Good Boy (WAGs) by Elle Kennedy & Sarina Bowen

Author:Elle Kennedy & Sarina Bowen [Kennedy, Elle & Bowen, Sarina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2024-08-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

We Stand on Guard for Thee

Jess

The next two weeks of my life are crazy.

I pass all my anatomy quizzes by never leaving the library except for classes and to sleep. Clinical observation work continues too, and lately we’re visiting a geriatric home. They taught us to take vital signs, so now we even touch the patients sometimes. The cases there can be sad, but not kids-with-cancer sad.

My friend Dyson works with geriatric patients, and when we chatted on the phone, he gave me a tip. “Sing Ella Fitzgerald,” he said.

“What?”

“Learn some Ella tunes, and sing one if the patient isn’t cooperating. Trust me. And your voice doesn’t even suck.”

That wasn’t exactly high praise, but just in case he was onto something, I memorized the lyrics to “They Can’t Take That Away from Me.”

A week later, I called Dyson back to tell him he’s a genius.

“Well, obvs,” he said. “But what did I do this time?”

“When I sing Ella, the oldsters will let me do anything. Came in handy on my first blood draw.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sure that went smoothly.” He giggled.

“The poor man gritted his dentures,” I confessed. “But when I sang about the way he wore his hat, he relaxed.”

“Good girl. And this shit takes practice. You’ll be findin’ them veins in no time.”

I hoped so. Even a couple of months in, I still wake up every morning with the feeling that I’m holding on by the skin of my teeth. My schedule is so crazy that I’ve barely seen my brother or Wes. Their schedules are nutty too, now that their hockey seasons have really begun.

But tonight, finally, I’m going to see Wes’s game with Jamie, who has a pair of comped season tickets. I missed the first one he invited me to because Violet convinced me that it would be a sacrilege to miss an evening lecture about medical ethics.

I deserve a night out, damn it. So even though I have a paper to write this week, I meet Jamie at the arena and follow him toward his seats. “We’re only a few rows up from the penalty box,” he says, pointing to two open seats in row E.

My feet freeze on the staircase though, because I see Mama Riley sitting in the third seat in. At six feet and change, even from the back, she’s easy to spot.

“What’s the matter?” Jamie asks, waiting for me.

“Um…” Shit! I haven’t spoken to Blake since the world’s most stressful baby shower. He hasn’t called or texted, and he didn’t turn up either of the nights I visited my brother. He might even be avoiding me. “Let’s get some food first,” I say quickly. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

He gives me his version of an irritated look—a flicker of disapproval and then a relaxed shrug.

I drag him back into the crowds and into line at a mac-and-cheese stand that calls to me. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy.”

“Yeah?” Jamie is reading the menu, unconcerned.

“A couple of weeks ago, I was Blake Riley’s date for a thing.

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