“Nope,” I answer. “But I am a decent person, so…”
I punctuate my point by yanking open the door and getting into the car.
Not going to lie, after weeks of stewing over him firing me, it feels pretty dang triumphant to slam my car door closed on any further arguments.
But then, just as I’m starting up the car, the passenger door opens and he slides in beside me. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”
I look at him. I’m enclosed in the same space as Rhys again. We’re breathing the same air. Which is technically inadvisable, since he’s been seeing patients every day, but it’s too late now.
I’m already compromised.
I mentally wade through all the data I’ve been reading about COVID over the last few weeks, much of it conflicting. Then I reach into my father’s bag and pull out two masks, offering him one.
He silently takes it and puts it on. I do too. And then we reverse out the driveway for the hour-long trip to see Mavis.
I guess he’s putting his crazy revenge aside and working with me again. At least as long as it takes to make sure Mavis is okay.
Chapter Nine
Three Years Ago
I ate the Chinese food but threw away the post-it notes along with the empty carton.
I also asked Edie, our chief nurse to schedule me for opposite shifts whenever possible.
No more dating where I shit, I decided after that. And I thought about dusting off my Tinder account, but somehow just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It’s like Rhys had sucked all the fun out of casual dating. But whatever. There were better things to do with my time than men anyway, I figured.
So instead of dating, I volunteered even more hours at the Fountain Park Free Clinic. However, that distraction turned to be only temporary too.
“Sorry, but it looks like this is the last shift we’re going to need you for,” Dr. Grady said after we sent the mother of a little boy out the door with antibiotics for an advanced ear infection. “I’ve decided to sell the clinic.”
“What?” I said, more than a little surprised.
Dr. Grady with his good heart and willingness to make half of what he would working at a hospital had always struck me as the kind of man who would stick with the clinic until he went into the ground. He reminded me of my father actually, and that was why I’d been happy to volunteer at the Fountain Park free clinic.
“I’m getting old, Nurse Cynda. And I got a decent offer on this place from DBCare.”
Ugh! Not DBCare again. I knew this story all too well. That European medical conglomerate had a reputation for swallowing up both city and rural clinics and replacing them with DB Urgent Cares—most of which didn’t have any kind of free options, and a few of them didn’t even offer scaled pricing. My father had been complaining about that company since the late 90s and had sworn to never sell out to them.
But I could see why old Dr. Grady couldn’t make such promises. Running a free clinic in a poverty-stricken neighborhood might be the noble thing to do but it wasn’t well-paying. Most of the money that came was from grants, he and a few other generous volunteers applied for during their few off-hours. And I didn’t have to look at the clinic’s balance sheet to know he didn’t pay himself much of a salary.
The truth was, at age 70, Dr. Grady should have already been retired. And I was happy for him, even if I was worried about the future of the clinic.
“But the good news is they’re looking for paid RNs. You want me to put in a good word for you?” Dr. Grady asked.
The offer tempted me. Switching jobs would really mean I’d never have to see Rhys again. But my father would never forgive me if I went to work for the enemy. Also, I didn’t want The Fine Prince to suspect that I was so upset about him having a fiancée, that I changed jobs. No, I was way too proud for that.
Besides his fellowship had less than a year left. I could pretend it didn’t torture me to see other nurses flirting with him that long.
“No, thanks. I’m good at Raines-Jewish,” I answered Dr. Grady. “But I’m going to miss you.”
We said our goodbyes and hugged and then that was that. I guess I’ll have to find somewhere else to volunteer, I thought as I walked out to my car. Somewhere DBCare hadn’t gotten to yet.
A small bit of solace came just as I was about to turn left out of the clinic’s parking lot. A text from my roommate.
“Just got off my shift. Teen GSW. Coded. Want to meet me and Amber for a drink?”
Even though I was an ER nurse and my roommate was up in surgical, I easily translated the message. Her young patient had died while undergoing surgery for a gunshot wound. And even though her girlfriend, who was a medical researcher at Wash U. was coming out tonight, she wanted me there, too. Sometimes nurses needed other nurses to commiserate.