Page 50 of Night Shift

She moved closer to the main wall in the living room, where I’d hung my collection of Ansel Adams black and white prints. “And these pictures are amazing. You have great taste.”

I smiled, following her gaze. “Thanks, Bethany. Ansel Adams’s work has always fascinated me. It’s my goal to one day visit all the national parks.” I paused, scrunching up my face a bit sheepishly. “Actually, so far, I’ve never even traveled outside of Washington state.”

Bethany turned to me, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Really? Well, we need to change that. How about we make a pact to take a girls’ trip to Hawaii one day?”

The idea sent a thrill through me. I’d never thought about the prospect of exploring somewhere so cool with my best friend. “That sounds amazing,” I said, excitement bubbling up despite the fact that I would have to hide at her place for who knew how long.

As I gathered my things, Bethany reminded me, “Don’t forget all your hair and makeup stuff, and pack for several days. Remember, the gala is only four days away, and you and Marissa were planning on getting ready at my place. I’m guessing you’ll be staying with me at least through the weekend.”

I nodded, mentally checking off what I needed to bring, and in a few minutes, we were leaving my apartment with bags in tow. In the hallway, we passed by Alex, my neighbor. He flashed me a cheeky grin. “Hey, Samantha, what happened to Mr. Fancy Pants Doctor who picked you up a while back? You two still dating?”

My cheeks heated up. Caught off guard, I stammered out a denial. “No, I… We’re not seeing each other. That wasn’t a date. He was just helping me out when my car wouldn’t start.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Sure looked like a date to me, the way he was holding your hand.”

I mumbled a quick goodbye and practically bolted to Bethany’s car, my heart racing. Once safely inside, I blurted out, “Alex is just a nutty neighbor. Says all sorts of crazy stuff.”

Bethany glanced at me, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Remind me, when did Atticus drive you home? Was that when your car battery died?”

“Yeah, exactly,” I said smoothly, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Just a friendly, albeit awkward, gesture.”

Bethany seemed to accept my explanation, and so the subject was dropped, but while we drove, I sat there, stewing in my thoughts. I hated to lie, especially to her. I hoped she’d never find out the truth about what had happened with Atticus. The last thing I wanted was for the situation with him to put a strain on our friendship.

When we arrived at Bethany’s condo, she parked the Volvo and immediately jumped out, moving around to the trunk before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt. “Let me get those,” she insisted, reaching for the heavy bags I’d packed.

“Thanks, Beth. I really appreciate it.”

“Welcome to my humble abode!” she announced when we entered her cozy one-bedroom condo.

Bethany’s place was flawlessly styled and welcoming, a testament to her impeccable taste. I admired her attention to detail. Every corner of the room looked like it came out of a showroom. She led me through the compact space, pointing out where everything was. “You’ll crash on the pull-out sofa. I know it’s not a five-star hotel, but it’ll do,” she said with a smile. “And hey, the bathroom’s huge, perfect for all us girls to get ready for the gala. Oh, and Marissa and I decided to get ready at my place instead of hers because I have a little more room.”

“Your place is perfect for a girls’ night,” I agreed.

Once settled, we decided to order Chinese food and distract ourselves by bingeing episodes of The Witcher. Damn, Henry Cavill was fine. With a pleasant sigh, I sank into the cushions, the day’s earlier events receding into the background. For the first time since the attack, the tight knot of tension in my chest began to loosen, allowing me to breathe a bit easier.

“I needed this, Beth. Thanks for taking me in,” I said.

Bethany smiled, her eyes soft. “That’s what friends are for, Sam. I’m your girl.”

In the safety of her condo, with the night stretching quietly before us, I allowed myself to believe that maybe everything would eventually be okay.

Bethany and I were halfway through the second season when my phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, I saw Atticus’s name. Puzzled, I answered as Bethany paused the show.

“Hello?”

“Sam, it’s Atticus. I just wanted to check in. Have you cleaned the suture site?” His voice was clinical, all business.

“Yes, I cleaned it,” I replied, shifting to find a more comfortable position on the sofa.

“And are you experiencing any headaches? Symptoms of a concussion?” he continued, ticking off a list of concerns.

“No headaches, Atticus. I’m monitoring for symptoms,” I said, trying to be patient.

He didn’t pause. “What about your ribs and the other areas where you were punched, any signs of a hematoma?”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “They’re bruised but manageable. Atticus, I’m an ED nurse. I know how to take care of myself.”

There was a brief silence on his end. “Of course. I just wanted to make sure.”

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