Page 44 of Hold the Pickle
Although maybe I acted like one tonight.
“Do you want me to talk to Sonya?” I say it with some trepidation. I don’t want to, but then I can’t have my awful night make things worse for him. “I can assure her I’m not anyone important to you.”
His face looks pained. “No, no. She’s just a nurse I know.” He waves it away.
My phone beeps. It’s a text from Max.
I read it quickly. “He needs to take Camryn home. He wants to know if my roommate, all caps, will get me to the apartment.” I let out a long gust of air. Of course they know now. “You told them?”
Dalton sighs. “Yeah, I’m afraid I let that cat out of the bag. I didn’t know you hadn’t said anything.”
“Probably a fair trade for my secret catinthe bag. I’ll have to deal with it later.” I text Max that I’m good and to go home, and set the phone down.
“My car’s illegally parked at Aces, but we can call for a ride home,” Dalton says.
“What did you do with your poor Jeep?”
“I may or may not have driven onto the sidewalk.”
“You’re going to get towed!”
“Possibly.”
I sit back against the pillow. He was worried. He cares about me. Still, something about Sonya niggles at me. She seemed to expect that he was single, and something about what she saw suggested that he wasn’t.
“I’m guessing no one knows you have a roommate, either? A female one?”
He rubs his neck again. “It hasn’t come up.”
A man in scrubs strolls in like it’s a house party, his shoulders rolling like he’s vibing to music only he can hear. “Dr. D, didn’t expect to see you here.”
Dalton smiles. “Nadia, this is Joaquin. Best IV guy in the ER. This is my roommate Nadia.”
“I’ve heard.” He expertly pulls the IV, adhesive and all, so quickly and painlessly that I don’t realize it’s gone until he’s taped a cotton ball on my arm. “Everyone thinks you have a secret piece, and that’s why you haven’t taken out anyone on the floor.”
My head whips to Dalton. “Secret piece?”
“I can’t help what they say,” Dalton says. “Let’s get you sitting up.” He presses into my back until I’m forward off the pillow. “How does that feel? No return of the nausea?”
I shake my head.
“Swing your legs around slowly. Let’s make sure you’re steady.”
“Looks like you’ve got this, Dr. D. When’s your next shift?”
“About twenty hours.”
“Get some shut-eye. I’ll see you on the flip side.” Joaquin rolls the IV out of the space.
My head is whirling with everything that’s happened, from the fighters, to the sickness, the ride with Dalton in the ambulance, and now, realizing he’s a hot commodity at work and he’s not taking anyone up on it.
“Socks on the floor,” he says. “Let’s give standing a go, then we’ll get your shoes back on.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but when I shift my weight off the bed, my legs feel like Jell-O. I clutch Dalton’s arms. “Or maybe not.”
“You need some food. Wait here. I’ll wheel you out.” He sets me back on the bed.
While he’s gone, I move the plastic bag with my dirty cardigan to my lap and set my tiny crossbody bag on top of it.
