Page 14 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

“Be careful,” she teased. “There’s a lot of support for what we’re doing in the religious community.”

“I meant no offense.” I held my hands up, changing the subject. “How are you doing?”

“Oh.” She took a swipe at a stray lock of hair, brushing it out of her eyes. “I’ve had better days.”

“What happened?” I wanted to know if anyone had been hassling her.

She seemed to know exactly what I had been thinking, because she shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s not any one person. It’s just that two nurses called in sick today, so I’m having to pick up extra rounds. And… there was an incident in the locked ward. I can’t give you any details.”

“Were you hurt?” I asked bluntly.

“No,” she said. “No one was hurt.”

I relaxed. “Is this dangerous work?”

“It can be,” she admitted, “but we have protocols and cameras, and help is never far off.”

“Okay.” I let it drop. She wasn’t my girlfriend or my wife. I had no responsibility or even ability to protect her.

“Can I show you around?” she asked.

I nodded, already forgetting Brad’s half-assed tour.

“You don’t currently have a roommate,” she said, standing up.

I exhaled in relief. This entire time I had been dreading meeting the person who would share my space, even for a few nights. I didn’t want to wake up with their stale breath in my face or witness any uncouth nocturnal rituals. It was rude of me to condescend toward addicts, me being one of them. But I knew better than most how intrusive people could be, and I wasn’t looking forward to sharing a room.

“That may change in the next day or so,” she cautioned me.

“Of course,” I agreed. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. I wouldn’t say anything negative about anyone they wanted to put in here. But I would allow myself a private celebration over one night roommate-free.

Gina led me out of my room into the common area. “If you get a visitor, you can sit with them here.” She pointed to a corner of the room with comfy chairs offset by circular end tables. “If you want to write a letter, you can ask at the nurses’ station.”

“Do people really write letters?”

“Yes,” she assured me. “It kills some time, and it’s cathartic in a way. You can get all your feelings out on paper in a way you can’t on a phone or an email.”

“When do I get my phone back?” I wondered.

“When you leave,” she answered apologetically. “It’s just too much of a risk.”

“You wouldn’t want us contacting our dealers,” I agreed.

“Speaking of.” She turned to face me. “Have you given any thought to how you’re going to handle that when you are released?”

“Well, I’m not going to call him,” I said.

“Are you going to erase the number?”

“Yes.” I accepted the challenge.

“And delete the address from your GPS?”

I opened my mouth to agree but couldn’t help playing devil’s advocate. “I already know how to get there without the GPS. But seriously, I plan to keep busy. I’ll have my hands full at work, and I’ll need to clean my room. That’ll occupy me for a couple days. After that, I can pick up some extra shifts to minimize my downtime and start looking for an actual apartment.”

Gina nodded. “That’s good. We’re going to give you some numbers you can call. Even in the middle of the night.”

I knew exactly one number I wanted her to give me, but I knew it was inappropriate to ask for it. I searched for pockets to thrust my hands into, but the scrubs had none. Instead, I threaded my fingers together behind my back.

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