Page 4 of Whiskey Lullaby
Shrugging, I pretended to pull at an imaginary string on my scrubs. “It’sfine.”
“You never get over your first love, no matter how much of a dick hewas.”
“I didn’t love him.” How could you love a guy that texted you saying you were his world while he literally had his dick in anothergirl?
One of Meg’s perfectly sculpted brows arched. Her lips kicked up on one side. “Mmhmm.”
“What did he do this time? Get in a fight?” I asked, already fully aware that was the only logicalanswer.
“Of course, but this time, he got his ass kicked.” There was an upbeat vibrato to her voice, like she wanted to pat the back of whoever tore into Max. “I’m sure he deservedit.”
“Oh, I’msure.”
We walked down the hall, past Miss Smith sitting in a wheelchair by the nurses’ station. Miss Smith grinned. “Good to see you home,Hannah.”
“It’s good to be home.” I lied. It wasn’tgood.
“See, it’s not so bad being back home, right?” Meg nudged me. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve spent half the night catching up with people that have comein.”
“I’ve known every patient I’ve treated, that has to be a HIPPA violation orsomething.”
“Nah, now, going out and blabbing that Britney Swinson shuffled in with a case of the clap for the third time this year—that’sa HIPPAviolation.”
I swiped a hand down my face. “Meg…”
“I’m joking.” She laughed. “Maybe…” She flashed that Miss America smile that has gotten her out of more tickets than I can count. And let me just say,thatsmile was deceiving. Meg McKinney was anything but a pageant queen. Momma always called her rough around the edges. She was the girl in high school that hiked her skirt up and bent at the waist when she dropped her pencil so the boys could get a nice view of her Victoria Secret panties. She considered boys a pastime while I considered them a nuisance, which is why people never understood why she and the preacher’s daughter were friends. But there’s a lot more to people than the things they disagreeon…
One of the residents walked by with his shoulders back and head held high in that “I got a chip on my shoulder” way. Meg jerked her chin in his direction. “Look at his ass,Hannah.”
I took a fleeting glance before grabbing my badge and walking to one of the time clocks by the restrooms. “Not thatimpressive.”
“Are you kidding me? How many doctors have you seen with a butt likethat?”
“I don’t really keeptrack.”
“That’s a shame.” She was still busy watching the man walk down thehall.
“Alright, well, my shift ended ten minutes ago, so. . .” I swiped my ID card through the slot, watching the little green lightblink.
“You at work tomorrow?” Megasked.
“Yep. Three twelves thisweek.”
“See you tomorrow then.” She waved before grabbing a chart and disappearing into one of therooms.
I stopped outside the doors to the waiting room, squirting hand sanitizer into my hand while the automatic doors slowly open. Mr. Brenner, my old high school teacher, waved from one of the plastic waiting room chairs. I waved back before I slipped outside into the muggy night air. Alabama heat has a habit of wrapping around you like a wool blanket. Uncomfortable and unbearablystuffy.
Very little had changed in that little town since I’d left two years ago. Unfortunately, it seemed the only thing that had changed was the reason I washome.
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The light to the front porch was on when I pulled down the gravel drive and parked next to Daddy’s F-150. After I cut the engine, I sat in the dark with my heart hammering against myribs.
All day, I had been with sick people. I watched three people die, but all that meant was that I was used to death—not immune to it. It’s hard to watch someone suffer, but watching your mothersuffer…
You can’t avoid this, Hannah.Taking a breath, I pushed open the car door to the distinct hum of cicadas. Sampson, my brother’s hound dog, came bolting off the porch, his ears waving behind him like a tattered flag,barking.
“It’s just me, shhh!” I told him before he jumped up, placed his paws against my legs, and licked my hand. “Why are you outside,anyway?”
