Chapter Three

Danica

Present Day

B eep. Beep. Beep. Groaning, I roll over in my bed, fumbling through the darkness as I slap the nightstand behind me in a groggy attempt to shut off the fucking obnoxious ring tone. Bringing the phone to my ear, I pry my bleary eyes open even as I grumble, answering. “Bitch, I fucking hate you.”

“Good morning sunshine! Nice to talk to you too.” Her overly peppy tone only grates on my nerves as I pull the phone away from my eyes, squinting through the darkness at the bright screen.

“Oh my god. Seriously? It is two in the fucking morning, Sierra. Why do you do this to me?” Groaning, I push past the sleepy fog to think about all the ways I could slowly murder my best friend.

“Oh, come on now! It’s five a.m. over here. Dawn is about to break through the cloudless sky and the early bird catches the worm, you know.” I can hear the wink in her voice, the tinkling laughter in her words. She knows damn well what she is doing. I’m not a morning person by any means, but waking me up in the middle of the night is just cruel and unusual punishment.

“Why, exactly, are you calling me at such an ungodly hour?” I fight the urge to pull the pillow back over my head and force myself to focus.

She responds in her usual upbeat manner, laughing. “I’m just finishing up my shift and I feel like we haven’t talked in ages. I don’t know, I just miss you I guess.”

Her flippant tone belies a slight edge that she is trying to conceal. But she can’t hide from me. After close to seven years of friendship, Sierra is more like a sister to me than anything at this point. Sitting up with a sigh, I run a hand through my tangled curls, which always manage to look more like a rat’s nest after laying down for any decent amount of time.

“What happened, babe?” A breathy shudder passes over the phone, and my heart sinks. Oh no. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A sob-hiccup escapes before her shaky voice continues, “I’m sorry to wake you up so late. I’ve just- it’s been really hard. Like, really fucking hard, and I’m just coming off my seventy-two-hour rotation and we lost a kid tonight, a little girl. . . I just-” Sierra’s voice breaks off and I can tell she is struggling to hold back the tears as she tries to finish. “- I just needed to hear your voice.”

Fully alert now at the distress of my surrogate sister, I wish I could reach through the phone and squeeze her until her arms go numb from my tight hold. Sadly, she is now in a completely different time zone, three hours ahead of me on the East Coast, so the best I can do is try to offer words of comfort.

“It’s going to be okay, babe. I’m so sorry. Losing a patient always hits hard, especially when it’s a kid. . . I honestly don’t know how you do it some days. But I am so fucking proud of you. For now, you are going to let those tears out; let them wash away the grief of this shift. Then you need to go home and sleep for like, at least twelve hours. Not the on-call room, your actual home. After you have finished your long-ass nap, you need to light one of those scented candles that I sent you in the last care package. Throw in some Mr. Bubbles and zone out with some good smut and a tall glass of wine. There’s nothing like some big dick energy from one of your hot-as-fuck book boyfriends to help you relax.”

The heavy sigh coming over the line is the only indication of my friend’s weariness, and it is very telling. Sierra and I met when I was a freshman in college. She was two years ahead of me, powering through her premed courses and we happened to have several science classes together. We bonded over our mutual hatred of all-things chemistry over months spent in study groups together. Following the rough transitory year, we moved in together in an off-campus apartment that was critically placed next to the sweet little coffee shop that was always open late, while still being within a short walking distance of the library. Caffeine and books were a lifeline we both clung to.

Even though it was her senior year while I was just a sophomore, Sierra made it in to the University’s med school program after graduation, allowing me another four glorious years of bonding with my new lifeline. Late night study sessions and weekend karaoke to blow off steam at a local bar became a huge part of my life as she brought me into the fold of her friend group. Sierra was a strange dichotomy of studious med student, dead-set on becoming a renowned pediatric oncologist, mixed with a hint of carefree party-girl vibes. People gravitated to her upbeat energy like moths to a flame and I found myself just as entranced as the rest of them.

Now, she is off kicking ass as a first-year intern at a top-rated hospital in my old home state of Maryland, and I couldn’t be more fucking proud of her. The only downside, is that with her now being on the opposite side of the country, our schedules often clash when we are wanting to catch up. She has invited me out to stay with her several times, but I just can’t bring myself to go back there. I don’t know if I ever will be able to after what happened. . .

“Seriously, Sierra.” My tone is somber as I continue, “You might be carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders but you need to rest. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. I know you don’t have control over your crazy-ass schedule, since you are basically grunt labor as the newbie but when you are off, you need to take time to care for yourself or you are going to burn out before you can even reach your goals. Have you talked to Connor about what happened?”

Connor was Sierra’s long-term boyfriend. They met in med school, and are both doing residency programs on the East Coast. I’m not a huge fan of the guy, but if he makes her happy, that’s all that matters, I guess. Anyway, they get each other in a way I don’t. Going through med school and residency is a bonding experience that only someone who has gone through it could really understand.

“No, I left him a message but he doesn’t finish his shift until later today.”

Right. Because the guy refuses to check his phone when he is on his shift. ‘Too unprofessional’ he says. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the thought.

A shaky shudder breaks through the silence on the other end of the line as she continues. “And I know. I know. You’re right. I do need to do a better job of prioritizing my own mental health.”

Laughter escapes me at her begrudging admission. “Of course, I’m right. You want to know why?”

“Oh please, do elaborate.”

“I know that I’m right because it is the same damn advice you have been giving me for years. But taking your own advice is a tough pill to swallow, even for you. . . Doctor Sierra Crawford.” I make sure to emphasize her title, a not-so-subtle reminder for my dear friend of what a bad-ass bitch she is. And like music to my ears, her laughter fills the line.

“I guess you’re right. Thanks babe. Love you.”

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head as I respond. “Love you too. Now go finish your mountain of paperwork and go the fuck home to sleep.” Hanging up, I toss the phone back on the nightstand before rolling over with a huff, flipping my pillow to the cool side before fluffing it vigorously and snuggling in once more.

I awake several hours later to a loud bang, and jolt upright, heart pounding. Switching on the nightstand lamp as my back rests against the headboard, I try to still the racing of my pulse and my erratic breathing. Hands shaking, I fumble momentarily before grabbing my phone. Pulling up the app that Finn installed several years ago, I check the security feed, going through each room.

The apartment is dark and silent, no signs of an intruder. Everything appears to be undisturbed, and the alarm was never tripped. It must have been one of the guys next door. And if something was wrong, they would let me know. I’m sure everything’s fine. Blowing out a shaky breath, I turn off the lamp and once more lay down, adjusting my pillows as I try to get comfortable, knowing full-well that it’s futile, and sleep will be a long time coming.