Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
JESSICA
“Do you need any help with that, Mrs. Quinn?” I ask gently as the woman tries to sort through her discharge papers and prescriptions with shaking, frail fingers.
Mrs. and Mr. Quinn are an older couple from the church. They don’t have any kids, and she came in with pain in her chest, a fever, and a cough, which turned out to be a nasty case of pneumonia.
The older woman’s shoulders sag, and she gives me an appreciative nod as she rasps out, “Th-thank you.”
“Don’t even mention it.” I quickly organize the paperwork and then put the folder into her bag before handing it to her. “Is somebody coming to pick you up?”
They’re probably in their early eighties, and although Mr. Quinn doesn’t seem like he’s sick, I’m sure they could use help.
“Oh, no, my dear,” Mr. Quinn reassures me with a kind smile. “We’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about us.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I watch him reach for the handles of the wheelchair, determined to push his wife out of the ER.
“You know what? Why don’t you go and bring around your car, and I’ll help Mrs. Quinn out? She shouldn’t be out in the cold for too long.”
Mr. Quinn looks at me. “Are you certain? I’m pretty sure you have more important things to do.”
I pat him gently on the hand. “I don’t mind helping.”
“If you say so. I’ll be around in a jiff.”
A soft chuckle escapes me as the man leans down and kisses his wife on top of the head before hurrying out of the building.
“Th-thank y-you for doing th-that,” Mrs. Quinn says softly “His b-back…”
She shakes her head slowly, and I can see her eyes squeeze shut in pain.
“It’s my pleasure.”
I chat a little bit with her, although I’m the one who’s mostly talking, her coughs accompanying me every now and again, trying to give her husband time to bring the car around before I take her outside.
Which was a good call, because just as we get through the automatic doors, he comes to a stop.
I open the passenger door and gently place my hand under Mrs. Quinn’s arm so I can help her to her feet and transfer her into the car.
“You’re a godsend, Jessica,” Mrs. Quinn says with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”
“Nonsense. Y’all have a good day. Mrs. Quinn, please take it easy, okay? And come back if you need anything.”
Closing the door, I watch them drive away. Only then do I return to the ER to find Eva sitting behind the counter. She raises her brow at me when she sees me.
“Do you always have to be so… extra?”
I grind my teeth in annoyance at her insensitive comment. “I’m not being extra; I’m doing my job.”
She huffs. “I didn’t realize going through people’s things and putting them in their car was in our job description.”
Seriously, this woman. She was transferred here a few weeks before I was hired, and to say she drives me nuts would be an understatement. She’s so cold and snarky.
“Kindness never hurt anyone.”
“Maybe.” She lifts her hand and eyes her nails. “But it also doesn’t pay you more.”
I bite my tongue, stopping the words that want to come out. There is no sense in saying anything because she doesn’t care one bit. I’m not sure why she’s even doing this job when she obviously doesn’t like it.
I walk around the counter and sit at the computer, logging in to my account so I can finish the charting before leaving for the day, but she must feel chatty because she continues.
“I mean, being a Little Miss Goody Two-shoes never helped anybody. You’ll realize soon enough that I’m right.”
Hardly.
It takes everything in me to hold back an eye roll. Instead, I press my lips into a tight line and open the correct patient file.
“People just don’t appreciate it, and they can take—” She sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh my! Who’s the lucky girl?”
Her excited tone has me looking up from my computer. Eva is always grumpy, or even downright mean, so I’m curious what got her to cheer up out of the blue.
A teenage boy enters the ER, a bouquet in his hand. I glance toward Eva, who’s giddy like a schoolgirl as she eyes the flowers.
“I think Freddy must have mixed something up.”
I’ve seen the teen around Mrs. Jamison’s flower shop over the last few weeks, and I’m pretty sure I overheard somebody mention that he got his driver’s license recently and started helping his mom with the deliveries.
“Oh, shush, you!” Eva chastises at the same moment Freddy drawls, “No, ma’am. I’m at the right place.”
“See?” Eva smiles brightly. “It’s for us! Who sent it?”
I shake my head as she reaches for the card that’s tucked in between the flowers. “Who is it—”
“It’s for Miss Richards.”
My lips part at the sound of my name, as all eyes turn to me. Freddy is smiling, his hands extended toward me. Eva, on the other hand, is scowling at the envelope she’s holding between her fingers, as if the name will change if she looks long enough.
“Me?” My brows pull together in confusion as I stare at the pink roses. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Freddy smiles at me as he hands me the bouquet.
My stomach does a weird flip, which is ridiculous.
The flowers in the bouquet are pretty similar to the rose I found tucked under my windshield a few days ago. There was no note. No explanation. Just a rose. Like the flowers Matthew brought for his mother when he visited her.
Is Matthew behind these as well? And if so, why?
“The note does say Jessica on it,” Eva mutters, clearly unhappy as she hands me the little white envelope.
I look at the name written in neat cursive, my fingers skimming over the letters. Definitely for me, then.
“Thank you, Freddy.” I hand the teen a couple of bucks I always have stashed in one of my pockets, and take the bouquet from him, inhaling the sweet scent as I run my finger over one of the flowers.
Looking around the reception space, I spot an old jar we keep there for moments like this, so I take it to the sink and fill it with water before placing them on the counter.
“They’re pretty,” Eva comments, a longing expression on her face.
“They are,” I answer absentmindedly as I slip back into my chair.
“Who’re they from?”
“I don’t know.” Picking up the envelope, I slip my finger under the flap and then pull out the note from inside.
“A secret admirer, maybe?”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff, but my smile falls when I turn around the card.
From the first time I saw you, you took my breath away.
My skin prickles in awareness as I stare at the words, bile rising up my throat.
“What?” Eva leans over the counter and plucks the card from my hand, her lips moving as she reads. Her eyes meet mine, a smirk spreading over her lips. “So it is an admirer!”
I snatch it back, annoyed that she did that. “Give me that.”
“No name, though. Do you know who he might be?”
“No,” I lie immediately.
Damien.
My ex’s words come back to me as I reread the note. The promise—threat, if we’re being honest—that he isn’t giving up until I give him another chance.
The irony is that he never bought me flowers when we were dating.
Not once in almost a year. But it adds up.
He doesn’t like that I was the one who called it off, so he’s trying to get back in my good graces in any way he can think of.
It wouldn’t be the first time. He knows where I work. Where I volunteer.
God, and here I thought that Matthew…
A blush rises on my cheeks just thinking about it.
Thank God I didn’t go to him and demanded an explanation when I found that first flower after leaving Helpful Hands, because how embarrassing would that have been?
I shake my head, refusing to go down that road.
“I need to get back to work.”
Shifting my attention to the computer, I turn my whole focus to the work ahead of me.
It takes me a good forty minutes before I’m done.
I quickly grab my things from the desk, my gaze falling on the note.
Making sure nobody’s around, I squish it and toss it into the trash before going to the changing rooms to grab my things.
My phone buzzes with a text just as I’m leaving, my best friend’s name popping on the screen.
Mae:
What are you up to?
Jessica:
Just getting off work.
Mae:
Didn’t your shift finish like an hour ago?
Scratch that, who am I to judge?
Meet me at The Hut?
My fingers hover over the screen, ready to ask for a rain check, but then my gaze drops to the damn flowers on the desk, making me change my mind.
Jessica:
You know it. I’ll see you in an hour.
“So let me get this straight,” Mae says softly, but the anger shining in her eyes promises retribution. “He called you a cunt—”
“Well, he said my frigid cunt,” I try to correct, but Mae just waves me off.
“—and then he expects you to just forgive him as if nothing happened? What the actual hell?”
Well, when she puts it that way… I take a sip of my drink, the alcohol burning my throat as it slides down.
Even though the music is playing loudly through the speakers, a few people sitting around us give us wary looks as Mae’s tone progressively grows louder. Hearing her say it out loud makes it sound even worse than it does in my head.
“Please tell me you’re not planning on forgiving that asshole.”
“Hell no.” I shake my head. No way, no how am I going through all of that again. “We’re done.”
“Good.”
“Let’s just hope he gets the memo.” I slide my finger along the rim of my glass. “He’s been trying to call me non-stop, to the point that I had to block him.”
“You think he might give you issues?”
“I don’t know. He’s been pretty insistent. He even sent me flowers at work!”
Mae’s brows shoot up. “Damien? Flowers?”
“That was my reaction too. The note said ‘From the first time I saw you, you took my breath away.’ I think he’s trying to get back into my good graces.
He always does this after we have a fight.
He’s extra sweet and attentive, although flowers are a first.” Our interaction at the café pops in my mind.
“Well, if you don’t count the ones he tried to give me when he offered to pay for my coffee the other day. ”