Sweet Nothing (8 page)

With cellophane taped to my freshly inked ribs, I dragged myself back to the apartment, desperate for a few hours of sleep. I knew I wouldn’t have long before Quinn was calling me again, wanting to party, and truth be told, I welcomed a break from reality. The past few days had begun to stir some repressed memories inside me. Kayla’s death was hard enough to relive; the last thing I wanted was for the rest to come back full force.

Falling back on my double bed, I closed my eyes, groaning as Dax jumped across my stomach and snuggled into my side.

I’d gotten a full four hours of shuteye before the heat from Dax’s puppy belly began to make me sweat. It was crazy how such a tiny thing make me could feel like I was under an electric blanket. I tugged off my clothes and groggily made my way to my bathroom, rushing through a warm shower.

As I smeared some ointment on my newest stripe, my phone chimed with a message from Quinn. He texted me a picture of the sign from Corner Hole Bar, and then a second picture. It took me a moment to figure out what it was: the back of Avery’s head.

Smirking to myself, I typed out a quick response, letting him know I’d be right there before changing into a fresh T-shirt and jeans. I headed out into the night, walking faster than I’d ever admit. One thing I loved about the North was the bars were open on Sundays, although Pennsylvania was a weird state where you could only get your alcohol from bars and state stores. It wasn’t like back home in Georgia where I could pick up a six-pack at the gas station.

Corner Hole was full of the usual suspects: doctors and nurses fresh from their shift and a few other third shifters peppered alongside local alcoholics. I nodded at Quinn, who held up a beer before looking to his left. I followed his gaze and locked eyes with Avery, who was laughing at something her friend Deb had said. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to suppress her wide smile.

I stared at her for a moment, unable to look away. It wasn’t until Quinn stepped into my view that I let the connection be broken.

“I don’t want to be a dick, but I call dibs on the brunette.”

I glanced around him to Deb, who was still engulfed in her conversation with Avery. Avery wasn’t as invested, still sneaking glances in my direction.

“She’s all yours, buddy.” I patted his shoulder before I walked toward the bar, struggling to suppress a laugh. Deb was a fireball, and she would eat Quinn alive, but she may have been the only kind of woman who could put him in his place besides his mother.

Leaning against the bar, I held up two fingers to Ginger, the barmaid. She nodded as she grabbed two Budweisers from the cooler and popped off the caps.

“You gonna keep an eye on this asshole tonight?” she asked as she tilted her head toward Quinn.

He mumbled something inappropriate under his breath as he picked up his beer. His grin widened as Ginger flicked her artificial auburn hair behind her shoulder.

“I’ll do my best.” I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and fished out two twenty-dollar bills, slapping them on the bar. “Can I get a round for those ladies? The usual.”

Ginger raised her eyebrow before pouring out two Cowboy Cocksucker shots.

I held up my beer to Avery as she smiled appreciatively. Deb picked up her glass and winked at Quinn before she ran her tongue over her lips and downed her drink.

“I’m hittin’ that tonight. How about you and her friend?” Quinn said, his words already slurring.

“I already hit her the other night, remember?” I laughed, and the fresh stripe tattoo on my side rubbed against the material of my shirt, reminding me the situation wasn’t funny at all. Not before, and not now. Getting involved with Avery was dangerous—for both of us. She could get hurt—even more seriously this time—and I had a feeling that would wreck me.

Deb was chattering in the background, going on about the way Quinn was looking at her from across the Corner Hole bar. My ears only caught every other word, between the live band and Josh Avery’s form fitting T-shirt and five o’clock shadow drawing my attention. He had bought me a drink, and any moment, he would walk toward me with the
fuck me
smile I’d seen him offer to other women so many times before.

It was shameful, the way I could anticipate his every move before he made it, yet I was playing along. Like so many before me, I would believe this time was different. Something about me would change his whoring ways, and he would be deeply in love and loyal to me until one of us died—and maybe even after that. It was a vicious cycle that kept us perpetually single and in desperate need of our next connection, however brief.

I looked over at Deb. I had kept a small, faithful circle of friends my entire life, but that circle was ever changing and grew smaller as I aged. I wasn’t sure if that meant something was wrong with me, or I was just growing wiser.

“Thanks for being here, Deb.”

She snorted. “I asked you here, remember?”

“You know what I mean.”

After my parents died, I didn’t seem to have anything in common with my high school friends. I couldn’t hear complaints about Shari’s mom not buying that dress for an upcoming rush party or how overbearing Emma’s dad was. I was trying to figure out how to juggle funeral arrangements and death taxes along with rent for an apartment and applying to nursing schools.

Deb and I had been part of a tight group since nursing school, and we’d grown closer once we were both hired on at the ER. The other nurses had fallen away for one reason or another. Heather had cheated on her husband and, once caught, blamed her single friends for her wild ways. The result was only spending their free time with married couples. Elizabeth liked designer clothes and expensive cars on a student’s budget, then borrowed money to pay her bills. Deb and I had decided it cost too much to be her friend. Shay made us laugh and was always up for a good time, but every week some absurd drama plagued her: pregnancy scares, stalker ex-boyfriends, and friends who had wronged her. Life seemed to be complicated enough without complicated friends, so we’d cut them loose. But I’d kept Deb, and she’d kept me.

After I had been forced to let go of my parents, any feelings I had about losing anyone else were barely noticeable. I worried letting go had become too easy.

“Stop, or I’ll tongue punch your fart box,” Deb said.

My expression twisted into disgust. “You are fucking offensive.”

“Yeah, but you’re here instead of there.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I won’t let you punish yourself for whatever fucked up thing in your past you couldn’t control.”

I smiled. Deb knew I was losing myself in a sad memory and used one of her shocking remarks to snap me out of it. It always worked. Deb got me, and for some odd reason, I got her.

As predicted, Josh left Quinn at the bar to wade through the maze of people and high-top tables to the charcoal velvet love seat where Deb and I were seated. He tapped the neck of his beer to mine and then shot me a charming grin before taking a sip.

I was different. Josh just didn’t know it yet.

Since the day I had woken up in the hospital, everything was different. The old Avery wouldn’t have given someone like Josh a chance, but things like ego and how I should or shouldn’t behave didn’t feel so important now.

Josh sat in front of me, pointing his beer toward the short tower of empty shot glasses stacked on the table in front of us. “How was the shot I sent over?”

“I’ve had better,” I said.

Josh made a face. “Why are you always so mean? I never have to try this hard. Ever. It’s damaging my already fragile ego,” he joked, placing his hand over his heart as if he were injured.

I smirked. “That’s why.”

Josh had earned his nickname. McPanties would take me for the night, but Josh and I had walked away from that horrible accident for a reason. I wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but we definitely hadn’t survived a high-speed collision with a tractor-trailer for a one-night stand. Call it fate or kismet or maybe just plain dumb luck, but I wanted to know, why
us
?

Josh settled in next to me, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re saying I’ve got a shot.”

“I’m saying this shot,” I said, holding up an empty glass, “was mediocre. You better up your game.”

His gray irises sparkled. “Challenge accepted.”

I giggled, lifting my bottle to take another sip. The bottle never made it to my mouth. Dr. Rosenberg was standing at the bar with Michaels. She was still wearing her scrubs, a ball of orange frizz seeming to hover above her head. When she spoke, her wild bun wobbled.

Dr. Rosenberg barely acknowledged her, looking trapped and uncomfortable.
Good.
Michaels had likely talked him into grabbing a drink after work. She wasn’t known to take no for an answer, and Dr. Rosenberg had been catching a lot of hell recently for not being approachable. I sighed, hating that I was making excuses for him. If I wasn’t careful, he would topple from the pedestal I placed men like him on.

Josh stopped and turned to see what had drawn my attention. When he faced me again, I felt my cheeks burn.

He gestured toward the doctor, clearly annoyed. “What is your deal with him? Are you having an affair?”

“No. God, no. He’s married,” I stuttered, not anticipating him being so direct. Josh wasn’t the type to sugarcoat anything, no matter how bitter the truth was to swallow.

“So?”

I frowned.

He held up his hands and shrugged. “I’m not saying I agree with it, but a doctor banging a nurse isn’t the craziest thing I’ve heard.”

“Dr. Rosenberg is a good man. He would never cheat on his wife.”

“So, that’s it,” Josh said as the skin between his eyebrows smoothed and he visibly relaxed.

“What?”

“Why you like him so much. He’s safe. You think you don’t have to worry about him returning your affection.”

I turned to him and narrowed my eyes, leaning my shoulder into the cushion. “Well, Dr. Avery, continue your analysis.”

“You obviously have daddy issues.”

“Oh, please. Who doesn’t?” His assessment was spot on, and I tried to count the years it had been since I’d even spoken to my aunt.

He didn’t hesitate. “You like me.”

“False.”

“Bullshit.” His eyebrow rose as he tipped the beer bottle to his lips.

“That certainly falls in line with your initial belief that I’m addicted to unrequited love.”

“You’re in
love
with him?” He didn’t try to hide the disgust in his tone.

“No. That’s not what I said. At all.”

“Then stop staring at him,” he said.

I blinked, realizing I was watching the doctor again. “I wasn’t. I was … I’m watching Michaels.”

“Because she’s with the doctor, and you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m revolted. I might have a tiny crush on him,” I said, watching Josh squirm at my confession, “but I would never act on it. Michaels
would
.”

Josh observed Michaels for nearly a minute before he made a judgment. “Yeah, she would. But Rosey is a big boy. You can’t make his decisions for him.”

“He would never,” I said. “He loves his wife.”

“Then why isn’t he at home with her right now? Even husbands who love their wives cheat. Men are animals, Avery. All it takes is fucking the same woman for seven years and a little extra attention from the right barely legal blonde.”