Page 39 of Lose You to Find Me

She waves me off. “I’ll ask Caleb for it.” Lips parting in confusion at the casual statement, I remain quiet until she decides to elaborate. “I work at the hospital. I’m one of his dad’s nurses.”

Wow. Small world. “That’s a tough job, especially if you work with a lot of patients like him.” The dying ones, that is. She has to be strong to cope with being surrounded by people you can’t save.

She shrugs, her friendly expression not falling or morphing into anything else. “It can be, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What’s that saying? Everyone comes into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I’d like to think the patients who come into my life are there to make a difference somehow.”

I find myself nodding along, a tight smile on my face despite the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I didn’t catch your name,” I tell her.

She holds out her hand. “Emma.”

We’re quiet for a moment before the puppy in her arms starts barking and squirming, demanding to be let down. “You’d better get going before he pees on you. That’d be about my luck.”

Her nose scrunches. “Trust me, it’s already happened at least three times since the puppies were born. Pee everywhere. Then again, you never know what fluids you’ll get on you in the hospital.” She shrugs again. “I told myself it’s practice for whenever I become a mom someday. Everyone says to get a dog before you have a kid, so you know what you’re in for.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m just looking for a dog right now.”

Emma laughs lightly. “You just went green. I’m teasing. I should have an answer about the puppies in the next week or two.”

I watch her and my potential four-legged roommate walk away after waving them off.

Walking toward the trail, I find myself smiling at the step I’m finally taking to move forward after a little too long of sulking in the choices I made in the past. The hole in my chest is still there, but it doesn’t feel as intimidating.

When I get home, I see a basket full of ripe tomatoes on the doorstep and a little note about the best ways to eat them. My smile widens in the direction of Mr. Applebee’s house, knowing he’s the one who brought them.

For the first time in a long while, I feel hope.

Chapter Fifteen

RAINE

Mr. Applebee istending to one of his garden boxes when I round the white fence splitting our properties after another long day at work. I’m tired, my back hurts, and stress has given me another headache that makes my eyes ache.

“Thank you for the tomatoes,” I tell my neighbor, stopping at the little gate door of his property. “I cut one up for BLT sandwiches.”

My fingers smooth along the top of the fence. He built it all on his own. I remember when he and his wife, a cute little woman who couldn’t have stood taller than four foot nine, spent two weeks painting it white a long time ago.

The elderly man looks up, pausing what he’s doing with the soil. He doesn’t say anything at first but eventually glances down at his dirtied gardening gloves with a short nod. “You’re welcome.”

His voice is gravelly. Nobody really hears it anymore since his wife passed years ago. For the most part, he keeps to himself. He gardens, he goes to the grocery store, and he walks to the cemetery a block away to visit the grave of the woman he loved. I’m not sure he has any family around, but if he does, they don’t see him. Does he get any social interaction?

Mom told me not to bother him, but maybe he needs that once in a while. “What do you do in the winter when it’s too cold to grow anything?”

Once again, he stops what he’s doing to look up at me. Huffing out a sigh, he peels off his gloves and slowly pushes to standing. “Why do you want to know?”

I lift a shoulder innocently. “I like hearing people’s stories. Did you know I’m in school for psychology?”

He drops the gloves into the wheelbarrow beside him. “I’m not looking for a therapist, young lady.”

My lips curl in amusement. “That’s good because I’m not a certified therapist. Not yet anyway. I’m working on it.”

He stares at me.

My eyes go to my childhood home, which I’m sure is empty as always. I don’t want to be alone right now. That means constantly thinking, and I want to shut my brain off for a little while.

I lean against the fence. “Can I ask you something?”

He closes his eyes for a second and walks around the garden box toward where I’m standing. “Well, nothing’s stopped you from asking questions so far.”

“Do you have any kids?” I ask, not remembering any growing up. They haven’t always lived next door, but this was his home for a long time. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve only ever seen you here. It must get kind of lonely. I get lonely sometimes.”

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