Chapter 38 #2
"They're fine. Same as always." Mom's latest email was about a new water filtration system they're installing and Dad included photos of the clinic's new roof. Normal parent stuff, if your parents are medical missionaries.
Joyce waits. She's good at waiting which today is all kinds of annoying.
"It's..." I start, then stop. How do I explain this without sounding pathetic? My boyfriend's roommate doesn't like me. That's it. That's the whole stupid problem that's turning me into this dim version of myself.
"Relationship stuff?" Joyce guesses gently.
I must make some kind of face because she nods.
"Reid and I are great," I say quickly. "He's wonderful. He's—we're really good together."
"But?"
But his best friend hates me and I'm walking on eggshells in what should be a safe space and I don't know how much longer I can pretend everything's fine.
"It's complicated," I say finally.
Joyce takes a sip of her coffee, considering. "You know what I've noticed about you, Laine? You're a fixer. Someone's in pain, you fix it. Problem needs solving, you solve it. It's what makes you such a good nurse."
"Thanks?"
"But some things can't be fixed by trying harder." She leans forward slightly. "Sometimes trying harder makes it worse."
Yeah. She's definitely psychic. "I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do." Her voice is still gentle but there's steel underneath. "You're dimming yourself, honey. Whatever's going on, you're making yourself smaller to deal with it. And that's not sustainable."
God, she cuts right to the heart of it, doesn't she?
"I'm not—" But I can't finish the sentence because she's right.
I am making myself smaller. Quieter. Less likely to trigger Blake's coldness or the horrible, horrible things he says.
I made a few excuses to avoid going over there since he blew up at me, but I still had to sit through one evening with Blake.
He didn't say anything mean. He barely acknowledged me.
And I still felt like I was going to throw up the whole time.
"Can I ask you something?" Joyce doesn't wait for an answer. "When you're with Reid, just the two of you, how do you feel?"
"Happy." That's easy. "Like myself. We laugh and talk and it's just... easy."
Joyce takes a sip of her coffee. "You know Reid talks to me when he drops off patients, right? The man doesn't have an internal monologue. Everything's external."
I smile a little. "I know."
"He talks about you like you hung the moon," Joyce says. "But he also talks about his house. And that roommate. The woodworker he served with."
My stomach tightens. I stare at the swirl of cream in my cup.
"He makes it sound like a package deal," Joyce observes quietly, her eyes sharp.
"The three of you. He thinks it's this big, happy, blended family.
But I've been around long enough to know those transitions are rarely smooth.
" She leans forward slightly. "So I'll ask again.
When you're at his place... with the roommate. .. how do you feel?"
I hesitate. I don't want to say it out loud. If I say it out loud, it makes it real.
And of course, Joyce picks up on it.
"Different?" she prompts.
"His roommate—Blake—and I don't really click." Understatement of the year. "Blake's... he's been through a lot. Military stuff, like Reid. He's not great with new people."
Her brow furrows. ”How long have you been dating Reid?"
“Five months."
"That's not very new anymore."
No. It's not. Not at all.
"He just needs more time," I hear myself say. The same thing Reid always says.
Joyce sets down her cup with a soft click. "Laine, can I be direct with you?"
"Do you know how to be anything other than direct?"
That gets a small smile. "Fair point. Okay, here it is: In healthy relationships, you don't have to monitor yourself constantly. You don't have to make yourself smaller. You don't have to walk on eggshells in your boyfriend's home."
"It's not Reid's fault—"
She makes a low sound. Not dismissive. Patient.
"I didn't say it was. But honey, whatever the dynamic is there, it's affecting you.
I can see it. You're not singing in the supply closet anymore.
You're not telling your terrible jokes. You're going through the motions perfectly, but the spark is missing.
" She raises a brow. "Unless I'm totally off the mark and something else is bothering you? "
My stomach’s churning, but I take a sip of coffee anyway, just to buy myself time. Don't puke. Don't puke.
"You're bang on the mark as usual Joyce." My head hurts. "Blake's not a bad person," I say quietly. "He helps at the Pine Street camp, works with veterans. He's just..."
"Cruel to you?” It’s a question, but she hit the nail on the head again. Blake is cruel. Cutting. Hateful.
But I don’t want to tell her that.
"Not cruel. Just..." I trail off, thinking about the truck. Thinking about him telling me I'm just playing house. That was cruel. There's no other word for it. So why do I want to keep defending him? "He's honest. He thinks I'm bad for Reid, and he makes sure I know it."
"Bad for him? You?" Joyce scoffs. "That man needs glasses."
"He thinks I'm temporary. A flight risk." Those words are still like little daggers. That's not me. It hasn't been in months. I'm in this thing. I'm fighting for it.
Or I was. I'm tired. Really tired.
Joyce is quiet for a moment. Then, "Has Reid noticed how Blake treats you?"
And there it is. The thing I've been avoiding even thinking about.
"I've mentioned it. He thinks Blake just needs time to warm up. That he's protective." I try to smile. "You know how guys are. They don't always see the subtle stuff."
"Mmm." Joyce's expression says she's not buying it. I'm having a hard time too. "Have you tried talking to Blake directly? Without Reid there?"
I let out a short, sharp laugh. "Once. Last week. My car died and he gave me a ride."
Her eyebrows raise. "And?"
"And it ended with him yelling at me to get out of his truck."
Joyce's eyebrows shoot up. "He kicked you out?"
"He said there's no version of this that works. That I need to go." I wrap my hands around the warm coffee cup, trying to stop them from shaking. "So, no. I don't plan on being alone with him again. I've learned my lesson."
"Honey..." Joyce frowns. "That level of hostility? That's not normal roommate friction. That's something else."
She's right, but what else could it be? Maybe he's dealing with his own stuff—PTSD, depression, something Reid hasn't told me about. Maybe my presence reminds him of a painful time in his past. Maybe he's worried I'll take Reid away from him.
There could be a hundred reasons why Blake acts this way. And I don’t see any way to figure out what’s really going on. Because I don’t plan to be alone with him anytime soon. The man’s words cut deep, and I'm still trying to heal from the last interaction.
"I should get back," I say, standing up. "Thanks for the coffee. And the talk."
Joyce stands too, but she's not done. "Laine, I'm going to say one more thing and then I'll leave it alone."
I wait, even though I really don't want to hear it. She's going to tell me what I already know. That I'm on a sinking ship, and at some point, I'm going to have to save myself.
"You deserve to be with someone who sees when you're being hurt. Who believes you when you tell them something's wrong. Who protects your light."
The words hit me in the chest. Because Reid does see my light—he tells me all the time how much he loves my energy, my brightness. He just doesn't see how that light flickers and dies around Blake.
Or maybe he doesn't want to see it.
"I know," I whisper. This isn't what I imagined for myself, and my life. This isn't the version of myself I want to be.
But changing it means losing someone I love. And I don't know if I can do it.
But I also don't know if I can survive this way for much longer. Blake was right when he said one of us is going to crack.
And I'm afraid it's going to be me.
Joyce pulls me into a quick hug. She smells like coffee and the lavender lotion she always uses. Safe. Maternal. All the things I miss about my mom being thousands of miles away.
"You're stronger than you think," she says into my hair. "Don't forget that."
I nod against her shoulder, then pull back. "I really do need to get back. The teenager in seven probably needs another bag of fluids."
"Go. But Laine? My door's always open. Literally. I never lock it, which drives day shift crazy crazy."
That gets a small smile out of me. The first real one all day.
I head back to the ER floor, trying to shake off the conversation. But Joyce's words keep echoing: You deserve someone who sees when you're being hurt.
Reid sees me. I know he does. He just seems to be blind when it comes to Blake.
The teenager in seven is indeed ready for another bag of saline. I go through the motions—check the IV site, hang the new bag, update the chart. But my mind's elsewhere.
What would happen if I tried harder with Blake? If I found some way to break through whatever wall he's put up? Maybe I haven't been trying the right approach. Maybe I've been too passive, letting him set all the terms.
Or maybe I'm doing exactly what Joyce warned about—trying to fix something that can't be fixed by trying harder. Which feels so wrong. Everything else in my life, I figured it out. Nursing school, navigating new social rules in every place we moved to when I was a kid. I'm a figure it out person.
"Excuse me?" The teenager's looking at me. "Is it supposed to burn?"
Crap. I immediately check the IV site. It's fine, just positional. I adjust her arm and the burning stops.
"Better?"
"Yeah. Sorry, I've never had an IV before."
"No apologies necessary. That's what I'm here for."
She goes back to her phone and I go back to my thoughts. Which is dangerous territory right now.
The rest of my shift passes in a blur. Twenty more admits, sixteen discharges, a bunch of medication passes. I do everything right, say all the right things, but I can feel myself going through the motions, just like Joyce accused me of.
By the time 7:00AM rolls around, I'm exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the twelve-hour shift. My feet hurt, my back aches, and my heart feels like it's been wrung out like a dishcloth.
My phone buzzes as I'm walking to my car.
Reid
Hey beautiful. How was shift? Want to grab breakfast? I can pick you up.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard. Normally I'd say yes immediately. Breakfast with Reid sounds perfect. Just the two of us, laughing and talking, remembering why we're good together.
But what about afterward? What will he tell Blake?
"She looked tired." "She's stressed." "She's acting weird."
I can almost hear them analyzing it. Blake nodding, validating the theory that I'm not built for this. That I'm cracking.
If I go to breakfast, I'll have to perform. I'll have to pretend everything's fine. I'll have to not mention my conversation with Joyce, not bring up Blake again, not be the girlfriend who can't let things go.
Can't this morning. Rough shift. Just want to shower and crash.
Three dots appear immediately.
Reid
You ok? Want me to bring u something?
God, he's sweet. He'd probably show up with soup and flowers and rub my feet while I complained about puking kids and long shifts. And it would be perfect until the next time I have to be at his house, walking on eggshells, making myself smaller so I don't set off Blake.
I'm okay. Just tired. Come over after your shift?
I have the next few days off, thank god.
Reid
Of course. Get some rest. Luv u.
Love you too.
And I do. That's the problem. I love him so much it scares me sometimes. Love him enough to try to make this work despite everything.
But as I drive home Joyce's words won't leave me alone. How long are you willing to wait?
That's the thing. I don't think I can wait much longer. I worked too hard to build this life to let someone dim me. I survived moving every three months, I survived nursing school, I survived the ER.
Am I really going to let a man turn me into a ghost in my own life?