Page 45 of Hold the Pickle
I’m going to need some food, some sleep, and a much clearer head to sort through all the fallout from this disaster of a night. My cousin knows about my roommate. My roommate had to save me.
And for some reason, everyone except the two of us seems to think there is something going on.
But as Dalton returns with a wheelchair and carefully lowers me into it, I start to think—maybe I called the right person after all.
14
DALTON
Ido not get a full eight hours of sleep before I have to return to the hospital for work.
But Nadia is home and comfortable. I was able to keep checking on her and make sure we didn’t miss anything in the ER.
And I slept some, a handful of hours.
Catzilla curls up behind Nadia’s knees as I ease the door open to leave for an overnight shift. “Watch over her,” I whisper to the kitty.
The cat lifts her head to acknowledge me, then sets it down again.
I stand in the open doorway, taking a moment to look over the space. The kitchen is softly lit by the bulb over the sink, sending a glow that almost, but not quite, reaches the bed.
Nadia’s hair is spilled over her arms, only her face visible above the ruffled edge of her blue comforter. Catzilla’s ears twitch as if she’s annoyed I’m still there.
It’s a peaceful scene compared to the chaos of the bar, then the hospital. We took an Uber to my car, which thankfully hadn’t been towed or even ticketed yet, and came home.
If we were going to have a first disaster together, at least this one resolved easily enough.
I quietly close the door.
When I arrive at South General, Farraday, who was the attending with Nadia last night, is on his way home.
“You have your hands full with that one,” he says, slamming his locker closed.
“She’s just a roommate.”
“That you literally gave your shirt for.” He shrugs out of his white coat.
“I thought she’d been drugged.”
Farraday shoulders his bag. “She’s lucky she wasn’t. Or else there’s something else out there that doesn’t show on a panel.”
“She’s not a big drinker. She had a lot. I think she was pressured by some new companions.”
“Shitty companions.”
“Probably.” I do have a bone to pick with her cousin, but I’m not going to tell Farraday that.
“See you around.” He heads out of the room.
Harrington peeks around the row of metal lockers, only his buzzed black hair and glasses visible. “What’s going on?”
Right. My intern group has been off, so they haven’t caught up on the latest news.
I reach for my badge and tug it off the hook. “Nothing important.”
Fitz, short for Fitzsimmons, a perennially sunny intern from SoCal, drops onto the bench. She pulls off her cap to an explosion of blond curls. “I heard Sonya is fit to be tied that Dalton here has a live-in when she planned to sink her talons into him.”
That was fast. “How did you hear that?”
