“I’m just... not su
re how to do this. I was so awkward in Rome.”
“Well, he called and asked you out, so apparently awkward works for him.” Her expression turned serious as she cupped my cheek with one hand.
“Did you ever talk to the Winchesters about me? I mean, do they know about Ryan?”
“No, that’s not my story to tell. Just take it easy, Laney. There is no checklist of things to do.”
“It would help, though.”
She chuckled, glancing toward the living room at the group. “You know what would help?” she whispered. “Insider knowledge on Cole. I bet Josie has some.”
Josie had known Cole as long as she’d known Hunter, since they’d all gone to the same school.
“Yes, I do!” Josie said loudly from behind the boxes.
“So do we,” Dylan added. I laughed, pressing the start button of the machine. Of course they’d heard us.
Well, now that the cat was out of the bag, why not roll with it? I made coffee for everyone except myself, because I needed to get a good night’s sleep.
“Thank God Cole asked you out. Hunter says he’s been in a bit of a mood at work,” Josie said as I handed her a cup.
“Oh, he did mention that. I wasn’t sure if he really meant it.”
“Trust me, he did. I’ve known Cole for about fifteen years now. I’m trying to figure out how to structure all that information best. Hmm...”
“Dylan and I can start with the most recent history,” Ian said.
Dylan nodded. “Like some stuff he did at Ryker’s bachelor party.”
“Are you sure Cole wouldn’t mind you telling me stuff?” I asked. After all, I was keeping my cards close.
“I’m sure,” Dylan said.
Josie glared at her brothers. “Let’s start with the good stuff.”
I grinned at the group, rubbing my palms, suddenly feeling a little less scared about tomorrow. “No, no. I want all the info. Don’t leave anything out. I’m all ears.”
Chapter Eight
Laney
The life of a surgical resident was one hundred percent less glamorous than people imagined. I was required to be at the hospital at five thirty, so I woke up at five. Upon my arrival, the overnight intern handed me the sign-out. I had time to digest that until the chief called the rounds, which usually lasted one hour. I didn’t actually spend that much time in surgery. A big chunk of my day was spent on the floor, checking on the patients and doing discharges.
However, after being an intern, this was actually an improvement. I only recalled that year through a haze. The hours were even longer, the work even more boring. Now I had my own interns. Four years from now, I would be a general surgeon, unless I chose a specialty that required further training, but I didn’t think I will. As part of my general surgery residency, I had to spend a few months in every specialty, and I quite liked being a jack of all trades.
The changing room was full when I arrived. There was no such thing as shame in that room. We each had a tiny locker, and men and women changed side by side. Slipping into my scrubs and sneakers, I felt like myself again. I skimmed my hands down them, smiling at how familiar the fabric felt against my palms. I pulled up my hair in a tight bun, slipped my phone and my pager in the pockets of the pants.
I had been truly shocked the first time I realized pagers were still used, but I unraveled the mystery quickly. The pager signal was more reliable than the one for a phone. Since hospital walls had extra insulation because of X-rays and so on, there were certain floors where there was no signal at all.
After getting the list from my intern, I immediately told him that I’d want to catch up with him and the other three. I’d been gone for too long, and I didn’t want to miss anything. It was going to be outside of working hours, but he didn’t question it. We all did what we had to do.
“Sure. I’ll talk to everyone, and we’ll find a time,” he said.
“Thanks.”
The rounds went by quickly. I had immense respect for the chief of surgery. He was efficient and fair and didn’t hold back from the residents—he regularly asked us to attend complicated surgeries. I’d learned a lot from him.