Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cash
These past few weeks with Nori have been pure torture.
Watching her date a whole slew of unworthy men is driving me up the wall. I can’t stop thinking about her talking with them. Laughing with them. Doing stupid pottery and crushing grapes with them.
These guys probably hold doors open for her and pull out her chair. I’ll bet their hands brush “accidentally.” And sure, Nori tells me she hasn’t made a real connection with anyone. But still. She’s trying to. And at the end of this ridiculous promo, whether any one of these guys is meant for her or not, they want Nori to pick one of these dudes to be her match. She’s a hashtag now.
#whowillnorichoose.
I hate that campaign with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.
You think I’m exaggerating? Let me tell you what my days have been like since the Warren incident. I haul myself out of bed two hours before dawn after tossing and turning all night, because I swear I still smell Nori’s scent on my pillow and imagine her tangled in my sheets .
Which I have washed by now, for the record.
But the ghost of her lingers in my bed. In my sweats. In my heart.
So while it’s still dark out, I race to the hospital to be sure everything’s set up for any cases on my schedule. Then I head back to the building so I can casually be around and offer Nori a ride to work.
All this by six thirty a.m.
I’m exhausted.
After I drop Nori at the shop, I drive directly back to Mercy General or Springs Memorial or Worcester Medical, and I grind all day. I’m in and out of surgeries, talking to doctors, schmoozing nurses, being friendly to the entire support staff of every hospital.
If I have a night case, I slip out beforehand just so I can be the one who takes Nori home from the shop. A few times, my morning schedule was simply too packed, and she had to ride Red into work. On two of those occasions, I was there with my truck at the end of the day to cart her and the bike home.
In other words, I’m running myself ragged escorting Nori around town and taking care of her in subtle ways so she won’t recognize the effort. Because she’s made it clear she doesn’t want people taking care of her. And I respect that. I respect her . Still, I’ll be gone soon.
And in the meantime, I just want to be sure Nori’s okay.
As if my thoughts summoned her, she emerges from the Spring Valley Auto office now, waving her keys, a bright grin breaking over her face. I’m across the parking lot in my truck, engine humming. I offered to hang around to be sure she could actually drive the car home today. Of course I did.
At the sight of her, a smile tugs at my lips. She looks so happy, not to mention proud of herself—and she should be. I may despise the Spring Into Love promo, but it’s earned Nori the money to pay for the car repairs on her own. I just hope the old bucket of bolts lasts long enough to make the expense worth it.
She skips over to the driver’s side of my truck, and I lower the window.
“I did it!” she squeals, beaming at me. “Dorothy’s my perfect old girl again.”
I duck my head. “Good for you.”
“Thanks for waiting,” she says. “And for loaning me Red. Not to mention all the driving around you’ve fit in lately. I don’t think I could’ve managed any of this without you.”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “You would’ve figured something out.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her hazel eyes scanning my face. “You know what’s crazy?”
Something shifts behind my ribs. “What?”
“You believe in me more than I believe in me.” She huffs out a half laugh. “Definitely more than East does.”
As much as I love hearing her say this, it’s not entirely fair. “Yeah, well, your brother has decades of habit working against him. He remembers you as a kid. I’ve got the advantage of only knowing the adult Nori Sinclair.”
“Fair enough.” She cocks her head. “Whatever the reason, I’m starting to think you see me better than most people do.”
Hmmm. I guess I have been paying pretty close attention. And honestly, watching Nori in her element these past few weeks—with her coworkers at the shop and Hayden and Keeley at home—has been a reminder of exactly what I’ve been missing for years now. True connection. Human feelings, not just the rods and screws that piece broken people back together. I’ve got scars on the outside anyone can see, but I hide the real cracks from almost everyone else I meet.
Except for Nori.
Against my better judgment, I’ve shown her some of what lies underneath my surface, and that’s left me feeling raw. Exposed. Vulnerable. Like it might be time for me to move on. Literally.
Speaking of which, I haven’t told her yet that I’m moving to LA. I just couldn’t make the words come out. At first, I convinced myself the kind thing to do was wait until she secured the funding for her loan. After all, we’re not in some kind of goal competition. And I didn’t want to swoop in and meet mine before she reached hers. But the truth is, I don’t want Nori to pull away from me. And I’m afraid that’s exactly what’s going to happen once she knows I’m leaving. She’s the only new friend I’ve made in a while.
We’re a whole hand now.
And I’m not ready for her to let go.
“Are you heading back home?” she chirps.
Home.
The word chips a piece of my heart off like a pickaxe. “Yep,” I grunt, ignoring the throb behind my ribs.
“Well, I’m starving.” She grins, pretty big for someone who’s hungry. “Want to order some takeout? My treat.”
“No way you’re paying for my dinner,” I protest. “You just spent a boatload getting your car running again.”
“Fine. Something cheap, then. Like pizza.”
“I like pepperoni and olive.” I shrug. “Does Aria deliver?”
She puffs out a laugh. “Aria is one block away from The Serendipity. We could just walk there.”
“I’m feeling lazy.”
“You know what?” She tips her head. “Being lazy tonight actually sounds pretty wonder?—”
My phone starts chiming in the cupholder. Nori’s eyes dart down to the name on the screen, and my heartbeat revs. It’s Sandra Fulsome calling.
Awful timing, Sandy .
“Hey, there,” I say, taking the call and resenting the poor woman unfairly.
“Dr. Arnold needs you in here now.” Her words spill out fast and urgent. “It’s the kid who dove into the pool.”
Travis.
The twelve-year-old from a few weeks ago with the fractured C1, C2. Technically, I’m not supposed to remember anything about the patients I see, but even after I’ve crossed their names off the billing records, the details stick with me. Maybe this is because I used to be the patient too. But I can’t help thinking about who they are. Who they were. Who they might still become after their surgeries.
“What happened?” The tightness in my chest increases and bile rises in my throat.
“He’s got an infection we can’t figure out. Dr. Arnold has to open him up, and we might need to replace some of the implants.”
I swallow hard. “Is it bad?”
“It’s not good,” she grits out.
“Tell Dr. Arnold I’m on my way.”