10
Zander
Overworked Equals Spying
I SAT NURSING MY FOURTH CUP OF coffee in the staffroom.
I’d completed two minor surgeries today and still had one to go. At least it was a simple keyhole on a forty-year-old man’s knee. He’d suddenly taken up football as part of his goal to get fit and popped a ligament because he’d broken the cardinal rule of not preparing his not-used-to-exercise body before thinking he was the next David Beckham.
After that, I could go home and rest.
And spy on Sailor .
I scowled at my half-empty cup. Somehow, I’d gone from catching glimpses of her in the window to actively searching for her across the fence. I couldn’t rest worrying about her over there on her own, especially seeing as she hadn’t left her house in over a week.
She had food delivered, groceries delivered, and yesterday, a huge van had turned up with two men who’d unloaded boxes and paint buckets, hauling them around to the back deck.
I recognised the supplies as tools for a renovation, which made sense seeing as Sailor hadn’t updated a single room of Melody’s place. However, the fact that she’d jumped into the project right now? It worried me.
Groaning, I yanked my glasses off and buried my face in my hands.
Not your place, Zan. How many times do I need to say this!
I’d repeated that phrase so often that it’d become a fucking mantra at this point. Yet it didn’t stop the incessant urge to check on her.
The way she ran away from me repeated in my mind. I didn’t know what caused such a reaction, but I had no intention of making matters worse by going over there unwanted.
But what if she’s spiralling?
What if no one helped her before it was too late and—
“Fuck it.” Snatching my phone from my pocket, I logged into my home security cameras. Two days ago, I’d angled the cameras to stop recording my front and back door to record hers instead. I felt disgustingly seedy for pointing a video feed at Sailor’s home, but not enough to stop myself.
I’d checked with the local police that her ex was still locked up, but I couldn’t erase the concern that he’d get out soon and finish what he started.
Inputting the password, I sucked on my bottom lip as the feed refreshed and showed me her house etched in buttery yellow, thanks to the afternoon sun.
No movement. Nothing for the sensors to narrow in on.
Dammit, what are you doing?
If anyone caught me spying on her, I’d be in just as much trouble as Milton.
The door to the staffroom swung open as a nurse I’d seen around but hadn’t spoken to shuffled in wearily. Her eyes lit up on the fresh coffee pot, and she gave me a smile that widened as she looked me up and down.
My stomach knotted. I couldn’t spy on my neighbour with someone else in the room. Giving her a half smile back, I put my glasses on and went to log off.
Only…the cameras suddenly sensed motion and zoomed in automatically as Sailor stepped onto the back deck and tipped her face to the sky. Dressed in paint-splattered jeans and a grey t-shirt, she’d wrapped a flower-printed handkerchief around her head with her sandy blonde hair in a high ponytail.
Thanks to the high resolution of the camera—that’d cost a fortune but delivered exactly the quality I’d been promised—I could almost count the bruises marking her bare arms. Her black eye looked particularly dark, and the way she took a shuddering breath and shook out her hands as if forcing herself to shed some heavy emotion hinted that all my fears were warranted.
She’s not okay.
“You’re Dr North, right?”
Exhaling heavily, I clicked off my phone and looked up. The nurse smiled and sat across from me at the large round table, sipping her coffee. “Alexander North?”
“Zander,” I corrected, then forced myself to grin. “And you are…?”
“Elisabeth. I’m usually in paediatrics but was sent to help in the ER.”
“That reminds me.” I glanced at my watch. “I better get back.”
“Oh, okay.” Her shoulders deflated.
I stood and looked down at her.
And felt nothing.
No reaction—visceral or sexual, friendly or interested. She was pretty with an empty wedding finger, yet I couldn’t have cared less. With big dark eyes, sleek brown braid, and a muscular form that said she’d be sought after in the ER when manhandling unruly or unconscious patients, all I could see was my goddamn neighbour.
Her eyes lingered on mine, simmering with a familiar look.
I recognised her signals of interest and invitation. Reacting to that invitation might be exactly what the doctor ordered. I desperately needed to learn how to balance a love life as well as my career. But the thought of kissing this pretty girl, of getting to know her and falling into bed together…all I seemed to want was another.
Fuck, I have got to get myself together.
“Enjoy your break,” I said softly.
Not waiting for her to reply, I headed toward the sink, washed my cup, placed it on the draining board, and slipped back into the chaos of healing.
* * * * *
Eight p.m. and I still hadn’t gone home. My last routine surgery went well, but I’d been roped into helping with a few emergencies. I’d decided to stick around just in case anyone needed anything else so I didn’t have the nightmare of being called back later.
Resting in the staffroom, trying to ignore the persistent hunger pains growling in my stomach, I turned on my phone and noticed the security camera app was still open.
I went to turn it off, but the feed zoomed in on Sailor sitting in the centre of her wild garden. Illuminated by the hundreds of fairy lights strung in the citrus trees ringing the flower beds, she looked part fairy herself. She held something in her hands, and every now and again, she swiped at her cheeks as if brushing away tears.
My chest grew tight.
I looked past her to the back door of her house, hoping Lily was around and would gather Sailor in a hug or at least offer an ear to share whatever worries were hurting her.
But no one appeared.
She was all alone, in the dark, crying.
And that’s about as much as I can fucking take.
My hands curled around my phone. Anger splintered through me.
Logging out of the camera feed, I pocketed my phone and headed to Colin’s office, where I stored my personal things while on shift. Grabbing my satchel and keys, I powered through the hospital, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. By sheer luck of the universe, I escaped into the muggy night without being dragged into another emergency.
My black Chrysler beeped as I cut across the car park and pressed the key fob. It roared to life as I threw myself inside and burned unprofessionally fast onto the street.
Every part of me tugged to go home. To sneak over the fence and be that shoulder Sailor needed to cry on. Screw all my previous failures with helping psychologically damaged people. She was hurting. She obviously hadn’t reached out to Dr Klep. She hadn’t confided in her best friend. And she ran away from me as her neighbour.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was hiding her true feelings. And the longer she got away with it and built a false facade, the harder it would be to shatter it.
Not gonna let you spiral, Sailor. Melody would never forgive me.
At the intersection where I usually turned left toward home, I flicked on my indicator and went right. A stupid plan unravelled in my head. A plan that meant I could help her without her knowing it was me. A plan where I became her confessional instead of the guy next door—or the doctor who’d seen her in such a broken state.
Careening into the large department store’s car park, I locked up and headed inside.
It didn’t take long to find what I was after.
I grabbed the first cell phone I came across. Nothing fancy. I just needed it to be able to send and receive messages. As a bonus, it came preloaded with a SIM card and data.
I paid cash.
If I was going to do this, I wanted nothing tying me to an irrational, crazy idea all because I’d made a vow to an old woman and only now decided to honour it.
I strangled my steering wheel the entire trip back; I pulled up outside my house with chaos churning through me. This felt wrong. This felt seedy.
Yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself as I killed the engine and sat there in the night.
Ember Drive was quiet and hushed, people already in bed or preparing to. With suddenly shaking fingers, I tore open the cell phone box, booted up the new device, and put in a bunch of Xs as fake credentials to get it operational.
Scanning the prepaid SIM information, I went to save the number into my phone under her name, but froze.
What the fuck am I doing?
This was shady as hell…wasn’t it?
I mean, I’d bought a burner phone so I could message her without her knowing it was me, all in the idiotic hope that she’d trust a faceless, nameless stranger after being almost beaten to death.
You’re the dumbest fool alive.
Slamming my head back against the headrest, I groaned.
This was a new low.
I’d let every protective, nurturing part of me run wild.
I wasn’t qualified to help Sailor get through this. I had absolutely no business meddling in her affairs, especially hidden behind a wall of invisibility.
And yet…
Removing my glasses, I scrubbed my face. I couldn’t get the image of her crying—alone and in the dark—out of my mind. She looked so small. So lost. If Melody was here, she’d know what to do. She’d boss me around on how best to help. She wouldn’t even need my help because Melody would know exactly what to say to her granddaughter and how to make her heal.
But she’s not here anymore.
Guess you’re doing this then.
Gritting my teeth, I typed the new number into my phone and saved it under LL.
LL for Little Lor.
Her nickname gifted by Rory, her grandfather, and a name I’d often heard dancing on the breeze as he played with her in the back garden.
Opening a new message on my own phone, I hovered my thumbs over the screen. It took far too long to figure out what to type. I deleted so many sentences with a scoff and a sneer. I wanted to tell her I knew she’d suffered. That I knew why she was crying, and she could talk to me.
But that would hint at who I was.
In the end, I settled for simple.
Simple or creepy, I could no longer tell.
I pressed send; the other phone buzzed with the message, waiting to be read.
Wiping it down on my shirt—fulfilling my destiny as some criminal mastermind who thought removing his fingerprints could pretend he wasn’t stepping over a line—I climbed out of my car and walked warily to Sailor’s letterbox.
It matched mine in every way.
Unlike the overhaul I’d done to my place, I’d left the letterbox alone. Our two properties shared a mirroring gingerbread house mailbox that our two grandmothers had made the first week they’d moved in.
I’d heard my gran tell the story a hundred times. How they’d sanded wood and hammered nails and took turns to paint rows of pretty flowers on the sloping roof. The pink-and-purple numbers had faded enough to require fresh paint multiple times over the years, and in the end, Rory had lacquered both of them so the sun and rain didn’t destroy the legacy of two friends.
The back of my neck prickled as I placed the phone without the box or paperwork inside. It sat there like a black brick, sinister and judging me.
Glancing into her windows, I didn’t spot Sailor watching, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen. I just hoped like hell my unethical attempt at helping didn’t backfire colossally in my face.