“I’ve barely looked,” I tell him honestly, then add, “I’ll find something.”
“I know a couple girls who go to Whittaker. They live just off campus and one of them mentioned they were looking for a third roommate. If you want me to put you in contact with them, I’d be happy to.”
“Oh wow. Thank you, but I think I prefer to live alone.”
“Why? It’s so boring.”
I laugh. “I take it you live alone?”
“I had roommates until recently. Now my place feels so quiet and empty. I hate it.” There’s a whine to his voice that emphasizes just how much he hates it.
“I like the quiet. It’s hard with my schedule too. I’m sleeping while everyone else is up.”
“I never asked you the other night, what made you decide to be a nurse?” He rests his right hand on the table. His fingers are long and strong looking. His arms and chest are covered with a long-sleeved black shirt that stretches over his muscular frame. He’s built exactly like you’d expect for a professional athlete.
“My cousin was born with a heart defect and spent a few years of middle school in and out of hospitals. She’s fine now, but we were close, and I spent a lot of time visiting her when she was there. The experience stuck with me. It was different than I expected. The nurses were fun and happy. They played games with her and talked about pop culture and brought in books and magazines they thought she’d like. I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t sound like much, but they made all the difference in how she felt about missing school and time with friends. She keeps in contact with at least one still today.”
“That’s cool.” The way he smiles at me like I just said something far more exciting than I did makes my stomach flip.
“Did you always want to be a hockey player?”
“Not always. For a while I wanted to be a firefighter.”
“What made you change your mind?”
His smile gets shy, which is a very odd look for Ash Kelly, and I find myself leaning in, eager to hear his answer.
“I found out that not every firefighter gets their own Dalmatian. I was five and my kindergarten class went to the local fire station.” He places his right hand over his heart. “Like a knife to the chest.”
“The Dalmatian does really make the job.”
“Right? They didn’t have any dogs there. Major bummer.” He grins. “And for a very brief time I thought I was going to be a rock star.”
“Do you sing?”
“No.” He gives his head a brief shake. “But I spent one ear-piercing week trying to learn guitar.”
Laughter spills out of me at his admission. “A firefighter, a rock star, and a hockey player, huh?”
“I can’t imagine it any different now.”
“Me either.”
His mouth curves. “Nurse Bridget. I still can’t believe I had to get injured to find you again.”
I run my thumb along the back of my ring on my middle finger, twisting the gold band around absently. “I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t how I would have scripted it, but shit happens.” His gaze drops to my scrub top where my name badge hangs off the front pocket. “Being a nurse suits you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I’m learning.” After another sip of coffee, he asks, “Why’d you give up tennis?”
Why’d I do any number of the things I did over the past two years? Why’d I stop hanging out with friends or going home to see my family? Quitting tennis is just one more bad decision I made among many.
I go with, “It was hard to juggle it with school and work.”
Not the complete truth, but it isn’t a lie either.
“How long until you graduate?”
“May.”
Speaking of school, I turn my wrist over to check the time. The minutes are flying by and I need to get home to shower and change before my first class.
“You need to go?” Ash asks.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. The professor for my morning class is a stickler for being on time.”
“I get it. Plans this weekend? I’d love to take you out sometime. Drinks? Dinner?”
There’s a part of me that wants to say yes, but even if I were ready to date again after Gabe—and I’m not, going out with Ash would be like signing up for a marathon without training. “Thank you, but I can’t.”
“Because you’re busy.” His brows lift in a playful, teasing expression.
“It’s only been a month since my ex and I broke up and I’m not really in a place mentally or emotionally to get involved with anyone yet.” It’s honest, but I’m sure he thinks I’m blowing him off. A hint of sadness creeps in as I realize this is probably the last time I’ll ever see him. “Thank you for the coffee and for asking me out. It’s the nicest thing that’s happened to me in a while.”
“You deserve nice things,” he says with such certainty that I wonder if he has any idea how hard the past month has been.
I clear my throat and swallow down my emotions. “I hope your shoulder heals quickly.”
“Thanks.” He pulls a napkin from the holder. “You got a pen?”
I hand him one from my backpack and watch as he scribbles on one side of the napkin and then turns it over and scribbles on the other side.
“That’s my number,” he says as he sets the pen down on top of it and slides it toward me. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”
His name and number stare up at me in bold slanted letters. I flip it over and then look up at him quizzically.
“That is the name and number of the girl I was telling you about with the room for rent. In case you don’t find another place. I told her about you. She’s cool. I think you two would get along well.”
I’m oddly touched by the gesture even if there’s no way I’m calling some random girl that he probably slept with. I fold it and tuck it inside the front pocket of my backpack. “Thank you. Again.”
His blue gaze holds mine. “You’re welcome, Nurse Bridget.”
Saturday morning, I pull the pillow over my head and groan. It’s the third day in a row I’ve woken up to the sound of landscapers hard at work before sunrise. Chainsaws, leaf blowers, pressure washers, and today…some sort of weird, loud hissing noise?
I forgave the last two days because it was the middle of the day and I’m used to noise and distraction while I’m trying to sleep during normal work hours. I didn’t even hold it against them (too much) when they left their tools on my front porch yesterday afternoon during their lunch break and I ran out for my afternoon classes and nearly ate concrete as I tripped and fell over a weed whacker.
The point is, I understand that people need to do their jobs and not everyone can work a traditional eight to five. Trust me, I get it. But it’s the weekend and I had big plans of sleeping in.