Page 3
CHAPTER 2
EMBER
What. The. Hell?
“Why don’t you go home?”
I shake my head, ignoring the tears that threaten to spill out onto my cheeks. As a home health nurse specializing in caring for the elderly, I’m no stranger to death and dying, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. My patients are everything to me, and I’d been with Mrs. Franklin longer than most.
“I’m fine,” I insist, not looking at Harold. As the mortician, he and I have stood over numerous bodies together, and he’s always trying to look out for me. “I’m all she had, and Mrs. Franklin deserves to not be left alone.”
He gives a curt nod, refocusing on preparing the body to be transported to the funeral home.“Usual arrangements?”
Harold and I have an agreement. He gets my business, and I get a discount. “Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when everything’s ready.”
“Thanks.”
It’s another twenty minutes before Harold leaves with Mrs. Franklin safely tucked away in the back of the hearse. I’m exhausted all the way to my soul, but I still have to go home and submit the forms required by my agency when we lose a patient.
The drive home is a somber one. I think about those I’ve lost, the ones who no longer had family or friends to give a rat’s ass when they were gone. It breaks my heart knowing that so many people don’t have anyone to love them.
They have you.
And I’m not so naive as to think that I’m enough. I’ve never been enough, especially when it mattered most. But I’m all they have, and I know I bring them some measure of comfort.
Dusk is just settling in when I reach my house, and I take a moment to appreciate the stillness in the air. I live in the country, and I’m never more grateful for it than when I’m coming home after a loss.
“You chose this career,” I whisper to myself. “You make a difference.”
As soon as I’m inside, I kick off my sensible shoes and toss my purse onto the entry table. It’s been two days since I’ve been home, having chosen to remain by Mrs. Franklin’s side at the end. I need a shower, comfy clothes, and food before I can even think about paperwork.
Before heading to the bathroom, I grab the half-full bottle of wine from the fridge, not bothering with a glass, and pop the cork. I swallow a large sip as I trudge down the hall.
The hot water of the shower soothes my aching muscles but does little to ease the ache in my heart. When I became a nurse, I worked primarily in a hospital setting, but it didn’t take me long to recognize that secondary trauma is real, and I wanted none of it.
I’ve had enough trauma of my own to last two lifetimes.
Once I’m clean, I wrap myself in a fluffy blue towel and take another healthy swig of my wine. I change into a pair of baggy sweats and an oversized tee before slipping my feet into my slippers and returning to the kitchen.
My fridge is full of takeout containers, and since I can’t remember when I ordered them, I close the door and move to the pantry. Grabbing a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos, I rip it open and shove one into my mouth.
I make a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow as I walk to my office. When I step inside, I scan the shelves on the wall, acknowledging those who went before Mrs. Franklin.
“You’ll all like her,” I say to the urns. “She was sweet.”
“Here, let me help you.”
I take a step back from the shelf in the cookie aisle and smile at the teenage grocery clerk.
“Thanks.”
He hands me the package of Double Stuffed Oreos, and I toss it into my cart with all the other junk food. I should’ve made a list before I left the house, but I have to go into the office to read up on the new patient I’ll be assigned now that Mrs. Franklin is gone.
And before you judge me, there’s some fruits and veggies along with the junk food. I’m a nurse, after all.
A half-hour later, I’m making my way to the checkout when I hear my name being called. I turn around and smile.
“Hey, Addison,” I greet. “Long time, no see.”
Addison and I don’t run in the same circles—hell, I don’t run in any circles… I’m a homebody when I’m not working—but it’s not unheard of for us to cross paths in our lines of work, especially when I’m dealing with unruly family members of patients.
“I heard about Mrs. Franklin,” she says.
“Yeah, that was a tough one,” I admit.
“She was lucky to have you.”
“Thanks.”
“Listen, I’m glad I ran into you.” She glances around as if to make sure we can’t be overheard. “I was going to call you later, and this saves me from having to do that.”
My skin prickles with unease. Why would she need to call me? I no longer have a reason for police to be involved in my life now that my parents are dead, and I can’t think of anything I’ve done wrong so?—
“Wipe that look off your face,” she admonishes. “It’s nothing bad.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh. Okay.”
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“Um… Have you filled out the form with the agency?”
She shakes her head. “This would be an off the books job.” When I stare at her with confusion, she continues. “One of Crow’s MC brothers needs a nurse for his mom. He asked if I could help him with that, and I immediately thought of you.”
I’d heard something about Addison marrying a biker. It was hard to miss that info because the gossip spread like wildfire in our small town.
Interesting choice as the police chief’s daughter, but to each their own.
“Do you have any specifics about the patient?” I ask, curious.
She scrunches her nose. “Some. But I can have the son give you a call later if that’s okay. He’d be better to talk to about it.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
“Oh, and heads up,” she says. “His mom needs a full-time nurse who can be with her twenty-four-seven. You’d be compensated appropriately, of course.” She reaches into her pocket, pulls out her cell, and hands it to me. “Here, put your cell number in there so I can pass it along.”
I do as she says as I try to process the conversation. As soon as I return her phone to her, she smiles and says to expect a call later, and then she’s gone.
What. The. Hell?