That night, Jane showered, pulled on her fave pj’s, which were an old oversize tee and undies, and went into her favorite thinking position—curled up in her bed under a thick down comforter.
Nothing could get to her in here. Not destructive thoughts, not unhappy memories, not the stress of her job, nothing.
She intended to have a good think. Maybe over whether she was doing the right thing about not contacting her grandpa, letting him know she was around.
But that’s not where her brain took her. Nope, instead it kept replaying snapshots in her head of how she’d felt the other night, making s’mores with Levi. Why had he left her a present when they were only pretending to be involved?
But maybe the better question was, why did she care?
When she opened her eyes again, it was morning. She’d slept the entire night through without waking up racked with anxiety.
What was that?
She had to laugh as she got out of bed. She hated anxiety, but now that it had gone missing for a night, she was anxious about losing the anxiety.
Which settled it.
She’d lost her mind.
She hustled through her morning routine. Then she and Charlotte hit up the diner for breakfast before their shifts. The cook came out and slapped a twenty into Charlotte’s waiting palm before vanishing back into the kitchen.
“He lost a bet,” Charlotte said. “Last week he sliced his hand open when I was here.”
“Wait. You come here without me?”
“No, when you’re busy, I stay at home, frozen in time until you come home.”
Jane rolled her eyes and Charlotte smiled. “Jealous. Cute. Anyway, he sliced his hand wide open. I wanted to stitch him up, but he insisted on using Super Glue because he’s got a needle phobia. I told him it was a terrible idea, but have you ever successfully talked a man out of a stupid idea? No, right? So he found some sort of construction glue and electric tape and told me to pick my poison. I told him that either would land him in the ER with an infection. We bet on it—his idea,” she said, raising her hands like she was innocent. “Not mine. So he Super Glued his hand.”
“And because you can’t help yourself, you took the bet knowing you’d win, and it got infected and he landed in the ER,” Jane guessed.
“Bingo. But don’t worry, I’m putting the twenty into his tip jar when we leave.”
Jane laughed. Charlotte couldn’t resist a good bet that she knew she could win, but she also couldn’t take advantage of anyone—she just wasn’t built that way. “You work in the OR. So how did you find out?”
Charlotte’s cheeks went red. Fascinating. Jane pointed at her. “You and Mateo have been talking.”
“No! Well, not about patients. I . . . um, happened to be with Mateo in the staff room when he was paged, and I might have gone with him to the ER, since I was having a slow night.”
“Mateo and Charlotte sitting in a tree,” Jane sang. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G . . .”
Charlotte was head down on the table, ears flaming. “You’re a child.”
“Yep.” Jane stood. “I’ve gotta go and so do you.”
They walked out into the parking lot together. They’d gotten another foot of fresh powdery snow overnight.
“Stay safe,” Charlotte said.
“Always. And right back at you.”
It was a common refrain between them. Jane hit the road heading up to Starwood Peak urgent care and got caught behind a snowplow, which meant she made it to work with barely a minute to spare. She hit the job running and never slowed down.