Page 12 of Thornhill Road

I did what I thought was right, so my conscious was clear.

It had been a horrible idea because when I started my Wednesday, I didn’t know an incredibly hot badass biker with vibrant hazel-blue eyes and amomtattoo I just knew he wore with love and not a drop of irony. Now I did, and it was Friday, and I couldn’t forget it—forgethim—even though I knew he was out of boundsandthe embodiment of everything I was trying to keep out of my bed and certainly away from my heart.

I freed a pathetic whine, clapping my hands over my face, but didn’t move to get up.

I should have. I needed to. It might have even helped to distract myself with the responsibilities of the day—but I was dragging.

I’d gone to sleep the night before only to be roused two hours later by a call from the husband of one of my patients. She had been struggling with insurmountable pain. I was out the door ten minutes later. I didn’t walk back through it for another three hours. I’d turned off my alarm after crawling into bed in the wee hours, but my body was gracious enough to make sure I didn’t sleep away the entire morning.

So, I was awake…thinking about Mustang.

My cell phone rang, and I was quick to roll over to reach for it.

I didn’t care if it was a patient or the pope, I needed the distraction.

I smiled when I saw it wasJennacalling.

“Hey,” I spoke in greeting, putting her on speaker.

“Hi! I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nope. Your timing is perfect.”

Jenna and I had met shortly after I moved back to Wyoming. My first job out of school was as an oncology nurse at the hospital. Jenna was an ER nurse who’d been on the job about a year longer than me. I thought she was crazy for staying in the ER for the last decade, and she thought I was nuts for leaving the hospital to tend to patients who never survived—but we remained each other’s best support system all the same.

“I just finished an all-nighter and wanted to call to confirm our plans for Sunday before I crashed. Please say we’re still on, because my feet aredyingfor some tender love and care.”

I looked down at my own feet, even though they were tucked under my covers. I didn’t need to see them to be reminded they were in need of a fresh coat of paint.

“Fingers crossed neither of us gets called in, because I am so totally there.”

Pedicures once a month was our ritual, but it was more than just a chance for a little self-care. It was basically a mandatory check in. She and I kept each other sane. Our jobs were hard and emotionally draining. It would have been so easy to burnout, but we had each other to lean on in order to make sure that didn’t happen.

Like me, Jenna was single and had no one to pick up the slack at home. Her dating history was quite different than mine. Her exes weren’t the heartbreakers so much as the heartbroken. It wasn’t that she was a tyrant when it came to dating relationships, she was just picky. She never gave her heart away too soon, as she was incredibly overprotective of it. If she saw even a hint of something she didn’t like, she was out.

I wasn’t entirely sure if it was the healthiest way to go about dating—but she felt the same way about how I did it, too. In so many ways, we were each other’s opposite, but I supported her in her pursuit of happiness all the same. She was a gorgeous,lovely human who deserved to find the right man for her—whatever that looked like.

“Okay, good. We’ll keep each other posted. But, while I have you, quick check in. How you holdin’ up?”

We chatted for the duration of her drive home, then we said our goodbyes so I could start my day while she wound down from hers.

I didn’t tell her about Mustang, and I wasn’t sure why.

Maybe I’d fill her in on Sunday.

With him on my mind again, I wondered if he’d show at the house on Thornhill Road that night. He said he wouldn’t, and I knew better than to hope—but I still wondered.

I was genuinely getting ready to finally get out of bed when my phone rang again.

This time I sat up in excitement when I sawAndywas calling.

“Hi!” I answered without delay.

“Hey, sis.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and that feeling I associated withhomewashed over me.

“It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”

Andy was older than me by five years. We hadn’t been incredibly close when I was really little, but our bond certainly grew after mom got sick. When she died, it grew even stronger. It sucked, but our losses were what kept us so tight, no matter what distance separated us. We were all each other had left in the world.

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