I have to get up and use the bathroom again, though, and when I throw the blankets back, nothing has changed. It’ll be okay in the end…somehow it has to be.
I’m not going to end up homeless on the street. I have time before I need to leave here, and I have money in savings that will tide me over until I can get another job. Once I’ve showered and cleared my head, I’ll fire up a good old-fashioned job search.
On the internet, that is.
“Would it be too much to swaddle you in my baby blanket and bring you to dinner tonight?” I ask Figaro, who’s sunbathing on the living room floor. “Might as well accept my fate as childless, crazy cat lady now.” He stretches and rolls over, which I take as a yes. “Just remember, you agreed to it.”
I grab my phone and take it into my room, plugging it into the charger. Then I pull a pair of black leggings and an oversized grey sweater from my closet and toss them on the bed, preparing my outfit for the day. I’m still dragging as I cross through the apartment and into the bathroom. Brushing my teeth, showering, and then drying my hair perks me up a bit, and I make myself a bowl of yogurt topped with blueberries and granola after that.
A heavy feeling is still sitting on my chest, and it has everything to do with how much I’m not looking forward to telling everyone that I’m a jobless, undatable loser and I guess Mason was right for being embarrassed to be seen with me when we were in high school.
I don’t wear mismatching clothes and tell people to call me Luna Lovegood anymore, but the sentiment is still the same.
Yes, I’m being dramotional again.
Deciding to look for apartments now that I have a clear head, I open up my laptop and go back to the new ones I looked at last night. Maybe I got the prices wrong in my sangria-hazed state of mind.
I didn’t.
The apartments are gorgeous, but way overpriced for Silver Ridge. We’ve grown a lot in the last few years, but I just can’t see people paying that much to live in our humble downtown, which I’m already biased toward.
“What about houses to rent?” I mumble out load as I type in a new search. There are two nearby and are affordable, but don’t allow pets. Well, that’s out.
“Oh! This one allows cats!” I click on the picture and flip through the images, almost able to see myself living inside the quaint Craftsman-style house, sitting in that window seat with a book in my hand.
And then realize the listed rent didn’t include utilities. Talk about misleading. I close my computer, needing a mental break, and try not to feel too sick about not getting a paycheck next Friday.
I’m going to have to start cutting things out and stick to a strict budget. Dad taught us to live below our means, since he and Mom struggled financially when they were newlyweds. They’re well-off now, but it wasn’t without years of struggle.
I’ve been a little lenient on my budget lately, going out to eat, getting Starbucks a few times a week and online shopping. But I had a good job that paid well.
I’ll get one again.
I close my eyes, blinking away tears, and repeat it in my head. I will get another job. I have an impressive resume. I’ll find something, and it might not be my dream job, working in the OR again, but it will be something.
Snow crunches under my tires, and my Grand Cherokee rolls to a stop behind Sam’s BMW. Mason’s Range Rover is next to his, making the snowy driveway look like a photoshoot from a car magazine. But then I see Jacob’s truck pulled to the side and laugh. It’s covered in mud, blocking out most of the lettering on the driver’s side door that reads Jacob Harris, DVM.
I put my Jeep in park and run my hand through my hair, hoping that if I look put together, everyone will assume I’m all there mentally as well. I feel better than I did this morning, mostly because I’m not hungover anymore.
A blast of cold air greets me as soon as I step out of the Jeep. I flip my hood up and hurry into the house. I pull open the garage door, stepping aside to let the barn cats sneak in to get warm before they make the run from the back porch to the barn later when Dad goes out to feed the animals.
The house smells amazing as soon as I step inside, and I immediately feel ten times better just to be back in my childhood home. I have a lot of good memories here, and though I was bullied more than I wasn’t in my youth, my home life was always safe and comforting.
“Hello?” I call, stomping snow off my boots. I kick them off, grimacing when I step on a ball of snow and my sock gets wet.
“Rory?” Mom calls back, sounding like she’s in the living room. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” I unzip my coat and shake my foot, getting all the snow off as I walk in through the mudroom and into the kitchen.
“I thought you were working until seven.”
I glance at the clock. It’s a little after five. “I was.” I swallow hard, feeling the lump rising in my throat. My family isn’t judgmental—at least not toward each other—but I still can’t help but feel embarrassed. “But I don’t have a job anymore.”
There. I said it. Ripped it off like a band-aid.
Mom, who was going around the island counter to pour me a cup of coffee, stops short. “What?”
“The new company that bought out the hospital made a lot of cuts. And I was one of the lucky one.”
“Oh, honey!” Mom sets the coffee pot back down and comes over, wrapping me in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling awkward already. “I’ll find something new, I’m sure.”
“You will. You’re a smart girl. And maybe you can get better hours. You always worked so much.”
“Most nurses do,” I remind her.
“What about a school nurse? They get holidays off.”
“It would be nice, but I’d be taking a pay cut and the school already has a nurse.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t want this to take away from this weekend, okay?”
“Of course, honey,” Mom says, knowing that I mean more than just taking the fun out of the weekend. I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t need pity. Mom goes back to getting me coffee and I go into the living room, where my brothers are watching TV.
Sam sees me first and stands, smile on his face, and crosses the room, wrapping me in a hug.
“It’s good to see you, sis.”
“You too. It’s been too long. You need to come visit more. It’s only a four-hour drive.”
“Only.” Sam laughs and lets me go. “How’s life in the OR?”
“You owe me twenty bucks,” Mason says to Jacob. “They didn’t even make it thirty seconds before brining up the OR,” he says in a voice meant to mock Sam. I turn, scowling at Mason, but it’s hard to be mad at my brother when I haven’t seen him in months.
“How’s the knee?” I ask, changing the subject. Mason got injured chasing down a criminal and is supposed to be taking it easy until he heals, and he’s not dealing with the time away from the action well. As an FBI agent, he’s not allowed to tell us details of what happened, only that whoever he tackled was wanted internationally. “It’s fine.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I should be out there back on the case—”
“And now you owe me twenty bucks,” Jacob tells Sam, and then looks at me. “Wanna guess how many times we’ve heard this story since he’s gotten here?”
“At least three,” I say and step over to the coffee table, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “But it’s good to hear you’re doing well, Mason. We were all worried you’d gotten shot or something.”
“Shot at,” he says casually. “But they missed. They’ve all missed…so far.”
I sit on the couch, carefully scooping up Cookie, a large gray cat who Jacob nursed back to health his first year as a vet. The poor thing was found nearly frozen to death in the snow, with her long fur matted together in clumps of ice.
“I have to finish up alterations for a client,” Mom says, walking through the living room. “Then I’ll start dinner before Dad comes home. Nana is napping in t
he guest room, so try to keep it down. Physical therapy wore her out.”
“How’s she doing?” Sam asks. Nana had a hip replaced not that long ago, but it hasn’t slowed her down.
“Wonderfully, though I think she wears the staff out just as much as they wear her out,” Mom laughs. “She has her PT in stitches by the time I pick her up.” Mom stops before going into her sewing room, looking around the living room with tears in her eyes. “It’s so good to have you all home.”
A bit of guilt bubbles up inside of me. This is a happy weekend, celebrating forty-five years of marriage. My parents were high school sweethearts and got married only days after graduation. I don’t want to be a damper on anyone’s mood with my string of bad luck.
I grab another handful of popcorn and eat it piece by piece, trying to focus on whatever my brothers are watching, which turns out to be a documentary on serial killers.
“How’s that guy…Matt? No…Mike? Yeah. Mike,” Jacob asks, reaching for the bowl of popcorn. “He coming tomorrow?”
“No, he is not.” I run my fingers over Cookie’s soft fur. “We’re not together anymore.” As much as I told myself it was okay, that I wasn’t emotionally invested, my words sting.
I’m struggling not to take it personally. My throat feels thick and tears pool in my eyes.
“What did that asshole do?” Mason asks, looking like he’s ready to jump up, get in his car and drive to Mike’s house and start throwing punches. We’re only eighteen months apart, and while I couldn’t stand him most of my youth, he’s always had my back.
“Nothing,” I sigh. “Nothing I can get really mad about, well, except that he kind of manipulated me into sleeping with him one last time before breaking up with me.” I blink away the tears and refocus my energy on the sense of freedom I have now.
“He what?” Jacob’s brows go up. “Where does this fucker live?”
“Guys, chill. He didn’t want anything serious, and I can’t fault him for that. Though it would have been nice to know before I wasted six fucking months with him.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam says, and I know he means it. “The guy’s an idiot.”
“Thanks.” I let out a heavy sigh and watch crime scene photos play out on the TV.
“Hey,” Sam goes on, playfully nudging me with his elbow. “At least you have the OR to keep you busy, right?”
“Actually…” I bit my lip and look at my brothers. “Anyone want to drink with me?”
I put my head in my hands and sigh. “I have no job, no boyfriend, and pretty soon, I won’t have a place to live.” I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my brothers, and Sam made us all Jack and Cokes. I haven’t touched mine yet, stomach still queasy over the thought of putting any more alcohol in it.
“Don’t say that too loud or Mom will try to move you back in here,” Jacob says as he breezes through the kitchen, grabbing two banana-nut muffins from the plate on the center of the island counter. “And you’ll find another job.”
“I’m sure I will eventually,” I reply, being the optimist that I try to be. “Though nursing jobs in Silver Ridge are few and far between.” I heft back in my chair and let out a sigh. I’m not dramatic or anything, not at all. “Until then, I should start digging up the backyard in hopes of finding a mammoth bone or something I can sell to science.”
“I don’t think you’ll get too much for it,” Jacob says, wrapping the muffins in a napkin. “And the ground is still frozen.”
“Fine, then I’ll be a black widow.”
“Like the superhero?” Mason asks, brows going up.
“Yes,” I tell my brother, rolling my eyes. “I’m going to find the real-life Avengers and have them hire me as the newest member of their team. I hear their dental insurance is amazing.”
“Hilarious,” Mason grumbles and goes back to his food.
“Then what do you mean?” Sam asks, eyeing the cookies and muffins on the counter that are meant for dessert. It’s been a Harris family rule for, well forever, that we don’t eat until everyone is here. Dad is still at work and Mom is in her office, finishing last-minute alterations to a pretty ivory-colored wedding dress.
“I mean, I’ll marry rich old men only to kill them and take their money.” I nod as I think about it. “It’ll probably be less stress than working as a nurse, actually.”
“Right.” My oldest brother slowly nods. “Avoiding murder charges sounds super relaxing.”
“I’ll be good enough not to get caught.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Ohh, maybe I could be their caretaker and make it look natural. Oh, sorry, Mr. Bennet, but I warned you not to sneak any more cookies. Your blood sugar skyrocketed, and even though I tried to save you, it was too late.”
All three of my brothers stare at me incredulously.
“You know I have to take threats of murder seriously,” Mason says slowly.
“She’s joking,” Jacob says. “Right? It’s hard to tell sometimes.” Jacob shakes his head. “I got a colicky horse I need to go see. Tell Mom I should be back by dinner. Don’t kill anyone, sis. Orange is not your color.” He pats my head on his way out the door, much like he used to do when we were younger, purposely messing up my hair just to piss me off.
I let out another sigh and try not to worry. I’m a nurse, and I like being a nurse. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be, and when Sam was going through hell in med school, I knew I made the right decision. I get to take care of people, improve both my patients’ and their families’ lives, and really feel like I’m making a difference. “There’s just not a lot of options around here,” I lament.
“I might be able to help you out, sis.” Sam leans back and the old wooden chair creaks. The sound is familiar, reminding me of family dinners from years past. It’s funny how he still sits in the same spot that he did when we were kids. We all do, actually, and there’s something comforting in knowing that we’ll always have a place around this old, worn table.
“Are they hiring where you are?” I ask hopefully. Sam is an anesthesiologist at an award-winning trauma-center in Chicago. He’s only been there for two years now, but he loves it. “You can put in a good word for me and think of how much fun it would be to work together.” I give my brother a big smile.
“We just hired two new physicians and five nurses. But I know somewhere that is looking for a new OR nurse. Do you remember my friend Archer Jones? We roomed together during our residency?”
“Ohhhh,” I say as his face comes into mind. “The sexy surgeon. Yes, I very much remember him. Is he single and looking to settle down with a hot, slightly neurotic, yet very skilled nurse?”
“Only slightly neurotic?” Mason mumbles, earning a glare from me.
“No,” Sam says with a laugh. “He’s happily married with a few kids.”
“Dammit. All the good ones are taken. Maybe Nana was right to say that any guy worth settling down with would have settled down before he turned thirty.”
“Hey!” Mason looks up from the pie he’s shoveling in his face. I seriously don’t understand how he’s so fit when he eats like that. I just look at that pie and gain ten pounds. “I’m single.”
“Exactly.” I raise my eyebrows. “I said all the good ones. Even Sam has a girlfriend.”
“If I wanted to settle down, I would,” he counters, and really believes it. And it probably would happen, even with him getting reassigned all over the country for work. That’s Mason’s luck for you. “But why stop now when I’m on a roll? Women dig men in uniform, and I score more ass than—” He cuts off when Nana Benson whacks him on the back of the head. Ditching the walker she’s still supposed to be using, I didn’t even hear her come into the kitchen.
“Talk like that and no lady will want to settle down with you.” She picks up his Jack and Coke and takes a drink. “You keep those numbers to yourself.” She gives him a wink. “If I’d gone on blabbing, your granddaddy wouldn’t have asked me to marry him.” She chuckles. “He thought I was a virgin on our wedding
night. God rest his soul.”
“Nana,” Sam spits out, face pulled back with horror. “Please don’t ruin the sweet old lady image I’ve had of you in my head all these years.”
She finishes the drink. “There’s nothing sweet about me.” Setting the glass on the counter, she comes over to me. “Don’t worry, Rory. You’ll find a job and a man. Ideally in that order. Don’t forget, anything a man can give you, you can give yourself.”
Mason and Sam exchange looks and if Nana was closer, she’d smack them both upside the head. “Get your minds out of the gutter.” She turns her gaze back to me. “You’re smart and capable. You’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, Nana.” I smile, nodding to reaffirm it to myself. I will figure it out. “So, Sam, when do you think you'll be able to talk to Archer?"
“You really want me to?” Sam asks. “The hospital is in Eastwood, Indiana. It’s probably five hours away.”
My stomach tightens. “That’s far.”
“It’s not,” Mason counters. “You can do that in a day.”
“But I can’t come home for dinner.”
“You’ve never left Silver Ridge,” he goes on.
“I did too. College,” I remind him.
“Listen, sis,” he says gently, which is out of the norm for say-how-he-feels Mason. “Just try it. Getting out of here could be good for you,” he urges, not having to bring up my lack of friends in town or how being labeled as the “weirdo” in school has stuck with me even today. “You don’t have a job or a house right now, so it’s the perfect time to branch out. If it’s not a good fit, move back. Mom would let you stay here until you figured things out.”
I grind my teeth and reach for my Jack and Coke, still not taking a drink but needing to feel the cold glass against my fingers. “I guess you’re right.”
“I am right. If there was a time for you to take a bit of a risk, it’s now, when you have nothing to lose.”
I look up, pursing my lips. “Thanks.”
“You know what I mean. Look, if I didn’t take a chance, I never would have gotten where I am today. Silver Ridge will always be my home too, and I’ll end up here when I retire, I’m sure, but you got to live a little. You just said you want another nursing job and there aren’t any here. So you only have one option: go somewhere else.”
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