Chapter 4 #2
I shrug, but the truth is, it’s exactly that. “If they don’t need me, maybe I don’t need to do all of this anymore. But I also wonder if I’m too fucking old to start over.”
“Babe, you’re not even thirty yet. There are people who become doctors in their fifties. If you want to start over now, you know you can.”
He says that, but I don’t think he realizes what it takes. I couldn’t just pick up where I left off. I’d have to start at the bottom all over again, and I wouldn’t be able to afford my mortgage and take care of my mom’s bills that she can’t cover on a line cook salary.
If I’d been able to stay in the field and do what I wanted, things might be different. I might have my own kitchen now. Hell, my own restaurant. But I don’t, and that dream seems like it’s turned into pure fantasy. It’s not something I can chase anymore.
I might not be thirty yet, but I don’t have the same luxury other people do who want to start something new at my age. That takes money I don’t have, and time I can’t afford to give up, and a support system that doesn’t exist for me.
I don’t have a partner I can rely on, and I’d rather die than ask Easton to pony up any dough to keep me afloat while I try something that statistically won’t leave me better off than I’m doing now.
At least here, I have job security and benefits. I have a 401(k), for fuck’s sake. It’s ridiculous that I’d consider letting all of that go just because it’s not my passion.
“I think what I really need is to accept that not everyone gets to follow their dreams. I can learn to be content with this life. I don’t care that I’m alone”—a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that—“or that I’ll probably spend all of my life as a bachelor.
I think I just needed to vent that out loud. ”
He sighs quietly. “You know, I keep having a conversation just like this with my brother. Leo thinks that everyone gets one shot at building the life you want. If you lose it, that’s it.
You get to just exist until it’s over, and he’s ready to accept that he’s going to spend the rest of his life by himself. ”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say without really thinking. “He’s not even thirty yet!”
Easton laughs. “I know, but I can’t talk to him about it.
He and Liam were on the fucking rocks when the accident happened.
They went on that trip as a way to try and fix a failing marriage.
And now he won’t admit that things were bad.
I walked into his house one night, and he was fucking wasted and crying and saying he thinks the universe punished him for not loving Liam enough. ”
I stiffen. I’ve known Easton for a long while now, and by proxy, I’ve known Leo. He doesn’t talk to me, of course. I always seem to fuck up the moment whenever we’re around each other, but Easton has vented more than once about his brother and his former brother-in-law.
He’s never told me this though.
“I tried to remind him that Liam wasn’t a saint in their marriage, and he got angry and threw a punch at me.”
“Jesus.” It’s hard to imagine Leo ever throwing a punch.
Easton closes his eyes. “I think he was angrier at himself right then. When I talked to him the next day, he didn’t remember any of it.”
“Or he was pretending because he felt like shit about taking a swing at the only person around here who puts up with his bullshit,” I say, then once again want to shove my entire foot in my mouth.
Easton doesn’t get mad this time. He just hunkers down and holds me a little tighter.
I know that need for comfort, and it’s not hard to squeeze him back.
“He didn’t used to be like this. Well, okay, that’s a lie.
He was always kind of a rain cloud, but he wasn’t so fucking defeatist. It makes me wonder if he wouldn’t be thinking like this if he hadn’t had such a bad TBI.
And then I feel like an asshole for thinking that. But the injury did change him.”
So did losing his husband, probably. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be on the edge of trying to heal with someone and then losing them for good.
I feel for Leo, more than I want to admit.
The crush is easy. Liking him is complicated.
“Well, maybe—” I start, but we’re interrupted by another call.
Easton jumps up before I can react, and he runs off as I climb off the couch and ready myself for what’s probably the start of a busy night.
In spite of finally getting a few hours’ shut-eye after two in the morning, I still feel a little hazy as I make my way out to my truck.
We had several calls, and when things quieted down and insomnia struck, I spent hours in the kitchen, putting together two weeks’ worth of meals for Easton to bring to Leo.
Outside, my heart sinks a bit when I realize Russell isn’t waiting for me, but he’s never had trouble finding home, so I doubt it’ll be long before he’s on my porch, crying to be let inside.
I stop by the coffee kiosk on the drive and get an herbal tea in a sorry attempt to soothe my nerves. It has been a long fucking night with a lot of terrible calls, and the weight of losing two people before the ambulance could arrive is heavy on my chest.
There are moments I’m used to death, and I can shut off the discomfort. And then there are moments I take it through my front door and say a prayer no one tries to call me because I have no patience and no space for anyone else’s problems.
Today seems like option two.
It’s another reason I don’t know if this job is for me. I’m strong, but I’m also tired of being strong. I’ve had to build up thick skin from such a young age, and god, I’m just…
Tired.
Kicking off my shoes, I take a sip of my tea and grimace. It’s bitter from being oversteeped, and whatever brand they use sucks. But I choke down several mouthfuls as I peel off my jeans and T-shirt and slide into the softest sweats I own.
It’s still summer, but the one thing I splurge on is my power bill, which allows me to blast the AC until it feels fucking arctic. There’s nothing better than a freezing cold room and a heavy quilt while the sun burns outside.
It’s been a weirdly hot summer too, which I don’t love. There hasn’t been enough rain, the humidity has been fucking killer, and it feels like there’s no end in sight.
I can’t help but wonder if this is a sign I need to get the fuck out of here. I’m miserable at my job, I have a raging, horny crush on a guy who can’t stand the sight of me, and my family doesn’t need me anymore, which—
“North! Help. I’m literally dying!”
At the sound of my sister’s panicked voice, I dart out of my bed without thinking, trying to remember where my kit is as I skid to a halt near the living room. I’m expecting to see Meadow covered in blood, limbs barely hanging off her body. Who the fuck knows what else.
I should have known better.
She’s leaning against the wall near the front door with a gigantic iced coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Her sunglasses are pushing her hair back away from her face, and I can see mascara slightly smeared under her eyes because she’s been crying.
But she’s definitely not injured, and she’s not literally dying.