Coming out of my head, I shut the door and let Dizzy off his leash. After setting the paper bag holding our food on the counter in the kitchen, I head through the living room toward Willow’s bedroom in the back of the house. The door is already open when I get there, and I find Dizzy up on the bed, trying to burrow his way under the covers to get to my sister.
“Dizzy dude, seriously, your breath stinks,” Willow grumbles, poking her head out, sitting up, and pulling Dizzy into her lap while petting him. “You need to get him some doggie breath mints,” she tells me, and I roll my eyes at her. “Did you get my soup?”
“I did. Do you want to eat in here, or do you feel like getting out of bed?”
“I should probably get up. I’ve been in bed all day. This flu is kicking my ass.” She tosses back the blanket and scoots to the edge of the bed with Dizzy still in her arms. “You should probably stay away from me so I don’t get you sick.”
“I never get sick,” I remind her. I can count on both my hands the number of times I’ve been sick in my life. It was a curse when we were younger, because I never had a reason to miss school and was always jealous when she and the rest of my siblings got to stay in bed all day and have Mom look after them.
“Right, I forgot you hogged all the good immune system stuff,” she responds, letting Dizzy go and standing.
“Whatever,” I laugh, watching her move slowly toward her bathroom.
“Wait.” She turns to look at me. “Didn’t you have your interview today?”
“I did.”
“And?” She raises a brow.
“I got the job.” I grin, watching her smile.
“I knew you’d get it. So when do you start?”
“In a few weeks. I need to give Dr. Brandsaw time to find a replacement.”
“Did he know you were looking elsewhere?”
“He knows my long-term goal is to work in the ER, but no, I didn’t tell him I would be looking for a job in a hospital once I passed my exam for my license.”
“You and your goals,” she mumbles, turning back toward the bathroom. “I’m happy for you!” she shouts through the partially closed door. “How happy were Mom and Dad when you told them?” she asks after I hear the toilet flush and the pipes turn on.
“Happy. Mom tried to talk me into moving in with them,” I say, walking across the room and leaning my shoulder against the doorjamb, watching while she washes her hands and face.
Meeting my gaze in the mirror, her eyes widen in horror. “Are you going to do that?”
“Do I appear mentally unstable to you?” I retort.
She grins and replies, “Right?”
I shake my head. “Anyway, now I need to find a house so I’m not driving two hours a day.”
“I love house shopping, I’ll help you search.”
“Thanks, I’m going to need it.” I smile as she grabs her robe and puts it on over her T-shirt and sweats.
“Did you tell Michelle to start searching?”
“Yes, and she said she should have some houses for me to go through over the next few days,” I say, following her back through the house and into the kitchen.
“Awesome. Forward the e-mail to me when you get it, and I’ll help you go through them and narrow the list down.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer,” I agree, handing her the soup and a spoon.
“Thanks.” She takes it with her to the living room. Following with my Lo Mein and a fork, I pad behind her, kicking off my flip-flops, and settle in with her on the couch, tucking my feet under me.
“What do you have to watch?” I ask as she flips on the TV.
“There are a few episodes of the newest season of 90 Day Fiancé recorded. Do you want to watch it?” she asks, flipping through her recorded list on her DVR.
“Duh.” I smile, taking a bite of my noodles as she presses start on the first episode.
“I love this show,” she says halfway through the episode, and I shake my head.
“I just feel bad for most of them,” I admit, watching some poor sap fawning over a woman who is obviously not even a little bit interested in him.
“Love makes you blind,” she mutters, and I nod in agreement. She’s right. Love does make you blind, and sometimes stupid. “At least they’re brave enough to try.”
“True,” I agree softly, wondering if I will ever be brave enough to go after love the way they are. I doubt I ever will. “I saw Harlen today,” I blurt, and she presses pause on the show then turns to look at me.
“You did?”
“When I was leaving the hospital after my interview, I saw him in the parking lot.”
“What happened? What did he say?”
“Nothing much. He asked what I was doing, so I told him about getting the job. And then he asked me to celebrate with him.”
“Celebrate?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Did you take him up on his offer?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“Why the hell not? I thought you said you think he’s hot.”
“He is hot. I just… I just couldn’t,” I admit, and she studies me closely then lets out a sigh.
“Not all aspects of your life can be planned out, written down, and scheduled. You need to live a little and have some fun.”
“I have goals, things that are important to me,” I defend myself.
“Yes, and you always meet your goals, but some events won’t fit on one of your lists of things you need to do.”
“You’re right.”
“Next time he asks yo—”
“If there is a next time,” I cut her off and correct her, not wanting to get my hopes up that there will be a next time. It was a fluke that I saw him today.
“Fine, if there is a next time.” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, do you really want to look back on your life in fifteen or twenty years and think about all the things you missed out on because you were afraid to take a chance?”
“No.”
“Exactly, you don’t. So in order for that not to happen, you need to start living a little,” she scolds gently. “Seriously, I love you, but I don’t get you sometimes,” she grumbles, before pressing play on the TV. I pull in a breath then press my lips together. I don’t know if I will be able to do what she is telling me I should do, but I know she’s right. I don’t want to look back on my life and have regrets.
Chapter 1
Harmony
“THIS IS PERFECT,” I SAY as I spin around, taking everything in. The living room is huge with a white fireplace, and white bookshelves built into the wall on either side of it. The kitchen is open to the living room and has off-white cabinets and cream-colored granite with flecks of gold and wine in its surface. It offsets the pretty dusty rose-colored long cabinet separating the kitchen from the living room, with a butcher block top and three clear glass pendent lights hanging over it. Tipping my head back, I look up at the tall white ceilings with dark beams running upward, meeting in the middle, where there is a decorative crystal chandelier. Dropping my eyes to the floor, I check out the dark wood under my feet that seems to run through the entire house.
“You haven’t seen the bedrooms,” Michelle says regretfully, and I look up at her. “They’re small. Most of the square footage is out here.” She waves her hand around to encompass the room we’re standing in.
“I don’t care. I love it,” I tell her honestly, looking around the room again.
This has to be the hundredth house I have looked at since I started my search. I gave up on finding somewhere four weeks ago after I started my job at the hospital in town. Michelle assured me that she would find me a house, but I destined myself to an hour-long commute every day to and from work. When Michelle called me this morning and told me that she had a place I just had to see, I agreed to meet her before work, even though I didn’t really want to. Now, I’m glad I did.
At just over fifteen hundred square feet, it’s everything I was looking for and more.
“If you’r
e sure about this place, we need to put in an offer. The owner did me a favor letting you see it before she officially put it on the market. I know when that happens everyone and their mother is going to fight for it.”
“I’ll pay full asking price, and I won’t even ask for closing costs,” I tell her, and she smiles.
“Let me go get my paperwork from the car. While I’m doing that, have a look at the bedrooms just so you can be sure this is the one.”
“Sure,” I agree, watching her turn on her heels to leave. I wander to the sliding door off the living room and look out past the wooden deck. The yard isn’t very big, but it already has a five-foot tall white fence around it, so Dizzy can run whenever he feels like it. All I will have to do is figure out a way to put in a doggie door for him.
Spinning around, I head past the kitchen toward the bedrooms. The first door I open is a small bathroom with a pedestal sink, tub/shower combo, and a toilet. Going to the next door, I find a bedroom. Not a very big room, but if I put in a daybed, I can make it work. The next room is exactly the same size, perfect for an office. At the end of the hall, I open the door and step in.
Bright light is filling the room through a double bay window looking toward the neighbors’ place. This room is big enough for my queen size bed, and there is an attached bathroom that has been updated with gray wood like tile floors and cream-colored tile in the glass enclosed shower. Looking at the pedestal sinks side by side with pretty oval mirrors over them, I sigh in happiness and relief.
“So what’s the verdict?” Michelle prompts, and I turn to face her.
“Sold.” I grin then ask, “Where do I sign?”
An hour and a call to the owner later, my offer is accepted. Thank God. She also agreed to let me move in and pay rent until we close, since the house is now sitting empty, and she’s all the way in Florida and—in her words—“losing money everyday.”
With a smile on my face, I leave Michelle to lock up, and head for my car and get in. I look through the windshield at the house one last time after I put on my seat belt, shoving my key in the ignition. The house is cute with blue siding and black shutters. The front door is in the middle of the porch, and there is enough space that I can place pots on either side of it and fill them with flowers. The landscaping around the house leaves much to be desired, but I can fix that up myself on my days off, maybe plant some flowers and a couple more trees.
I take out my phone and snap a picture, sending a group text to my mom and my sisters so they can see the house. My sister, Nalia, who moved to Denver, is the first to text back an emoji of a smiling face with heart eyes. Willow’s text comes next with the same emoji. Right after that, my phone rings. Hitting accept on the call, I back out of the driveway.
“You finally found a house,” Mom says, sounding relieved. I know she’s been worried about me driving an hour each way to work and home every day, especially after working double shifts at the hospital. I love my new job, but working three doubles in a row is tiring, even if I do get four days off after working those shifts.
“Mom, wait until you see this place. It’s perfect,” I tell her as I stop at a red light. “The owner also agreed to let me move in and pay rent until we close.”
“I’ll tell your dad. You tell your cousins. I’m sure between the two of us we can gather enough guys to get you moved this weekend,” she assures, and I laugh.
“I haven’t really packed, Mom. It’s going to take me a few days to get that all sorted out.”
“Oh, hush. I’ll drag everyone I can get with me tomorrow and we’ll get you packed up in no time at all.”
“If you think you can get them all together, I won’t stop you,” I agree, making a mental note to at least pack up my bathroom and the side tables in my room so my mom and aunts don’t accidently run across any of my toys. That would be humiliating.
“I’ll call them when we get off the phone. When are your next days off?”
“The day after tomorrow, which is Tuesday then Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.”
“Perfect, we’ll get as much done as we can while you’re at work tomorrow, and then we will finish up on your days off and have you moved out by the weekend,” she says, and I smile, pulling into the hospital parking lot.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t thank me. You know I’m happy to help,” she says as I shut down the engine.
“I just got to work. I’ll send a text to the girls to let them know what’s going on.”
“Let me know what your cousins say.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too.” She hangs up.
Getting out of my car, I grab my bag along with my lunch and go inside. I pass the elevator and instead take the stairs. My love of takeout and all things carbs means I need to work out when and however I can; otherwise, my ass will double in size. I like my ass, but I don’t need any more of it to love. Reaching the metal door for the second floor, I shove it open and head down the hall, approaching the nurses’ station where Latoya and Maya, two of the nurses, are in deep conversation. Walking past them, I see Fiona who works overnights. She’s the head nurse on the floor—an older woman with a plump figure and caring eyes—standing in front of her medicine cart near a patient’s room.
“Hey, Harmony,” she greets me with a warm smile. “It’s me and you today.” She nods to the stuff in my hands. “After you drop your bags and clock in, meet me back here.”
“I’ll be right back,” I agree, passing her. Going to the break room, I put my lunch away in the fridge and my stuff in my locker before clocking in. I clip my badge to my scrub top then go out to find Fiona, whose cart is now farther down the hall in front of another room. Knocking on the open door, I wait for her to tell me to come in. The room is quiet when I enter, and I find Fiona next to the bed with a man not much older than me. He’s sitting up in bed with his leg, which is in a cast, slightly elevated.
“Harmony, this is Mr. Russell,” Fiona introduces us, and I smile at him when his eyes come to me. “He was in a car accident two days ago and had surgery this morning on his leg. He’s here until tomorrow morning and will be your first official patient.” Her words have Mr. Russell looking at her with wide eyes.
“Don’t worry. Harmony will take very good care of you.” She smiles at him reassuringly, and I plaster her same expression on my face. I haven’t had any patients on my own since I started working here. I knew it would happen eventually; I just didn’t know it would be today. “As soon as we finish the nurses’ meeting, she will be back in to give you your medicine and help you to the bathroom,” she tells him.
“Sure,” he agrees, studying me closely, so I keep the smile on my face. I don’t need him freaking out and thinking I’m incapable of taking care of him, or Fiona thinking I’m not ready.
“If you need anything before then, just press your alarm.” She points out the button on the side of the bed and he nods.
“I’ll see you soon,” I tell him, before I follow her out of the room.
“Are you ready to be on your own?” she asks me as we step into the hall, and I let out a short laugh. I’m not sure it would matter if I was ready or not, since she just told me that I have at least one patient.
“I’m ready,” I assure her, squeezing her upper arm.
“I knew you were.” She smiles softly. “Today and this evening should be slow. We only have five patients on the floor, and as of right now, there is only one new admit coming in this evening.”
“I’m excited,” I tell her.
“Good, let’s get our meeting done so the girls can get out of here,” she says, so I follow her to the nurses’ station, where we get an update from Latoya and Maya on all the patients on the floor and the doctors who will be on call throughout the day. Once we are done with the meeting, I go through med count and sign off Maya, who I’m taking over from, and then I head back to Mr. Russell’s room with my cart. I fill the order for his pain pills and enter his room. The TV
is now on, but he’s not watching it; he’s looking at his phone.
“Hi, I have your pain meds,” I tell him, and his eyes come to me. “Lunch should be coming around soon as well.” I go over to his bed.
“Hospital food.” He makes a face, and I smile, watching him set down his phone near his hip on the bed.
“It’s not so bad.”
“If you don’t have taste buds, it’s not bad. Unfortunately, mine are still working.”
Laughing, I hand him his pills then pick up his standard pink hospital cup and hand that to him as well. “Tomorrow, when you get out of here, you can go out to dinner and have whatever you’d like,” I murmur, watching him tip the tiny plastic cup back and swallow the pills before taking a gulp of water. Handing me back the cup, his eyes move to my badge clipped to my top.
“So, Harmony Mayson, are you offering to take me out?” he asks and I shift uncomfortably. He’s not a bad-looking guy. He’s cute in that wholesome boy next door kind of way, with dirty blond hair that is cut short and parted at the side, and blue eyes that stand out against his tan skin. Too bad for him, my mind has suddenly become obsessed with wild and untamable.
Laughing awkwardly, I shake my head. “Sorry, no, but I will help you to the bathroom,” I say, and he shrugs.
“I guess I’ll take what I can get.”
With a smile, I help him out of bed and into his wheelchair then take him into the bathroom. After he finishes, I get him back into bed then leave him to get some sleep. The rest of the night goes by quickly between admitting our new patient, running meds, and doing paperwork. When I finally get off, I’m exhausted and thankful I only have a few more days of having to drive an hour to return home.