Page 29 of The Curveball
With Molly stable and settled, and no more new patients for the time being, the last hour of my shift starts to drag. I’m seated at the nursing station, chatting with one of my new colleagues, when another comes in bearing a tray of coffee cups.
“Ugh, it’s pouring out there,” she complains, settingthe tray down before moving to the break room to put away her belongings.
Great. I’ve got to walk back to the hotel tonight, and I don’t have a jacket with me.
“Welcome to Vancouver Island,” another nurse mutters. “Where the only predictable thing is how unpredictable the weather can be.”
I smile along with the others, then go to open up a transit app and see what time the bus will come once I’m off, when I see that a text message came through an hour ago.
BRADY: Hey, how’s your day going? Baby is the size of a small apple by now. Cool huh.
BRADY: Oh I read an article about ginger for nausea. So I grabbed some ginger candies, I can give them to you next time I see you. Maybe they’ll help.
“Okay, who’s got you looking all mushy and happy? Baby daddy?”
I glance up and see Heather, one of the physiotherapists, leaning against the desk. She caught me touching my stomach more than once, and I confessed my pregnancy to her. “Oh, um, yeah, but I wasn’t…” I trail off because damn it, I am smiling. “Yeah, his name is Brady. He was telling me the baby’s the size of a small apple.”
Heather drops into the chair next to me and props her head on her hand. “That’s freaking adorable. I love that he’s excited for you. How long have you two been together?”
Oh shit.
I’m saved from answering that very awkward question by someone calling Heather’s name.
“Talk later, ’kay?” she says, hopping up and heading off toward the nurse that needs her help.
Breathing a mental sigh of relief, I glance back down at my phone to the additional texts that have come in from Brady.
BRADY: I don’t mean to bother you again while you’re working but do you have a way to get home tonight? The weather’s pretty nasty out there.
SAGE: Hey, that’s cool about the ginger. And I’m fine, the place I’m staying now isn’t too far from the hospital. I can take the bus if the weather’s really gross.
I go to pocket my phone when it vibrates with another message. Frowning, I pull it out. It’s Brady again.
BRADY: Let me drive you home.
My gut reaction is to refuse. I don’t want to become dependent on him or give him the impression he can just waltz in and take over my life.
SAGE: No really, it’s okay. The bus is fine.
BRADY: Sage, please? I’d feel better if I gave you a ride. I’m done at the stadium, I can be there in twenty minutes.
SAGE: I’m not off for another hour.
BRADY: I’ll wait.
BRADY: Just say yes.
I chew on my lip as I stare at the messages. I don’t really have a reason to say no. If I’m serious about letting this man into my life, I shouldn’t be so stubborn about a ride home.
SAGE: Okay, fine. Thanks, a ride would be nice.
BRADY: See you soon. Text me when you’re walking out and I’ll pull up out front.
Sure enough, an hour later, when I walk out the sliding glass doors of the ER, he’s waiting with an open umbrella.
“Hey, where’s your coat?” he asks as we hurry to his car.
It’s such a dad thing to say, which, given what he told me about being the guardian to his siblings, makes my heart melt just a little.
