2. Indy

CHAPTER TWO

Indy

" H ow long are you going to keep this up?" Stevie sighs from her spot next to me behind the jewelry display counter.

"Keep what up?" I ask brightly as if I have no idea what she's talking about. The annoyed look she gives me says not to mess with her. It's probably solid advice, considering she's on day eighteen of her period, and the poor thing is miserable. Stevie has Endometriosis, as well as Uterine Fibroids. Both are horrible. Basically, her uterus hates her. Sometimes, she has no period, while other times, she'll have them for months straight, and she's constantly in pain. Like me, she does her best not to show it because what's the point? Of course, we hurt—we always hurt. But we keep going while we can anyway.

"You can't keep doing these night shifts, and if you're going to, I'm going to have to institute a sweatpants-after-dark rule." Stevie states as she unbuttons her jeans and sighs in relief; her bloating today must be worse than usual. "You know it's fucking with your schedule. Your brother hates it and takes his frustration out on me since you ignore him, and it's not good for your health to be here so late and then at the hospital in the morning. It's too much for you, and it's starting to show."

"That reminds me," I say as I pull out my phone, completely ignoring her. It's not to be rude. I know she's right, but I don't want to admit it. Her words, however truthful they may be, hurt. "I need to see if Janie can help me next week. There's a little girl that wants to see a specific princess, and I can't remember her name, but I think Janie got famous for cosplaying her on social media." Stevie stares at me blankly while I send a quick text to Janie.

"Did you absorb anything I just said?"

"Yes, you think I'm doing too much, and Ash is being a baby. Look, I know it's a lot, but I like working here. It helps me fund the nonprofit. In fact, it's the only way I can fund it because I don't have the energy to go out and network."

"So work during the day! You'd make more money and be here less!" Stevie groans, and I raise a brow.

"Are you wanting to stop the night shift?" I ask tentatively, and I see the guilt on her face. I know she's doing the night shift for me. "Ah, gotcha. Okay, I'll switch."

"Indy."

I smile at her and wave my hand. "You're right. I need the break, and so do you. This just became easier than the alternative." I mutter as Stevie lets out a sympathetic breath.

"Babe, you know no one thinks about what happened, right?" Muttering an "uh huh," I roll my eyes while she continues. "You're only obsessively concerned about it because you have some weird crush on Derek, and he called you darlin'." My face and ears go hot as I stare at her smirk with wide eyes.

"Shut up!" I snip, adding an unusually sharp tone to my otherwise calm voice. Stevie, unaffected by my warning, gives me a blank look and shakes her head slightly.

"Who the fuck are you worried about hearing us? Fucking Brooks?" She sneers, and I laugh at her scathing tone when she says his name.

"No, I just… it was embarrassing, alright? And then I tried to play it cool today when I quite literally bumped into him, but alas…" I sigh wearily while shaking my head. "He snapped at me, and I can't blame him. I was just so nervous, and you know when I'm nervous, I can't stop talking!"

"I still think you should've let me yell at him. His grouchy attitude is fine except when it's directed at you. You're way too nice."

"I get the feeling not many people are nice to him. So, I would rather him remember me as someone who smiles when I see him." I shrug while feeling the heat in my cheeks.

Like he wants you anywhere near him, he was ready to run the moment you tripped and fell into him.

Ignoring my dark thoughts, I force my smile and change the subject, "So, when are you going to stop giving that man hell?" I gesture with my head toward the wall where Brooks is sitting on the other side because Stevie has a twenty-foot rule with the poor guy.

"Pft! Never! He's a terrible person who deserves nothing but mildly annoying misfortune for all eternity." She huffs and sits back.

"And this was over what again? A cookie?" Stevie's face falls, and she looks at me as if I've insulted her.

"He came into my bakery, Indiana. My fucking sanctuary and asked for a danish, but a little boy said he wanted it. So I told Brooks to pick something else, and he got all pissy and threw a fit. I went in the back and got him a damn peach one because it's all we had. That man took a bite, looked right into my soul, and said it didn't live up to the hype. He can rot in hell. My danishes are fucking amazing, and he didn't deserve it, and now he calls me Peaches just to further insult me."

I fight the smile as I listen to her rant. This hatred has been building over the past few months, especially after Janie hired Brooks to stay with us during the night shift. Well, Stevie says hate, but it's not hard to see the way she looks at him. Well, actually, no. She looks at him with irritation, though I'm not sure he's earned it. Brooks, however, he looks at Stevie like she's a gift from god. It's kind of sad because she has, and will, whack him over his head, thus the twenty-foot rule.

"Anyway," Stevie states through clenched teeth. "Derek doesn't care about your accident, and he probably hasn't given much, if any, thought to your encounter earlier. You know how he is, the lone wolf or whatever. Realistically, you'll probably never even see him during the day. And if you do, he'll just glare at something until you move on like he does with the rest of us."

I chuckle as we stand and start closing the shop. I don't understand the whole grumpy persona that the shop has tagged Derek with. I mean, he's quiet, but he's never been anything but nice to me. Well, until today. I was so nervous when I saw him in line at the burrito shop I stumbled over myself. Something I've been doing a lot the last two red days. That's how I categorize my days, by color instead of good or bad. When you live with chronic pain and illness, you come up with other ways to describe your days. I might be smiling and laughing and in a positive mindset, but I may also be in terrible pain. I picked it up while working as a nurse at the children's hospital, and it stuck with me. So, I have five colored bracelets showing my five levels.

Pink is as bad as it gets. That's when I'm usually unable to move and could require medical attention if it doesn't ease. It's when my relapse is in full force. Blue means I need to rest, I'm hurting too much, and I need to assess myself frequently to see if I'm close to hitting the pink stage. Red means proceed with caution—I'm in pain, but can usually take care of it with my medication. Yellow is an ordinary day; pain is manageable, and little to no medication is required. Then there's purple. My unicorn. It means I'm having the best day. Unfortunately, I haven't had a day worthy of a purple bracelet in a long time.

I wasn't embarrassed when I had my accident. I was embarrassed it happened in front of Derek. Sure, I liked the guy. I still have a crush on him, not that it matters. He has no interest in me, and I'm not looking for anything either. That day, despite my better judgment, I'd gone to get coffee with a guy. It was a blue day. I knew better than to go, but I did. I showed up and couldn't keep my balance, and my speech started slurring. The guy was a complete and total jerk about it, and when I told him I had MS, he said he wasn't looking to be a nurse. Feeling emotional, rejected, and embarrassed, and despite my better judgment, I went to work at Hel's.

I was upset, and Janie and Atlas were trying to talk to me. I got overwhelmed, and the pain was too much to bear, and I lost control of my bladder. It's not the first time it's happened. It can be common during some relapses, and I've learned to just smile through it and move on over the years. Life's too short to cry over wet pants. But I was embarrassed by that asshole. Then, to have it happen in front of the guy I'd never get, and for the same reason, the other guy wouldn't even have coffee with me. It was too much, and I couldn't handle it. And then the time I was in Sunday's dance studio, trying to feel a little normal with my girlfriends, only to be unable to stand from a seated position, and a shirtless Derek had to help me. Ugh.

I've been sick for a long time and worked with sick kids my entire adult life. The one thing we always try to implement is not to live in the darkness. A positive attitude and healthy self-esteem are so important. But that relapse got me, and I wanted to hide. Then, this night shift thing became my new normal. I miss Fox, Atlas, and Janie. I rarely see them anymore, and I know these extra shifts are wearing on Stevie. It's not fair to ask her to continue because I'm having a moment. Well, more than a moment. This has been going on for months now and I think it's time to get back into a routine. I think about Derek and the little bug wedged firmly up his butt with me. He snapped at me over not working during the day on his birthday. Well, I've got news for him. He may think I won't be there, but I will, and I'm going to make the biggest deal out of his birthday just for that little attitude.

It's about two thirty in the morning when Stevie and I finish up and walk out into the crisp night. I'm so exhausted I almost told her and Brooks to leave me in the shop because the thought of going down these stairs and then climbing the stairs at the studio apartment I share with Stevie makes me want to cry. I need to get a different place to live, but the money I make at Hel's goes toward paying any medical bills not covered by my health insurance, as well as food, my share of the rent, and the rest goes toward the nonprofit I started, the Crown Project. It mainly consists of me and sometimes a couple of the girls I beg to help. We dress up like princesses, go to different wings of children's hospitals, and hang out with the kids. We tell them stories, do crafts, and doanything to try to lift their spirits. I love my nonprofit, and I sink every available dime I have into it because I want those kids to have their purple days.

"Alright, Indy," Brooks' deep voice states as he holds out his massive hand. "I see we're red today; you want me to carry you down?"

"I mean," I beam at him, putting on my best show because we don't get embarrassed when we need help. "I won't say no to a ride." I hear Stevie snort and can't help but chuckle as I get onto Brooks' back.

"Don't be jealous, Peaches." Brooks smirks and gives Stevie a wink. "Maybe if you ask nicely, I can give you a ride, too." I giggle into Brooks' back as Stevie stands mortified, mouth agape.

"I would sooner jump over this railing than take a ride from you, Dawson." Stevie huffs and is about to go down the steps when Brooks reaches out and puts his hand in front of Stevie to block her movements. I'm about to ask what's going on when I see the lights of what looks like an SUV turn on and drive off.

"That's weird," I murmur.

"Probably just someone sobering up or something," Stevie states as we continue down the stairs and say good night to Brooks.

"So," Stevie turns on her car and looks at me. "Night shift?"

I sigh and give her a small, tired smile. "No more night shift."

My smartwatch reads three in the morning when I walk into the tiny bathroom of Stevie's studio apartment. I know I'll hear about my lack of rest from the medical staff when I get to the hospital for my infusion therapy, but it is what it is. I'll just be happy to get this over and done with. I only go in every six months for the infusions, but it's unpleasant, and the side effects can be rough, especially if I'm already having a red day, but I have my fingers crossed that I'll be able to nap at least some of the five hours I'll be hooked up.

Taking off my clothes, I toss them on the floor while frowning at the growing pile of dirty clothes. I really need to get around to doing laundry; I think I'm down to my last pair of panties. But gathering everything and going to a laundromat is such a chore.

Everything is a chore for you.

"Stop it," I whisper to my darkness while taking a deep breath and turning on the shower, making sure the temperature is cool. I have a hard time with heat, so I work as hard as possible to keep myself cool.

I wrap my long hair up in a twist and cover the mess of curls. I try to space out my hair washes because it's such a process, and since I'm going to get infusions tomorrow, I may see if Janie will wash it for me afterward. "Crap," I mutter, looking at the bruise on my outer thigh from my injection yesterday. Ole righty always seems to bruise if not hit just right, and with my very pale skin, it looks even worse than it is. I look over my slight frame as I twist to look at the other leg, making sure she's alright. Satisfied, I brush my teeth while singing in my head, trying not to allow the voices to consume me tonight. I'm too tired, and if I allow them to start, they won't let me sleep.

Your bright eyes and long black curls are pretty…

It sighs as if bored.

However, your comically short stature and little voice leave something to be desired. And the boobs. God, it's no wonder men don't give you a second look.

I groan while groping my baby Bs, trying to push them up with my hands. "Such bullshit," I mutter before washing my face. "You could've at least given me tits or something," I say to no one in particular before gripping the towel bar to balance myself while climbing into the tub. Nothing about this place is accessible. But my brother moved, and his new home has just as many stairs as Stevie's. Not to mention, I want him to focus on his new family. I don't have anywhere else to go. It's best to stay here until I can find another roommate.

I pull myself out of the shower and slip on my pajamas before heading to the living room, which also acts as our bedroom. Stevie's already on the couch sleeping, and I'd feel bad for waking her to move so we can pull out the mattress. Instead, I grab my comforters and make a little bed on the floor before setting my alarm on my watch to wake me up in three hours.

Today is going to suck.