Page 12 of One Night Entanglement
The cashier, a kid who can't be more than nineteen, is watching our exchange with wide eyes, his head moving back and forth like he's watching a tennis match. "Uh, y'all need to pay for anything?" he asks nervously.
"Yeah," I say, not taking my eyes off Jenna. I pull out a five and toss it on the counter. "Keep the change."
Jenna reaches around and grabs a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter. She slams them down. "Ring these up," she snaps at the cashier.
The kid fumbles with the register, clearly wanting to be anywhere but in the middle of whatever this is. "That'll be, uh, seven forty-nine."
She throws a ten at him and doesn't wait for change. As she heads for the door, she pauses next to me.
"Give Cecily my regards," she says sweetly. "Tell her I hope she's more careful in the future."
And then she's gone, leaving me standing there with rage coursing through my veins and the absolute certainty that this isn't over. Not by a long shot.
I grab my coffee and energy bar and head for the door, my mind already racing. I need to call Troy, need to document this conversation, need to make sure Cecily knows that the Salyers family and their associates are escalating this shit.
But more than that, I need to figure out how to keep the woman I never stopped loving safe without going to jail for murder and turning in my badge. Because right now, that's feeling like a very real possibility.
10
Cecily
I’m sitting in the HR office of a small regional hospital. I’d already applied there. Months and months ago. And again this morning before I drove myself over here. But I know that applications like that get filed in the trash or just sit in someone’s inbox forever. I need to make an impression, to make myself stand out in the crowd. It’s always harder to say no to someone in person.
“Miss Hollingsworth, Mrs. Whitley will see you now.”
I stand up, smoothing the black pants and tugging my shirt to remove any wrinkles. It’s my best outfit, reserved for funerals and court—when I had to go. Sadly, as a nurse, I’d had to go more than once. Usually family court, but not always.
Walking into the office, I smile at the middle-aged woman sitting behind the desk with her tidy hair and oversized glasses on a rhinestone chain. She’s all business on the outside, but clearly likes a little sparkle.
“Mrs. Whitley, thank you for seeing me without an appointment.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t, but I reviewed your resume. Experienced nurses willing to work any hours are a rare commodity. I’ll get right to the point, Miss Hollingsworth. I already called the HR director at Bellehaven,” she said. “And I can’t hire you.”
My heart just sinks. “I see.”
“I can’t hire you because the management company that operates Bellehaven has just signed the paperwork to take over ours, as well. If I hired you, in a very short time, I would be forced to fire you again… but I’m not without sympathy,” she says. “My nephew died of an overdose, Miss Hollingsworth. An overdose on drugs he bought from Evan Salyers.”
“I’m very sorry,” I say. “I can’t imagine.”
She scribbles something on a sticky note and passes it to me. “That’s a doctor with a clinic on Highway 38. It’s new. Just starting up. But he’s looking for nurses. The pay won’t be great, but the hours will be better than anything you’d get in a hospital. I’ve already called him and told him you’ll be stopping by.”
I take the sticky note like it’s a lifeline “Thank you, Mrs. Whitley. You’ve just saved my life… at the very least my sanity.”
“Nobody should have to lose everything just for doing the right thing.”
My eyes start to prickle. I can feel the tears coming and I don’t want to be a blubbering mess in front of this very tidy and extremely organized woman. “I should go, but you have no idea how much I appreciate this. It’s been a while since anyone has been kind to me for no reason.”
But I haven’t given anyone the opportunity. I’ve hibernated in my house and licked my wounds.
“That’s a shame, Miss Hollingsworth. It truly is. I hope this will not be your last encounter with kindness.”
Three hours later,pending a background check and verification of active licensure, I have a job. It’s a small clinic. A lobby and reception area, an office, three exam rooms, and a break room—and all of that is in what used to be a brick ranch house. Part of that old subdivision had been bulldozed to make way for a strip mall with a sub shop, vape shop, bank branch, and a nail salon. Your basics, I guess. But that doesn’t matter. I am employed, or at least hovering on the brink of it.
I take out my phone as I’m sitting there in my car all but giddy with it, and I pull up Quinn’s contact info. I hit send on the call before I can talk myself out of it and he picks up almost instantly.
“Are you upwardly mobile again?” he asks.
I laugh at that. “No one uses that phrase nowadays. And not exactly upwardly, more like laterally with the slightest of inclines. It’s a fraction of what I made at the hospital, but the hours are good and I get to do what I love—and I do love being a nurse. I think that’s part of what’s been wrong with me. I thought I was done. I thought I’d never find work as a nurse again unless I uprooted and left everything behind… and I grieved over that. Like someone had died.”
