Page 82 of Drifter’s Heart

“Pretty please? It’s for Keith. I think he’s had about as little sleep as me.”

Stevie makes a face. “I heard. Was it that bad?”

My eyebrows rise. And there is gossip in the wind that I’ve missed. This place is never boring, that’s for sure. “Was what that bad?”

“Oh. It was, huh? I promise I won’t say anything.” She shoves a premade roll into the flat toaster and gets my beans on the grind.

Feeling like I’m several conversations behind, I make sure my card pays for the goods first. “Uh, Stevie? I think you’re talking about something that I’m not. I’ve been away at my brother’s rodeo event up north all weekend.”

She squints at me. “Aren’t you dating Tom? The singing nurse?”

I manage a surprise cough, but it’s a real close thing. West won’t be grumpy over that one for sure. “No. I have, um, another prospect.” That sounds callous. “Anyway, moving right along. What happened to Tom? Is he okay?”

She concentrates on my coffee. “Apparently last night’s gig got a bit rowdy. Keith was there. Didn’t he say anything?”

That explains a few bags under his eyes, but the nurses and paramedics socializing to blow off steam is nothing new at this hospital. “Ah, no,” I apologize, inhaling the scent of much-needed ambrosia for a different reason than has been tabled. “So, goss please.”

“Oh. Uh…” Her eyes skew side to side. I lean forward, encouraging the spill of impending tea. “Well, apparently the audience was big. He did great; don’t worry,” she says hastily. “It was a great party, and then afterward, he wasn’t so great. Got a bit snappish toward the bar staff. Maybe drunk? I don’t know. Anyway, it ended up with him outside and everyone else kind of partying on without him and lots of handovers.” She finishes up with my coffee, wraps Keith’s roll, and passes everything over with a flourish.

My mouth hangs open. “Oh. My. Nursing. License. Are you saying Tom got thrown out of his own gig? And he’s okay after that?”

Stevie waves open palms in front of her, turned upward. “I mean, I haven’t seen him this morning? But lots of people are grumpy and…”

I fumble for my phone and send off a text.

Are you alive? I just heard. Please be okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

Proof of life req’d pretty please

Come on, Singing Nurse Squadron of One. My grunge rock star nurse ex-crush will never be anything more now, and that’s kind of sad. The Hottie McNurse title is officially dead. No matter how long I stare at my phone, Tom doesn’t reply.

I grab everything, mumble my thanks to Stevie, and keep stalker-messaging as I head back toward the ER. Not a single message is read, even as I hand my coffee to Keith and keep the bacon-and-egg roll to myself.

Leon sighs and levers up to grab the egg roll I mistakenly kept instead of handing it over. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”

His skyrocketing pain jerks me out of my lost-nurse haze. “Crap. I got those mixed up. Leon. That was very sweet. You don’t need to babysit me. Thank you,” I berate him nicely for his assistance with a smile and turn to Keith. “Please update me on Tom and when you saw him last.”

He shrugs. “He got rowdy with the stage manager after his gig. Something about not getting paid on time. Then the bouncer came through. Then he wasn’t inside anymore.”

I stare, my coffee gripped between my hands. “And you let that happen?”

Keith peers at me. “I had a lot—” His eyes slide sideways to Leon, who drinks in our drama like it’s Montana gold. “Listen, this has been going on for a while, all right? I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” I frown at him. “Tom’s always sweet. Distant. But he’s an artist, right?”

“An artist asshole,” Keith corrects me, his face strained. “We didn’t say anything because you two got on well. And you seemed so… you know.”

“I what now?”

“Ah.” Keith looks slightly alarmed.

“I’m sure he was just trying to help,” Leon pipes in.

“Don’t help a sinking ship,” I tell him. “Keith got himself into this. He can dig himself right out of the Keith-and-Tom-shaped hole he’s fallen into. Why did you leave Tom alone? Apart from the asshole factor that I may or may not have noticed for a full year, apparently?” Am I seething at myself? Yes. Yes, I am. But that matters not a damn whit as I stare at Keith, since he’s the object of my irritation right now, as I continue my rant. “Because that doesn’t seem like it holds with our ‘besties who dance together stay together’ club motto.” A motto that I didn’t hold to the night that I went home with West. But that was then with West, and this is now.

Keith bit into his roll. “Imnnsayynngannthhngoorr.”

“Uh-huh.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Leon, I’ll leave you in Keith’s capable hands while I go search out one singing nurse. Will you be okay here for a while?”