“The florists have been here daily, delivering flowers to Pete’s room. They talk to the staff. They’re saying there’s a rehearsal dinner for the Crossbow wedding coming up. Take some time off until the clinic opens, which is the week after the rehearsal dinner.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask.
Sera gets up. “You can take your vacation now. Effective immediately. I have someone covering the rest of your shift.”
“Pete was no saint. Or maybe you already know that, but you’re covering for the bullshit the hospital turns a blind eye to. I was here when Connor Crossbow was brought in, remember? Nobody told me anything about him because you all wanted me to treat him like he was a regular patient, and yet when I brought up the fact that the man was being sedated and strapped to the chair when he needed his lungs and airway treated, you all told me to do what I was told.
“See, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t pretend like you’re the good guys while treating Connor Crossbow like garbage, hoping he’d die, while protecting someone like Pete, who’s harassed and violated multiple women.” Her eyes widen, and I continue. “Pete was after me for months before I went out with him. But it was Connor and not you who told me that in our HR, Pete has a mile-long file of complaints from nurses. Maybe you want to bury it before some random journalist gets ahold of it and exposes you all. No worries, I’ll take my time off. With pay, and I’ll let you know if I’ll move to the clinic.”
I march out of the cafeteria so fast, I’m jogging. I don’t want them to see my tears. The moment I step outside, the tears fall. I wipe my cheeks as I walk to the bus station, where I sit on the bench and let out a scream.
People stare, and I remember how I can’t scream in public and draw attention to myself. But I scream again, this time letting out a year of frustrations and worries. There. I feel better already.
I wipe my face again and wait for the bus.
A sleek black sports car pulls up to the bus stop. Cars shouldn’t park here, not even for loading and unloading. The bus arrives on its heels and honks loudly.
Connor steps out of the car. Shades on. Black T-shirt, faded jeans, guns holstered but visible. He walks around the back of the car and waves at the bus driver, who stops honking. Thankfully, the driver recognizes him.
Connor steps in front of me and tucks a finger under my chin, then lifts. I look up at him.
The shades slide down his nose, uncovering his blue eyes. “Who made you cry?”
“My boss.”
“Which one? I just need a name.”
“I handled it myself.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I didn’t punch her in the face.”
Connor smiles. “That a girl. Does it have anything to do with Pete?” Stopped behind the car, the bus loads and unloads the passengers.
“I have to catch the bus and get Hanna from the babysitter.”
Connor shows me a car key. It’s one of those sleek keys with only two buttons. He takes my hand and puts it in my palm. “Take the car. I’ll see you around.”
With that, Connor boards my bus and leaves.
I stare at the car key, then at the retreating bus. “What the hell?”
A taxi pulls up and honks, its driver looking like he’ll jump out and kick my ass. I rush to the car, and the moment I sit down, I realize that it’s Pete’s. The dashboard, the scent, the interior leather, and stitchwork are all the same as I remember.
I don’t have time to think about why Connor has Pete’s car or why he gave me the keys before the taxi driver bumps it from behind. Damn. I rev the engine and drive out of the stop, my lips stretching into a smile.
I’ve had a crappy day. A crappy week. A crappy year. But Connor Crossbow knows how to make me smile.
Chapter 19
Connor
I’ve never ridden on a bus before.
The experience is welcome, although the combined body odors aren’t.
Neither are the people who are taking pictures of me. They’re trying to be covert about it, but I’m aware of my surroundings. How could I not be? People have been trying to kill me since birth, starting with my own mother.