Page 54 of Hold the Pickle
“Yeah.”
She stabs a bite of pie. “Take some leftovers for your break.”
It’s as if none of this ever happened. The conversation, the touch, the spark, the almost-kiss.
I want to address it. Talk about the elephant in the room.
But Nadia drags one of her romance novels toward her. She doesn’t hide the title.Random Acts of Crazyby Julia Kent.
But we’re doing the opposite of that. Random acts of self-control.
I guess it’s for the best.
I stand up and head to the cabinets for a container.
Did we miss out on something spectacular?
Or did we get saved from a huge mistake?
17
NADIA
On Saturday morning, Dalton stumbles into the apartment after his shift, dead on his feet.
I’m eating yogurt at the bar, and my eyebrows lift as I watch him drag himself to the dresser for clothes. He usually showers first thing when he gets in. “Rougher night than usual?”
“Yeah. Ten-car pileup. We got about half of the casualties.”
My stomach turns. “That’s terrible.”
“It was grim.” His expression tells me that not everybody made it.
“I’m so sorry, Dalton. Is that the hardest part of the job?”
“Telling family that we failed to save someone they love? Might be. I don’t do that part yet, but I am expected to be in the room.”
I set down my spoon. “That’s hard.”
He leans against the wall by the bathroom door. “In the moment of trying to help them, you don’t think about it. You’re following a protocol. But when that adrenaline drops…” He runs his hand over his eyes.
“Get a shower. Then some sleep. I’m going to walk the neighborhood since it’s not as hot today.”
He nods. “Good. Sunshine helps.” He gives a lopsided half-smile, even if the pain is still in his eyes. “It’s scientifically proven.” There’s a catch in the last word, as if the effort of being even slightly funny is too much.
Cattarina comes out from under the bed and stands a few feet away. Maybe she senses his distress.
“Look at that,” he says. “I might be winning her over.”
“You might.”
He heads into the bathroom. I toss my yogurt container and bend to pet Cattarina. “You should be friendly with Dalton. He’s one of the good ones.”
She lifts her nose so I can scratch under her chin. “I’ll be back in a while.”
The day is bright and sunshiny. My ponytail swishes against my back as I take off down the street. I planned to listen to an audiobook, but there are so many people about, watering grass, walking their dogs, and being friendly that I decide to live in the moment, waving and saying hello.
I reach a pocket park and cut across it, enjoying the trees and the squeak of playground equipment, empty at this hour but shifting in the breeze.
