Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Morning, sunshine. Sleeping late today?” I asked.
Camille grunted groggily. “I only got to sleep, ah…” Sheets rustled. “Two hours ago.”
“Two hours.” I checked the clock again. “I thought you gave up round-the-clock shifts after residency, Dr. Concannon.”
“Me too.” She yawned. “But we had a lockdown situation in the ER last night, and—”
I nearly ran the truck off the road into the scrub grass and gripped the wheel tightly as I righted it. “A lockdown? Christ, Camille.”
“Calm down.” Camille sounded marginally more awake. “It sounds dramatic, but it’s not, I swear. There was no danger.”
“Really?” I said caustically. “Because here I thought lockdowns only happened when there was a threat, like a fire or an active shooter, especially when you work at a hospital in one of the roughest neighborhoods in the city. But you’re saying they put you on lockdown for shits and giggles—”
“Don’t be an ass,” she said, amused. “We had another round of budget cuts a couple months ago, and since we’re already bare-bones with the medical staff, it was time for the security team to thin their ranks. Now, every damn time a patient who’s had too much to drink starts mooning the nurses, security has to lock the whole department down so they can go investigate. It’s a pain, but that’s all it is.”
I tried counting to ten to keep my temper under control. I barely got to six before blurting, “Camille. I know you don’t want to hear this, but—”
“Then don’t say it.” Her voice held a bite of temper that reminded me of my own. “You know I went into medicine because I want to help people, Silas. Providing care in an underserved area like this one is important work. If I found another hospital where I was needed half as much as I am here, I’d consider—consider—taking a different job. But since I don’t think that exists, don’t waste your breath. And no, before you ask, I don’t want you to endow the hospital with a security fund, either,” she added wryly.
“I need you,” I reminded her. “I know your patients need you, but I do, too. If you’d let me help…”
Why was I fucking surrounded by people who refused my assistance?
“Oh, Silas. You have the best and kindest heart—” Camille began.
I snorted. “That’s rich coming from you, do-gooder.”
“But… sometimes people don’t need you to fix things for them, you know? Sometimes all the help they need is your presence. To know you’re there and that you care.”
I considered this for a moment and shook my head. “But that’s not practical.”
“Of course it is. It’s just hard. It’s far easier to throw money and contacts at a problem.” She yawned again. “I promise, I wasn’t actually in danger, okay? Just… one of those things.”
I blew out a breath. “Just another nightmare dumpster fire train wreck?” I offered.
Camille laughed, just as I’d hoped she would. “A zombie nightmare dumpster fire train wreck,” she corrected. “With extra paperwork on top. So… what have you been up to? I got your message saying you were in Wyoming, but I’ve been pretty much nocturnal this week, so I didn’t have a chance to call. Are you there for a work thing?”
“No. It’s… kind of a long story. I’ll tell you all about it when you’re not trying to sleep.”
“Okay,” she agreed, probably sensing I’d reached my limit for deep conversation. “But at least tell me something about Wyoming. Are cowboys as hot in real life as they are in fiction?”
I laughed helplessly. “Hotter,” I said.
By the time I’d finished filling Camille in on all the wonders of the state—the mountains, the rivers, the wide sky, the men with toned glutes in well-worn Wranglers—and we said our goodbyes, I was back at the Fletcher Ranch and feeling marginally better.
But after sitting down at the kitchen table and working diligently through a string of emails from Kenji about critical projects, Kenji texted me to hop on a Zoom call. As soon as I joined, I saw five small windows appear and knew that I had at least one more hard conversation in store for me, whether I wanted it or not.
Kenji had assembled my four best friends—the entire billionaire brotherhood—for some kind of goddamned intervention.
“What is this?” I asked.
Landry grinned like a fool, Kenji was busy typing, Dev’s forehead crinkled in concern, Bash’s eyes danced while his mouth curved in a knowing grin, and Zane said something to someone out of the frame about “taking five.”
Kenji glanced up from his typing. “The guys wanted to know where you were. They didn’t believe me when I told them you were on a horse ranch in Wyoming. Voluntarily.”
Bash leaned toward the camera. “Bro, apparently, you approved the installation of two hundred grand worth of ETC in a little Podunk town with only six stoplights?”