I offer him a farewell grin over my shoulder. His nasty attitude is the strongest incentive I could receive. Patients like him are the reason I chose this field. That doubt he hides behind only fuels me to prove myself.
And that’s precisely what I’m about to do.
SCREWED UP
CHAPTER ONE
DANE
I squint against the glare reflecting off the river. The sun is barely cresting the horizon as we approach the final turn. In a few hours, this stretch will be packed with locals and tourists alike, which is precisely why we hit the pavement before dawn. The breeze dances gently over my heated skin, offering a brief reprieve from the exertion. The chill hanging in the air is an added benefit.
There’s a slight burn in my calves as I lengthen my stride. I could go for a third lap before my lungs begin to protest. The traffic will remain minimal for at least thirty minutes. I stare at the approaching bend while the echoes of our steady footfalls whoosh in my ears. From my periphery, I catch Greg’s flushed cheeks and heaving chest. Chances are he won’t take me up on another round. Fucking lightweight. I slow my pace, coming to a stop at the rail before crossing the bridge.
Greg staggers to a sloppy halt beside me. He bends in half, huffing with labored exhales. His shirt is soaked and he tugs at the soggy material. “Damn, dude. That was brutal. What’re you trying to prove?”
I stretch my arms, rotating left to right. There’s a distinct rush flooding through me, pushing for more. I’m barely winded. My muscles feel warm and primed. “Nothing. Maybe you need more time away from the ER.”
He grunts and swipes at his glistening forehead. “OR.”
I wave off his correction. “Same difference.”
His eyes roll to the dewy grass. “Not really, but nice try.”
“Speaking of,” I focus on the vibrant colors splashing across the skyline. The hum of traffic is gaining momentum behind us. “Any big incidents lately?”
Greg studies me for a moment. “Do you actually care?”
“Yeah, I have nothing interesting happening at work. Let me live vicariously.” A noticeable twinge in my hamstrings has me dropping low for a few squats.
He mirrors my movements. “By discussing the tragic misfortune of others? Man, you really are a heartless asshole.”
I mock a wince as if he’d struck a blow. Asshole I may be, but heartless? I straighten my stance with a sigh. “Is it always tragedy that lands them in your care?”
“You don’t visit the emergency room for a little boo-boo.” His deadpan tone gives me a clue to how he really feels about my lacking knowledge.
“Touché.” I salute him. “So, what’s been keeping you busy?”
It’s curiosity, and boredom, more than anything. I haven’t been to the hospital since I broke my arm in first grade—knock on wood. This is my version of a backstage pass.
He peers into the distance. “Did you hear about that major crash on Tuesday?”
That jogs my memory. “On the I-4?”
He bobs his head. “It was bad. A huge pileup. We had every OR full for eighteen hours. It was nonstop.”
There’s something more to the experience that he isn’t saying, but I don’t want to prod too hard at a sore spot.
“What caused it?”
His shoulders bunch with a shrug. “The fog? Who knows. It happens too often.”
That’s a harsh reality anyone in this region has to deal with. “It’s good you were there.”
“There’s only so much I can do.”
“More than me.”
Greg’s mouth dips at the edges, but he nods. “We saved a lot of lives.”
My gut clenches at his quiet downplay. “That’s it?”
“I can’t give you the specifics.” The abrupt shift in his mood proves he’s carrying extra baggage that I’m not privy to. How could he not be? He blows out in a rush. “What’s up with your job?”
“Nothing.” I curl my upper lip at the reminder.
His snort calls bullshit. “Now who’s being evasive?”
“That’s just my style.” I give him a bow.
He lifts his brows in a silent challenge.
I steel myself for the backlash this confession will unleash upon me. “Truth be told, I’m ready for a change of scenery.”
Greg lets his jaw go slack. “You’ve only been at the office gig for two months.”
I avert my gaze, finding a sudden interest in the sidewalk vendors revving their grills and setting up supplies. “My talents are being wasted.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” Disapproval pinches his features.
A low simmer begins to bubble in my veins. “You’d rather have me doing something I hate? It’s dull as fuck, man. I’m not meant for routine monotony. There aren’t even any hot chicks who work in the building. The least they could do is provide some visual stimulation.”
“I doubt that would matter. This is your pattern. You can’t stick around for the long term.” His accusation threatens to blister my skin.
“Fuck off, West.” I clench and open my fists for several counts. The heat prickling at me only burns hotter. “Excuse me for not having the dedication to be a doctor.”
Greg turns to face me. “Dedication isn’t your issue. I just want you to realize this behavior is toxic.”
I draw in a breath through flaring nostrils. “Now you’re a shrink?”
Disappointment drips off his slouching stance. “Don’t do this, Owens.”
“Do what?” I narrow my gaze on him. “Defend myself?”
He returns my glare. “Do you forget that we’ve been friends since freshman year? You’ve been at this cycle for a decade. It’s not new. Push all you want, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then don’t be such a dick. Why do you care about my career goals?” The question might as well be rhetorical. We’ve had a similar version of this exchange at least a dozen times.
“You need stability. Don’t you want a family someday?”
My chuckle is brittle. “That’s hilarious coming from the man who pays rent for a condo he rarely sleeps at.”
Greg crosses his arms. “Not because I’m bed-hopping, asshole.”
I scratch at an itch across my nape. “Does it matter?”
“Not to you.” He groans and yanks at his damp hair. “We aren’t discussing my habits. You’re deflecting, as usual.”
“Can you blame me?”
The strain in his expression fades as my words register. Greg knows my history. The story isn’t glamorous, but it could be worse. My mom chose to leave. Many have their parents stolen by accidents similar to the one Greg just mentioned. But that wasn’t the case for me. She simply didn’t love me enough to stick around. That strikes a kid down, regardless of how resilient he might be. It didn’t help that my father checked out on his parenting responsibilities once she fled. He didn’t exactly provide a ringing endorsement for commitment, or attachments in general, with his defeated attitude. I lost the rose-tinted perspective to dream of accomplishing much. It’s a damn shock that I even graduated college.