Telling her she’d been alone for too long?
That the net was harming her more than it protected?
Because if she was always behind that net, always hiding and safely ensconced from the world, then how could she ever be free?
So many questions. So unsettled.
Still, so alone.
Sighing, she picked up her glass, tilted her gaze to the stars, and kept drinking.
She wouldn’t find the answers tonight.
But perhaps this was the first step to finding them eventually.
Eight
Jet
He spent two days freaking out about Trixie not showing up for work before he broke down and by the third asked the charge nurse when she was scheduled again.
He’d made an excuse about wanting to follow up with Trix about their patient, Tom, and his prognosis, but Rosario didn’t look like she believed him, and anyway, it wasn’t like Trixie needed him to tell her about the patients when she could follow up about them herself.
Still, he’d probably looked like a moron, but he had found out that Trix’s absence was planned.
Two additional days off, plus her normal three.
Like most of the other nurses in the area, she worked four tens on and then had three days off, while the docs in the department worked three twelve-hour shifts a week.
Regardless, Rosario had given him an assessing look and then told him that she’d be back on Wednesday. Wonderful. He was off until Thursday.
Which meant he’d been an ass and had to wait almost a week to apologize.
What was it that people said about doctors and egos? That they had them in the plenty and that they also weren’t small. Kind of like something else, he thought and snorted at his lame high school joke as he gathered his stuff and took off for home.
He had a couple of days off before his next shift on Thursday, might as well make the most of them.
First, sleep.
Second, getting some furniture because his place was seriously lacking. He was thirty-eight and that meant he shouldn’t be living off an air mattress with a wall-mount TV propped in one corner.
He needed a real mattress, a bed frame, maybe a couch, and a dining room table. Hell, he could even spring for some chairs.
Living the big life.
Ha.
His cell rang as he took his exit from the freeway. He glanced at the caller ID and saw that Clay was calling.
“Hey, man,” he answered over Bluetooth.
“Hey.” A beat before his friend’s voice continued through the speakers. “I’m bored.”
Jet was stunned into silence for a long moment. Probably because he’d never ever heard Clay say he was bored. Never. Clay Steele was a workaholic in the most classic sense of the world. They’d met when he, Heather, and Colin McGregor pooled resources and wanted to test using their artificial intelligence to get medical supplies and food to areas hit hard by natural disasters. Places where limited crews and shipments could get in, but where the need was intense.
Clay had unending energy, worked hours that compared with Jet's, and he always had about ten projects fired up and waiting on the back burner.
It was unfathomable that Clay could be bored.
Also unfathomable?
The pathetic tone of Clay’s voice.
He sounded despondent, almost pouty.
“Heather take over all your work?” Jet asked.
Clay sighed. “No,” he grumbled. “She extended her trip by a day, and now I’m home alone with no work because Sebastian won’t let me take over his projects.”
Jet laughed. “This is what happens when you hire people who are too good at what they do.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Clay muttered.
“How long has Heather been gone?”
“Since Friday, she and the girls went on a long weekend up to Sonoma,” Clay said. “Now they’re not coming back until tomorrow. Apparently, Trix found some sort of hot spring spa they want to try, so they extended their rental.”
Jet’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Trix’s name, and he deliberately ignored the pulse of alarm that trailed it. Probably because his dumb ass mouth was working. “Trix is with them?”
Clay grunted. “Eight women in that house. Drinking, watching marathons of Magic Mike and Aquaman and Thor, getting into trouble and—”
“Dude,” Jet interrupted, navigating the stop-and-go that always crowded the last few blocks before his building. “You need to chill out. Order a pizza, grab a beer, and relax. Your girl will be home in twenty-four hours.”
“I haven’t seen her for four days.”
Jet rolled his eyes. “Also, this just in, you’re completely pussy-whipped.”
“So what,” Clay muttered.
“So, you should be okay being without Heather for a few days.”
“I’m okay,” Clay said. “I just don’t like it.”
“And you’re apparently worried she’s going to leave you for a stripper? Or a superhero?”
A long-suffering sigh. “No.”
“Then relax. Enjoy being able to put your feet up on the table without getting yelled at. Have that beer, order that pizza.”
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“Okay, wait a few hours then do both.”
“Fine,” Clay said, tone still grumbling. “Be reasonable, why don’t you?”
“I will,” Jet agreed. “Other than missing your wife, what have you been up to?”
They shot the shit as Jet pulled into the underground parking garage and made his way up to his condo, Clay telling him about some projects that were rolling out, including some cool innovations with AI that hospitals might be able to use shortly.
“You working today?” Clay asked as Jet walked into his condo.
“Just got off shift. Not working again until Thursday.”
“Cool. Then you can order the pizza tonight. I’ll bring the beer over to your place.”
Jet dropped his stuff by the door. “Fair warning. My plan is to buy a couch today, but my furniture situation is a little sparse.”
“Do you have a TV?”
“Yeah.”
“Good enough for me.” A beat then, “Should we bother with vegetables on the pizza?”
Jet kicked off his shoes, dropped onto the air mattress. “Nah.”
Clay laughed. “Agree,” he said. “Okay, I’m going to have my assistant send you some places that can have furniture delivered.” There was a pause, as though Clay were glancing at the time. “I’m guessing you’re going to crash now?”
Jet’s eyes were already closed. “You’d be guessing right.”
“Cool, I’ll have Tristan email you the places.”
“Not billionaire places,” Jet said.
“Not billionaire,” Clay agreed. “See you about eight tonight.”
“’kay.”
They hung up. Jet blearily managed to plug his cell into the charger and then tugged the covers up and over him.
He was asleep in seconds.
The sun was blinding when he woke, and Jet spent a few minutes mentally grumbling that he hadn’t thought to shut the curtains. Realistically, it was probably a good thing since he probably would have slept until Clay came over and then they’d be sitting on the floor, a pizza box and beers between them, watching a TV that was propped against the wall in one corner of his condo.