by G. Benson
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www.ylva-publishing.com
OTHER BOOKS BY G BENSON
All the Little Moments
Flinging It
Pieces
Table of Contents
Other books by G Benson
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About G Benson
Other Books from Ylva Publishing
Flinging It
You’re Fired
Coming from Ylva Publishing
Falling into Place
The Brutal Truth
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my incredible beta team Katja, Katie, Erin, Angela, and Alex. Thanks to people who read for sensitivity and for language. You’re all fantastic.
A huge thanks to the editors who worked with me, especially Michelle and Zee. Your feedback and hard work are so appreciated. Michelle, this is book number four! Boom.
Thanks to Ylva, for everything that went on in the background to make this book a reality.
DEDICATION
For Concha, an endless well of support in everything I do.
And my bringer of coffee.
CHAPTER 1
Hayden had to be up in four hours.
Four hours did not enough sleep make, and her eyes were burning. But after the stressful day she’d had, her brain wouldn’t shut down. At the end of a week of night shifts, her body was taking its time settling back into its normal rhythm, even after her first shift back in the land of the living today. For about a minute, she’d contemplated going for a run—as if—but instead had eaten an entire frozen pizza. Frank, her oversized fluff-ball of a cat, had judged her from his place on top of her DVD player where he’d sat, accruing all the heat. There’d been narrowed eyes and everything. So, in a cheese-and-bread coma, Hayden had watched a movie and waited for her eyes to get heavy.
And waited.
Eventually, she’d given up and gone to bed, in the hope it would lead to sleep.
It had not.
Which meant Hayden had been left with three options: go for that run (really, never gonna happen), stare at the ceiling and count water stains, or do what she usually did when she couldn’t sleep. She’d gone for option three, which consisted of trolling the Internet in the twilight hours of the morning. It was a pastime that bordered on embarrassing, but the strategy was one that almost never failed her.
She scrolled through Internet forums and advertisements to find the funniest. One guy was selling a goat he’d “accidentally” bought—Hayden wasn’t sure she wanted to ask questions there. The goat did look pretty cute. It was still a baby.
Frank would hate her.
That was almost enough to make Hayden click reply and ask for it, but the image of a clawed-up goat and an unforgiving Frank in her tiny New York City apartment gave her pause. She huffed and kept scrolling. That cat needed to stop ruling her life. She could barely afford to feed herself, yet here she was, with the same grizzled beast she’d adopted eight years ago.
Someone was looking for a woman he swore he’d had a connection with on the subway. Apparently there’d been a spark. Snorting, Hayden scrolled on.
Spark. Sure. That, or he was stalkerish, and the poor woman had actually been edging away.
Though, that wasn’t a fair thought. What if it had been love? Love that started on a dirty train car among all the germs and disdain? Did anyone ever find people on these missed connection posts? She opened another page, tapped a wrong button and watched the screen go black before opening up to her front camera. Looking back at her was the three-chinned version of herself that made her want to weep, even as she snorted. Front cameras were one of the worst inventions ever. Every time she turned it on, it was her face, looking like a thumb, that greeted her. She grinned to make herself look as hideous as possible and took the photo. Yup. She looked like a thumb. She sent it to her best friend with the caption: Luce—why am I single?
That would give Luce a laugh when they woke up.
Because Luce was most likely asleep, like Hayden should be.
It was now 3:21 a.m. This was getting ridiculous.
Exiting the messaging app, Hayden ended up at an empty browser page again. What was she doing? Oh. Yeah. She typed into the search bar do people actually find each other through missed connections. Her eyebrows rose. Whoa. There were a lot of hits. The first few articles listed announced that, yes, people did find each other that way. How romantic. And kind of gross. They could make a movie out of that crap.
She exited out of that page and went back to scrolling through junk posts. Some were clearly trolls:
For a small payment, I can clear your soul and ensure you reach your full potential!
That sounded creepy. And kind of like they were going to perform an exorcism.
Looking to trade my canoe for a shark, must not be full grown or have lasers on its head.
Sure.
Right person sought for a personal deal, will require at least one year of involvement, compensation promised.
Well, that was lacking the usual absurdity. Or details. Hayden’s thumb hovered over the link, the sound of her faucet dripping in her kitchen reaching her ears. The super ignored her complaints, and she had no cash herself to fix it. Compensation promised sounded pretty heavenly. She clicked the link.
The message made her roll her eyes.
What a waste of time.
Looking for a woman who is discreet and reliable and interested in a long-term commitment, one year minimum. Person sought to fulfil all legal requirements necessary for a valid marriage within the state of New York. Compensation will be more than reasonable and only payable once all components of deal are completed. However, upon confirmation of the agreement, a smaller payment will be given as a show of good faith.
One, a small payment before generous compensation? Was that a joke? Two, this was clearly utter crap. No one would seriously want a fake marriage and offer money. God, Hayden loved Craigslist. This was better than the goat.
Or maybe it wasn’t crap. Maybe someone needed a green card?
Though, with whatever money this was, if it were as generous as this person was hinting, Hayden would be able to afford the goat.
She laughed at herself, switched her phone off, and dumped it next to her bed.
Two hours of sleep, here she came.
~ ~ ~
All it took was five minutes of being in the hospital building for Hayden to walk into a doorway. She’d love to blame her tiredness, but it was an almost daily occurrence. Really, it was a good week if she managed to have a solitary bruise rather than several. And this one was definitely going to bruise. Rolling her eyes at herself, she rubbed the spot on her elbow. Seriously, ow. Whoever called it a funny bone could go to hell.
Once upon a time, in a different life, Hayden had studied so much anatomy her head had been left spinning with it all. You’d think it would have left her mor
e aware of her body, but still she walked into anything and everything.
People would be surprised how many parts of the body they could live without. There were twenty-six bones in your foot, and the fifty-two that made up both feet consisted of twenty-five percent of all the bones in the human body. People could lose up to two liters of blood before death. Sometimes a little more. But really, they hit shock before that.
As an emergency nurse, Hayden saw a lot of that.
Like, a lot.
The lights in the locker room were dim. It was barely seven, and handover was about to start. She needed to wake up so she’d be able to take in the huge info dump about the patients soon to be in her care.
Other people stood around, as bleary-looking as Hayden felt, pulling on scrubs and stuffing their pockets with flashlights, swabs, and anything else they usually needed. Someone laughed, and Hayden flinched. Who were these people that could function enough to laugh in the morning?
“You look like hell.”
Hayden sighed, smiling despite herself. Bloody Luce. “Thanks. That’s just what a person likes to hear in the morning.”
Blowing their bangs out of their eyes, Luce shrugged. “Yeah, well, I live for truth.”
Well, that was true. They were the most honest person Hayden knew. Some might say tactless, but once you got to know them, you realized it was a love for a lack of bullshit. Once, over beers, Luce had made a joke that they’d spent the first twenty-five years of their life bullshitting their gender and had used up all the bullshit they had to give. Hayden had choked on her beer as Luce had thrown their arms wide, declaring, “Look at all the shits I do not give! Alas, my non-binary field of shits is barren.” The bartender had cut the both of them off after that.
“I wouldn’t have you any other way. Ready for handover?”
Luce’s shoulders slumped. “Ugh. Yes. I suppose.”
Hayden bumped her arm against her best friend’s. “We can find coffee if we manage a break. Maybe at the cart with that cute coffee girl…”
Luce brightened considerably, a sly grin curling their lips up. “Well, if I must.”
“Oh. You must. For me.”
They sighed theatrically and pushed the double doors open to the emergency room. It was blissfully quiet. A rare thing. “You know, you really are selfish. But fine. For you, I shall.”
“You could just ask her out.”
“Don’t be silly. I have to stare wistfully at her for at least another six months.”
“Ah, yes, of course. The time-honored tradition of drooling from afar.” Hayden had that down pat. She had some courage, and could approach someone she was interested in if needed, but mostly it was all a bit too scary. Staring while hoping the other person made the first move usually worked best for her.
Except often the other person was doing that too, and so no one got anywhere.
At the emergency station, they both checked the board delegating who was where.
“Same beds as yesterday,” Hayden said. “I wonder what delights I’ll get today.”
“You had the two from that car crash yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Mhm.” It had been a long, long day. “They were transferred to surgery. My friend in ICU messaged me and said they’re both stable.”
“Well, Thomson was the surgeon on, so that’s not surprising.”
“Ugh.” Hayden made a disgusted face to match the noise she’d made. “Don’t remind me.” Hayden had had to deal with Samantha Thomson showing up and taking over the scene.
“Look,” Luce said, “she’s stone cold, but she’s the best neurosurgeon in the state.”
“More like the country. And she knows it.”
Luce snorted. “True. She’s got an ego.”
“And she’s rude.”
“What the hell happened to make you dislike her so much?”
“Well—”
“Ladies, are we keeping you?” They both turned on the spot, grimacing at the emergency coordinator and the team behind him, eyes shot red after their night shift and no doubt dying to go home and sleep. Or, for some, to go home and get their kids up for school. The coordinator winced. “Sorry, Nakano, folks. Not ladies.”
Luce gave him a salute. “No problem, Ben. We’re good to go.”
“Hayden.”
She froze as he turned his intense gaze onto her.
“You look like you need coffee more than us.”
“Doubtful, but close. I’m just still getting back into day shifts after last week’s nights.”
“Yeah, can’t wait for that in a few days.” His gaze swept over the rest of the day shift that trundled through the double doors. “All right, guys—er, people, your assignments are written up. Grab your nurse for handover, and I’ll be handing over to this morning’s coordinator, Blessing.”
Interesting to see Blessing was coordinating. She was a superstar, completely organized, and she rocked at handling difficult patients. Because of that, she often ended up on the floor rather than coordinating the shift. But Hayden wasn’t complaining. It was always a smoother day when she was running things.
Everyone started to disperse, Luce disappearing to the code team’s corner. Jealousy swirled up in Hayden’s chest. She loved being on the code team. Luce poked their tongue out at her, so Hayden pretended to be the more mature one and ignored the gesture.
She glanced at the board again and headed for Tasha, standing near one of the nurses’ stations with a pile of folders in front of her.
“Morning.”
Tasha gave a weary wave, somehow not looking as half-dead as most of the others. “Hey, Hayden. How was your night?”
“Better than yours, I’d wager.”
“It wasn’t so bad, actually. One arrest, but other than that, mostly smooth.” She pulled one of the files out. “Bed three has a homeless guy that was brought in. He’s sleeping it off. Once he’s awake, if you could do the usual—try getting him in the shower if you can. He hasn’t passed urine yet, BSL stable…”
Hayden sunk into the language she knew and understood better than English at times.
She had three of her four beds full, one ready to transfer out in bed four. Tasha, the goddess that she was, had already arranged everything for the transfer. All Hayden had to do was some intravenous antibiotics in twenty minutes. The homeless man was another story. Unfortunately, he was a regular through their doors and would refuse all help and discharge himself once he was awake. Hayden had met him once, and she might have some luck getting some of the mediocre hospital sandwiches into him and getting him into a shower beforehand. Maybe. The third patient, bed one, was an elderly woman, found by the nurses in her assisted-living facility in her bathroom, bleeding from a head wound. She had been dazed and confused, disoriented to time, place, and person, though according to the family member who came in, she was usually lucid. One of her pupils was bigger than the other, and she had a suspected brain bleed. They were waiting on the results from her scan, and she was on thirty-minute neurological observations.
“Neuro?” Hayden sighed and made her disgusted face again. “Ugh.”
“You don’t like neuro patients?” Tasha asked. After her detailed handover, she finally looked ready to fall asleep on her feet. Out of nowhere, though, she brightened, a gleam in her eye. “Oh, wait. I know. It means Dr. Thomson will be down.”
“Exactly.” Hayden tugged the folders over to herself, checking the medication charts and notes as per protocol so she could ask any questions or check any missed medications. It all meant she wouldn’t have to call Tasha later and wake her up. “Another patient shared with Thomson.”
And, yeah, okay, maybe neuro patients weren’t always her favorite.
A patient started yelling from the other side of the emergency room, and they both turned around. One of the other nurses bustled over, waving her hand in the general direction of everyone looking over to see if she needed help. Medical language for I’ve got this.
Tasha turned
back to Hayden. “You really don’t like her.”
“She’s rude.”
“She’s damn good at her job. And easy on the eyes.”
“I’ll tell your boyfriend.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Like he’d care. He thinks the same.”
“She’s, like, fifty.”
Okay, Hayden was exaggerating. And also didn’t want to agree that, yes, the rude surgeon was easy on the eyes. Surgeons’ egos could be big enough, especially neurosurgeons’, but Thomson’s rivalled any other she’d seen. And she was rude. In case Hayden hadn’t mentioned that.
“She is not fifty.” Tasha sounded as exasperated as she looked. “She’s, like, forty-two.”
“How do you know that?”
Hayden really needed to start her day. And stop gossiping.
“Pablo’s often her scrub nurse. He feeds me information. He also says she’s not that arrogant.”
“Your boyfriend is useful.”
“Oh, he’s more than that.” Tasha winked and Hayden straightened.
“Okay. Time for you to go home and enjoy that, then. And leave me to my sexless day.”
Tasha pouted. “He’s on day shift.”
“Oh, poor you. At least he’ll come home and make you dinner. I’m going home to a giant, angry cat.”
“How is Frank?”
“As cantankerous as ever. I love him.”
“Such a cat lady.”
“Yes, I am. Now go away. I’m busy.”
Hayden threw her a grin, and Tasha turned to leave, saying over her shoulder, “Have a good day. Enjoy Thomson! Maybe she’ll send a resident.”
“Here’s hoping.”
Hayden hugged the folders to her chest and looked around the room. Half the beds were full. But anything could happen in the next few hours. For now, it was strangely calm and qu—no, she couldn’t even think the Q word. Every nurse ever knew that it was cursed. Hayden didn’t even believe in that crap, but it was such a taboo that even she couldn’t say it.
The second someone said the Q word, the phones always started ringing off the hook, the patients kicked up, and the waiting room filled. And she was far too tired to deal with that today.
