Page 29 of Byte

I was right. It didn’t take long. I was walking back to the truck and trying not to cry less than ten minutes later.

“What’s wrong?” Byte asked immediately.

“They didn’t clear me to return to work,” I huffed.

“What? Why not?”

“Because of this fucking cough. I even gave them the note from Patch saying I could return to work, but they didn’t care.”

“What happens now?”

“She said they’d recheck me in five days. Which means I can’t work tomorrow or Monday. Since I’ll be at the doctor’soffice on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I won’t be able to get rechecked until Friday. I don’t know what in the hell they’re thinking. Residual coughs can last for weeks!”

“Are you just upset about letting your coworkers down, or is there more to it?” Byte asked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat. “Is this about money?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. I have a trust fund from my mother. Well, it’s really from Keegan. Our mother set up a trust fund for Keegan, but she died before she set one up for me. Because Keegan is Keegan, she put half of hers into an account for me. Somewhere along the way, Gigi added to it. I don’t actually have to work. Well, that’s not entirely true. I needed the clinical experience to get into grad school. Once I’d worked enough to fulfill the requirement, I kept working part-time for the experience. I’ve learned much more at the hospital than I ever did from textbooks.”

“So what’s got you so upset?”

I sighed. “I’m just frustrated, I guess. Because of a protocol created by someone behind a desk, I can’t work, even though a practicing physician says I can. Hospital politics are bullshit.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, so you might as well enjoy your days off,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m not sure I even know how to do that. Since I only have one or two days off at a time, I usually spend them running errands, doing laundry, or studying.”

“Now you have four. Think of something fun to do, and we’ll do it,” he said.

“There’s a place not too far from here where they teach you how to weave your own basket. Then you can fill it full of berries you pick yourself from their farm. I’ve always thought that would be fun. What do you think?”

Byte audibly swallowed and nodded once. “Sure. I mean, if that’s what you want to do,” he said and failed to hide his reluctance.

I wanted to keep going, but I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “I’m just fucking with you.”

“You’re going to pay for that,” he teased.

“Were you seriously going to go basket weaving and berry picking with me?”

“Yes, I was, but I really didn’t want to,” he admitted.

“You weren’t going to try to talk me out of it?”

He shook his head. “You seemed like you wanted to go. If it was going to make you happy, why would I try to talk you out of it?”

I placed my hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re a good man, Byte.”

“I do what I can.”

He did a lot more than he could. He’d gone out of his way to watch over me while my family was out of town, after he came to my rescue and chased a burglar out of my house. Then he took excellent care of me while I was sick. He offered to take care of a dog for me until I finished school. And he was willing to spend a whole day doing things he had no interest in to make me happy. I was beginning to realize he was more than a good man. He was a great man. Maybe even a perfect man.

My thoughts were interrupted when Byte abruptly put the truck in park and turned to me. “Stay here,” he said and pulled his gun from the holster at his back.

“Wait! What’s going on?” I demanded and grabbed his arm to stop him from getting out of the truck.

He pointed toward my house. “Your front door is open.”

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