Chapter 8
REID
"Ican't believe you've never been to Hendricks Park," I say, practically walking backward so I can watch Laine look around like she's seeing something amazing instead of just a bunch of trees and walking paths. "This is criminal. You've been here how long?"
"I've driven past it, but I never had a reason to stop." She's got her hands shoved in her jacket pockets, and her cheeks are pink from the cool air. "It's beautiful."
She's beautiful.
"Wait until you see the rhododendron garden. It's not the right season for blooms, but the layout is pretty incredible."
"You're like a tour guide."
"I'm trying to impress you with my local knowledge." I spent twenty minutes on Wikipedia this morning memorizing flower facts. I sure as hell didn't know what a rhododendron was before today. But I didn't want to come off like a clueless meathead. "Is it working?"
She grins and bumps my shoulder with hers. "Maybe a little."
"I'll take maybe." I bump her back. "By the end of this walk, I'm shooting for 'moderately impressed.'"
We've been walking for about twenty minutes, and I keep finding excuses to stay close to her.
Help her over a fallen log that she could have easily stepped over herself.
Point out a bird that requires me to lean in and talk quietly—I have no idea what kind of bird it is, but I'm committed to the bit now.
Touch her elbow to steer her around a muddy patch.
Stupid shit, but she doesn't seem to mind.
I'm like a golden retriever who found his favorite person. It's a little embarrassing, honestly.
But, I can't fucking stop.
"So," Laine says, "tell me more about this house you and Blake are fixing up. You mentioned it the other morning but didn't give me details."
"It's a 1920s craftsman, about ten minutes outside town.
Previous owners let it go to hell, but the bones are good.
" I'm already getting excited talking about it—I can't help it.
The house is going to be amazing when we're done.
At the rate we're going, though, we'll both be in our fifties by then.
"Original hardwood floors under all this ugly carpet.
A fireplace that Blake says is worth more than my truck. The works."
"What kind of work are you doing?"
"Everything. Plumbing, electrical, painting, landscaping.
" I kick at a pinecone on the path, sending it skittering into the trees.
"Blake handles most of the detailed stuff—he's got an eye for that kind of thing.
I'm better at the grunt work. Demolition, hauling, holding things while Blake tells me I'm holding them wrong. "
"Sounds like a huge project."
"It is. But it's nice, you know? Working with your hands, seeing things come together." I glance at her. "Plus I get to swing a sledgehammer, which is very therapeutic. I highly recommend it."
"You guys really are a team."
"He's family. We've been through a lot together."
Laine's lips curve into a small smile. "It's nice that you have that. A lot of people don't have anyone they can really count on."
"What about you? Anyone you can count on?"
She's quiet for a moment, thinking about it. "My parents are amazing. If I needed them they'd drop everything. But they're halfway around the world most of the time. Bethany, maybe, but we're..." She pauses. "We're different people than we used to be."
Bethany. The temporary nurse. "Different how?"
"She's all about going out, having fun. She's not big into responsibility. And I used to be great with that. But since I moved here, I'm wanting different things."
Before I can figure out how to respond to that, my phone buzzes. I ignore it, but then it buzzes again. And again.
"You should probably get that," Laine says.
I pull out my phone and see Danny's name on the screen. "Sorry, let me just..."
"Reid? Thank god." Danny sounds stressed as hell. "Are you busy right now?"
Yeah. I really am. I'm busy charming the prettiest girl I've ever met. "Kind of. What's going on?"
"I'm in a bind with the outreach tonight.
Cervantes was supposed to help with medical stuff—blood pressure checks, medication refills, basic care—but his kid's sick.
And Lisa just bailed on me too. I've got forty people expecting us at Pine Street camp in an hour, and I'm down to just me and one other volunteer. "
Shit. Danny runs a homeless outreach program downtown, and I help out when I can. Usually it's distributing food and basic medical care—blood pressure checks, wound cleaning, connecting people with services.
"These folks are counting on us, man. Some of them haven't seen a medical person in months. I need someone who knows what they're doing."
I look at Laine, who's standing a few feet away pretending not to listen but obviously hearing every word. We've been planning this afternoon for two days. I finally get time alone with her, flowers memorized, route planned, the whole thing. And now...
Come on, universe. Give me a break here.
"Man, I'm actually on a date right now."
"Shit, sorry. I didn't know. Maybe I can call around, see if anyone else is free."
"What's going on?" Laine asks quietly.
I cover the phone. "Friend of mine runs homeless outreach. They do regular medical care—blood pressure checks, wound cleaning, that kind of thing. He's short-staffed for tonight."
"Tell him we'll be right there."
"What?"
Her brow furrows, and she puts her hand on my arm. "Tell him we're coming. I'm a nurse, you're a Paramedic. Sounds like they need us."
"You sure? This wasn't exactly what I had planned for our afternoon."
"Reid." She gives me a look. "People are counting on getting care tonight. Of course I'm sure."
I stare at her for a second. Most people would be disappointed about changing plans, maybe offer to help another time, rain check, we'll figure it out. But she's already mentally switched gears, thinking about what needs to be done instead of what she's missing out on.
Something shifts in my gut. Clicks into place.
I really fucking like her. Like really like her.
"You still there?" Danny asks.
"Yeah, man. Change of plans. I'm bringing backup. We'll meet you at the camp in an hour."
"Seriously? You're a lifesaver. Thank you!"
I hang up and look at Laine. "You know this means spending our date giving flu shots and checking blood pressure in a homeless camp, right?"
"Sounds perfect to me."
And the crazy thing is, she means it. She's smiling like I just offered to take her somewhere amazing instead of completely derailing our afternoon.
"We should probably stop by your place so you can change clothes," I say.
"Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
I look at her jeans and nice sweater, her clean sneakers. "Nothing. But you might want something you don't mind getting dirty." The people who live at the encampment try their best to keep clean, but no running water combined with dirt and scrub brush means it's nearly impossible to do.
"I shop at thrift stores. Everything I'm wearing cost less than our breakfast the other morning. Besides, I'm a nurse. I've been vomited on, bled on, and worse. Trust me, I can handle whatever we're walking into."
Right. Of course she can.
"My truck's back at the parking lot," I say.
"What are we waiting for," she says, turning, and heading in the opposite direction of the truck. Hiding a smile, because how fucking cute is she, I cup her elbow and steer her in the right direction. Her cheeks get a little pinker, and she gives me a little shoulder bump.
"I don't always have the best sense of direction," she admits, wincing. "At least, not out in places like this. Put me in the center of Kuala Lumpur and I can get anywhere. But the trees and the dirt... it all looks the same."
"That's very cosmopolitan of you. I, meanwhile, would be completely lost in Kuala Lumpur."
"You'd be fine. You'd just make friends with everyone and they'd help you."
She's not wrong. "Okay, new deal. You follow my lead out here, and if we ever end up in a big city together, you're in charge. Division of labor."
"Deal."
She grins up at me, and for a second, all I can think is: Mine.
Whoa. Down, boy.
Shake it the fuck off. The last thing I need to do is go caveman on her. I don't want to chase her away by being a possessive weirdo on our second date.
"You do this kind of thing often?" she asks.
"Walk in the woods with beautiful, directionally challenged women? Can't say that I do."
She laughs again, and it's warm, and hits me right in the gut. "You're funny. Volunteer, I mean."
"Oh, that. Yeah, maybe once a month when he needs extra hands. You?"
"Yep. I like getting outside the hospital sometimes."
"Even on your day off?"
"Especially on my day off. Hospitals can be..." She pauses, thinking. "Reactive, I guess. People come to us when something's already wrong. This kind of work is more about preventing problems before they start."
We reach my truck, and I open the passenger door for her. "You know, most people would be annoyed about changing plans last minute."
"Are you annoyed?" she asks, climbing in.
"No. The opposite, actually."
"Then why would I be? We're still spending time together. We're just doing something useful while we do it. I mean, I love flowers, but they all kind of look the same after a while, don't they?"
"I thought it was just me!"
The Pine Street camp is tucked under a highway overpass about ten minutes from downtown.
Not the prettiest spot, but it's dry and out of the wind.
About a dozen tents and makeshift shelters, people starting to gather as Danny's van pulls up.
I recognize a few faces from previous visits—Marcus with his Army jacket, Linda with her three cats, old Pete who always wants to talk about the Mariners.
Danny's already there when we pull up, unloading supplies from a beat-up van with "Community Outreach" painted on the side.