Washed Up (Bayside Heroes)

“Alright,” David says, standing with a clap of his hands that makes both me and Greg jump a little. “Greg, help me with this hot water heater real quick? I need to get it done and get home to my wife before she divorces me and takes my baby boy with her.”

“What about me?” I pout. “What can I do?”

David crosses the living room to me, picking up the remote and turning on the television. He lowers a kiss to my cheek. “You can put your feet up and rest like the queen you are.”

I narrow my eyes but can’t help the smile as I swat him away. “Brat.”

“You raised me like this.”

“Add it to my long list of regrets.”

David and Greg both chuckle, and then David leads the way toward the back hallway where the hot water heater sits tucked in a closet.

On his way back, Greg looks over his shoulder at me.

But the glance is so quick I wonder if it even happened at all.

CHAPTER FOUR

GREG

“I’m heading out,” I tell Stacy, rapping on the frame of her door twice as I pass. “On call this weekend.”

She nods, not taking her eyes off the case files on her desk. She’s likely getting a head start on her pre-op notes for Monday. “I’ll light a candle in your honor, willing an actual night off for you into the universe.”

I chuckle. “I appreciate it, but do it at home, okay? Lighting it here might have the opposite effect of your intention.”

She smirks, waving me off. “See you Monday.”

Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I make my way through the hall to the elevator, mumbling my goodnights to those I pass. I noticed Dane working the Emergency Room security checkpoint earlier, so I stop to say goodbye on my way out.

“Leaving before five o’clock?” Dane asks on a whistle as he checks his watch. “Must be nice, Doctor.”

“It is, until I get called back here at two in the morning.”

“I’m sure that doesn’t happen that often.”

I make a face. “You’d be surprised. How’s it going so far?” I ask, changing the subject with a nod at his badge.

He looks… different. Focused. Like he actually gives a shit about what he’s doing. And the smile he throws at me when I ask how it’s going further proves my assumption.

“It’s good, man. Really good. I mean, working down here has been whatever, but I start on the third floor tomorrow.”

“Psych unit.”

He grins, waggling his eyebrows like it’s just the challenge he needs.

“I know we give each other a lot of shit,” he says after a moment. “But… thank you. For this.”

He clears his throat, greeting a young woman and her small son who just walked through the door. I step behind him so he can check her bag and give them stickers that say they’ve cleared security before telling them where to check in, and then I nudge Dane.

“That almost killed you, didn’t it?”

He sniffs. “I’ll never say it again, so I hope you enjoyed that.”

I chuckle. “I did, actually. You’re welcome,” I add, squeezing his shoulder. “See you later.”

A tilt of his chin is his only response, and then I’m walking out the doors and toward the bike rack by the staff parking lot.

I unlock my bike when I reach it, tossing the lock in my bag before I mount it and kick off toward the bridge. It’s an easy fifteen-minute bike ride to my apartment building, and I enjoy the wind on my skin, the view of the Hillsborough River as I ride alongside it. I ignore the honking of cars caught in the downtown traffic as I zip by them, focusing on the sun making its lazy descent over the buildings, instead.

It’s kind of nice not having a car. I forgot how much I enjoy riding my bike, or getting in a little extra exercise with a long walk to work — although, after the mornings I’ve had running with Dane lately, I don’t need the extra miles. He’s been working through something. I know even though he hasn’t told me what yet, because the man has been running like an outlaw with the police hot on his tail.

Still, it’s been a refreshing change…

Except, if I’m being honest, I’ve spent most of my bike rides trying to think of a stupid errand I could use as an excuse to call Amanda.

She gave me her number when I left her house a few nights ago, making me promise her I’d call if I needed my car for anything. And although I’ve wanted to call every waking moment since, I’ve somehow refrained.

But now, it’s Friday evening, and even on call for the weekend, I know I’ll have free time. I won’t be able to immerse myself in my routine, in exercising early every morning, or burying myself in my cases all day long before eating dinner, passing out, and waking up to do it all again.