed my hair a little, and got some new clothes.

Thanks mainly to Agathe, who begged me to allow her to give me a makeover.

It took a full semester of being called nerd-girl for me to finally give in, and I never looked back.

Really, she did me a favor. I was still overly shy and reserved, but I felt comfortable in my own skin.

Like I belonged. People no longer turned away or gave me funny looks.

Instead, they talked to me, made me feel welcome, and I found my first and only boyfriend.

He turned into a douche canoe of the nth degree, but even then, I learned something.

I learned what assholes some men are and what I do not want in a relationship.

Pulling into a garage a block away from the restaurant, I quickly park and breathe a sigh of relief.

I still have five minutes, and if I run, I can make it.

I will probably be pouring sweat by the time I sail through the door, but that is all right.

Yes, I can park closer, but that would mean my escape will be that much more difficult.

This way, once brunch is over, I can run away, and my mother will not follow, and that means I don’t have to listen to her lecture longer than necessary.

I breathe deeply and exhale slowly before I turn off the engine and get out of the car.

The heat and humidity slap me like a wet blanket, making me contemplate getting back in the car and canceling on my mother.

I don’t, of course, but the thought crosses my mind multiple times on the trek to the restaurant.

I enter and see her seated to the left. She hasn’t noticed my arrival yet, though, and I make a break for the restrooms to freshen up.

I’m hot and sweaty and need to wipe some of the perspiration off me before I face the firing squad.

I make my mother out to be some sort of horrible person, but she’s not.

I love her. I just don’t want to deal with her or people today.

I’ve had to deal with enough bullshit from my job and my sister.

Alas, that ship has sailed, and I have no choice.