Page 46 of Forced Proximity
In fact, it was really great, and I could definitely get used to living in that palace Finnian called a home.
However, I had my own life to get back to, and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.
I headed for my room and took the quickest shower I could, washing, shaving, and conditioning before I got out and got dressed in my navy-blue scrubs.
Twelve years ago, when I first started working at the hospital, I’d hated scrubs.
However, over the years, I’d gotten so comfortable in them that they almost felt like a second skin.
Today, I’d chosen my baggiest pair to help with the discomfort I felt when clothes rubbed against sore spots on my skin.
I’d only thought I looked bad last night.
Today, I looked like I’d been sandblasted.
I had several spots on my body that looked like I’d had skin meet with concrete.
One of those spots was front and center on my face, right above my left eyebrow.
I covered it up as best as I could with makeup and dried my hair.
Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to go, heading to the front door armed with nothing more than my nursing bag.
I felt naked without my purse or my phone, but I’d figure those two things out as soon as I could.
I’d have to figure out what I needed to do when I lost my ID, cell phone, and all of my other personal effects.
The thought of going to the Department of Motor Vehicles made my skin crawl.
I’d heard nightmare stories lately about how busy it was.
And at this point you had to make an appointment that was three months out.
I was not looking forward to my free time today when I made those calls I needed to make.
Hopefully I got the time I needed, too, because delaying this any further than necessary would likely suck.
I didn’t know how you were supposed to live without your ID and your cards.
The only good thing I could say was that I had my debit card hooked up to my Apple Pay on my watch.
I could at least go anywhere that accepted that.
Grabbing my spare car keys, I headed outside to the Old Beast, a 1981 Chevy Blazer, and closed the door.
I started the Blazer up—thankful that I hadn’t paid the airport parking—and let it idle for a few short minutes while I got my head straight.
Once I felt okay to drive—because damn, I was tired—I headed to work, surprised when I made every single light between my apartment and the hospital.
And I’m not exaggerating, either.
I made every single one.
My mood was pleasantly uplifted when I pulled into my regular parking spot and got out.
That mood abruptly plummeted the moment I saw my sister standing at the entrance with her arms crossed over her chest.
I cursed myself for ever telling her where to find me when she needed me, and angrily started walking.
