Page 17 of Hearts on the Mend

“Grab those. You left the tap open, so that will help. We’ll thaw the pipes, and tomorrow, I’ll make sure they’re wrapped and someone comes to check out that chimney.”

She drops her hand to her chin, nodding. “Right. Be right back, boss.”

Maybe it’s meant to be cute. My jaw locks anyway. That’s a lot harder to hear after June.

When she returns, we work together to wrap the heating pad around the pipe under the sink and use the hair dryer until the faucet drips. We repeat the same for the bathroom and laundry room, moving aside the top-loading washing machine in the old butler’s pantry. Cassie sits on top, bending down with the hair dryer as I crouch on the floor. She studies me, her eyes full of questions.

I prefer the quiet.

Especially lately. Maybe she guesses as much because she never asks.

It’s almost one in the morning before we finish work.

“Sorry you had to come out tonight,” she says, folding up a hand towel. “Even sorrier everyone keeps trying to drag you out to help me. We never…”

I wait. Answers always come after an uncomfortable pause.

“I was surprised it was you,” she says at last. “What are the odds, right?” Before I can answer, Cassie rushes to add, “Want something to drink? A snack?”

“It’s late, and I’m sure you’re ready for bed.”

“I’m used to wacky sleep schedules between Ruby and swinging ER shifts.”

It’s weird putting together the complete story behind the woman I had the best sex of my life with—no names, no strings attached.

“I’ll be back tomorrow with some supplies. That okay?”

Cassie nods and walks me to the door, and I’m halfway to my truck before she calls out, “Hey.”

The bitter air stings my lungs as I draw in a breath, clutching my truck door. I fight back the cough tickling my throat. “Yeah?”

“Glad it was you who came tonight, Nolan.”

“Sure,” I say, giving a curt wave before I climb up into my truck, biting back the groan as a painful zap rolls over my shoulders. Everything hurts, and the coughing starts.

And then she had to say my name.

Fuck.

Chapter 6

Cassie

“Let’s check your blood pressure,” I say to the eighty-year-old woman sitting opposite me in triage. I’m shadowing half a shift today at North Point Regional Hospital. Brianna, the younger nurse training me, is at the computer behind me, charting the woman’s symptoms.

I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll take pulse-ox reads all morning if it means I don’t have to shadow an MVA trauma or heart attack. No matter what anyone tells you, it doesn’t get easier losing a patient. It’s hard not to take that shit like a personal failure.

Same could be said for kids. All the advice cards I received at my baby shower never warned me that sleepless nights don’t end after the newborn stage. Six years running, and it seems like it’s always something. Last year, there was a six-month stretch where she slept all night, and I thought I had won the lottery.

Then I had to go and decide to get a fucking divorce.

Ruby woke up three times last night. She swore she saw a ghost, then her blankets fell off, and I’m not sure about the last interruption. I was too exhausted. I lifted the quilt and had her crawl in with me just to keep her quiet.

Being in a new house is hard for her, harder still with a new routine. Everything is new. Every. Thing.

I’m drowning in mom guilt.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket. It’s probably Matt again. He’s been bugging me to visit Ruby this weekend. We’ve barely hammered out our new custody agreement, let alone arrange for overnight stays.