Screwed Up: Bayside Heroes Read online

  “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.

  Greg hangs his head with a lengthy exhale. “I didn’t mean to attack you. Overnights at a building in that part of town probably don’t get much action.”

  I fling an arm out to the side. “Thank you. That’s the sympathy I was looking for.”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose at my theatrics. “You want excitement?”

  “That’s literally what we’ve been talking about since you needed to stop for a rest.”

  A curse is muffled against his palm, but he doesn’t comment on my jab. “If I stick my neck out for you, then you need to stick this out long enough to make the effort worth my while.”

  “The fuck?”

  His cheeks puff with a forced breath. Hesitation clouds the air. “There’s a position open at the hospital. Not sure about the details. It might be entry-level.”

  Warmth spreads through my chest. It almost feels like a spark of hope. “I’d be all right with that. Either way, it probably pays double what I’m currently making.”

  He laughs. “I’ve never heard anyone complain about their salary.”

  I could almost hug the guy—sweaty balls and all. “Will you put in a good word for me?”

  His nod is easy. “But it might take more than that. Those positions are contracted through a third-party agency.”

  A buzz thrums in my sated muscles. I feel rejuvenated, which has nothing to do with the miles we just ran. “Can you find out which company? I might have a connection with them already.”

  Greg claps me on the back. “Of course, man. What are friends for?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  LARSEN

  A gentle palm lands on my shoulder. “Lars?”

  Beck’s voice breaks me from the soundless vacuum I’d allowed my mind to wander in for a brief—and rare—reprieve. The crash back to reality strikes me with a jolt. Idle chatter from our fellow patrons rushes to my ears, booming like a rave rather than a lowkey crowd at the bar.

  I twist slightly to face him. A sign hanging overhead casts a glow over his drawn features. Tonight, just like countless nights since I joined the team at Bayside Regional, we’re meeting after work for drinks. Others will be joining shortly. Shipwrecked is a place I’ve found solace in. No one understands how murky the trenches are except for those trudging along beside me. That’s precisely why we’re here—just to decompress over a stiff drink.

  The silence has stretched long enough to raise suspicion. A furrowed groove dents Beck’s brow. “You good?”

  “Yeah, sure.” My nod is too jerky. The smile curling my lips is forced. I can feel the sharp edges readying to reveal my farce. There’s too much resting on my chest. Even the cushioned stool beneath my butt becomes uncomfortable.

  He chuckles. “You’re spacing out.”

  I hang my head, totally busted. “Shit, sorry. I’m being bad company.”

  His smirk comes easy. “Hey, no judgment from me. I get it.”

  “You do.” This time, my agreement comes across as a genuine grin.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  Beck takes a sip from his glass. “We can swap roles for a few minutes. It’s obvious there’s something weighing on you.”

  “Aside from the usual,” I admit on a sigh. “There’s so much pressure. It’s getting to me more than usual.”

  “Interesting.” He rubs at the short stubble dusting his jaw. “Tell me more about that.”

  I swat his arm. “That’s going too far. I’m trying to release my demons and you’re cracking jokes.”

  He sobers, all traces of the talk doc farce vanishing from his mannerisms. The stool wobbles and creaks as he straightens. “Okay, no funny business. Real talk and brutal honesty only.”

  A knot tugs from somewhere in my chest. I’m being the snooty brat my mother dubbed me as. “Well, you don’t have to be—”

  “Nope, you asked for it,” he interjects. “This job is tough. You’re going to fail. You won’t save everyone. You’ll want to quit. You might curse every decision that got you to this point. But you’ll never find a more rewarding position.”

  The pinch of concern eases and I smile. “That was surprisingly insightful.”

  “Ah, see? Not just a pretty face.” He makes a circular motion around his features. That jovial burst just proves how complicated and complex Beck is beneath the surface. He has walls guarding him that make my defenses look like chicken wire. But he’s become a good friend, one I can rely on.

  “Honestly, I feel like a mess. What am I doing wrong?” The answer waits on the tip of my tongue. I take every interaction with my patients too personally. There isn’t enough compartmentalizing going on. I need to detach and move forward.

  Beck provides his own version after downing another swig of whiskey. “Nothing. That’s normal. Just don’t let the pressure get the best of you.”

  My scoff is automatic. As if it’s that simple. “How can I not? We’re trained to be the best. We wouldn’t be in this position if we hadn’t worked to the bone to get here. It’s constant and relentless.”

  “And that’s how you burn out. It doesn’t need to be relentless, just relent… some. You need to find that balancing point. Take it from someone who’s felt the signs.” He taps his temple.

  I slurp at the meager remains of my cocktail. “You?”

  Beck signals to the bartender for another round. “I’ve told you a bit about my past, but we’ll circle back to me. Tell me what else is bothering you. This could be cathartic for both of us.”

  I point downward. “At this exact moment?”

  His chuckle relaxes the strain hiking my shoulders. “Is the list that long?”

  My lips twist of their own accord. “It’s a bottomless pit that would traumatize most people.”

  “Lucky for you, I don’t scare easily.” And his take-charge reputation confirms that.

  A thick exhale whistles from between my lips. I don’t like to expose any weakness, even to those I consider friends. And more than that, this complaint is petty compared to everything else we face. But I can grant myself a moment to vent.

  “I want to be taken seriously as a professional.”

  His blink is slow, as if my statement requires additional time to process. “That seems… already accomplished.”

  I silently mouth my thanks to Jimmy when he drops off our drinks. “Maybe for you. I feel like it’s an uphill battle with no end in sight.”

  Beck takes a hearty gulp from his fresh scotch. He swipes at the stray droplets on his upper lip. “You’re respected at Bayside. Hell, I just overheard the Chief singing y
our praises.”

  My heart skips a beat. “Really?”

  “Are you actually surprised?” He reciprocates my disbelief by allowing shock to bleed into his tone. “Lars, you’re fantastic at what you do. Please tell me you’re not questioning that.”

  “It’s not that I’m incapable or lacking the skills.” I smooth a palm over my hair that’s secured in a tight and tidy bun. A familiar churning swirls in my belly. “Last week, the day of the I-4 accident, a patient called me a…” I sigh and let my words trail off.

  “Called you a…?” he prompts.

  “Disney princess,” I mumble, so low I almost hope he didn’t hear.

  “He called you a Disney princess?” he sputters, practically loud enough for the entire bar to hear. I shush him with a finger. “That’s a… compliment?” He sounds unsure, as he should.

  “Yeah, I guess. But I want people to see past my appearance and age. Do you know how many patients snicker when I introduce myself as a doctor?” I scowl at the reminder.

  Beck tilts sideways with a lazy shrug. “We’re young. That happens to all of us. One day, you’ll be wishing for them to mistake you as a first-year med student.”

  “Sure, but that’s what you have to say. We’ll be begging for youth all too soon.” I roll my eyes to the shadowed ceiling.

  “Hey.” His retort is dipped in amusement. “No one’s forcing me to spout off corny wisdom. You can at least pretend I’m being helpful.”

  I sputter while trying to trap a laugh. “This is exactly what I need, trust me. I’m just in a weird mood. Sorry for being a buzzkill.”

  “Don’t apologize. We’re having a blast. Keep spilling your guts.” He motions me onward with a roll of his wrist.

  I bend forward for a slight bow. “Ah, my insecurities are entertaining you?”

  Beck grunts. “Let’s just say that I had no idea the perfectly poised Larsen Belle ever felt less than adequate.”

  My smile loses some luster around the edges. “My parents didn’t believe in me. Did you know that?”

  He shakes his head with a humorless chuckle. “Isn’t that some bullshit? You sure showed them. I bet they’re damn proud of you now.”

  “Doubtful,” I mutter.

  That pucker makes a reappearance between his brows. “How could they not be?”

  This topic is way too heavy after the night we’ve had. I guzzle several swallows of my vodka soda. “That’s enough from me.”

  His finger wags inches from my nose. “Not quite. I’m still compiling evidence for my assessment. This isn’t meant to be taken lightly, after all.”

  I smack my lips. “Spoken like a seasoned clinician. I wasn’t aware you were taking notes.”

  “Oh, yes. Very diligent.” He knocks on the wooden bar at a steady rhythm.

  Classic rock blares from the speakers, the type of songs that almost anyone can recognize. I tap my foot to the familiar beat. “You’re not just blindly agreeing with whatever nonsense spills from my mouth.”

  He drops his gaze to the floor. “That wouldn’t be beneficial for either of us.”

  There’s a note in his tone that prods my curiosity. I find myself nodding, regardless of his averted eyes. “Go on then.”

  “What are your hobbies?”

  I falter at the curve he just lobbed. It’s little more than a basic icebreaker, so why can’t I think of anything? “Uh, reading?”

  Beck dips his chin to mask a snort. “Is that your final answer?”

  “Are we playing a game show?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Oh, and medical journals don’t count.” His deadpan tone makes the accusation humorous.

  I still wince at being called out. “Fine. How about drinking at Shipwrecked with my friends after a brutal shift at the hospital?”

  “Pathetic.” But he laughs, telling me there’s no weight behind the barb.

  “Oh, believe me, I know.”

  “Okay, the results are in.” He drums on his thighs for dramatic effect. “There’s too much spinning in your mind all at once. You need to loosen up. Have fun—the real kind. Make time for stuff that brings you joy. It’s important that you remember what those things are too. Kick back and relax. Stop taking everything so hard. You’re kickass, Larsen Belle. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  An eerie shiver skates over my arms, pebbling the exposed flesh regardless of the balmy temperature. That summary is pretty accurate. I give Beck Munroe a slow once-over. He’s quite the conundrum. One day, some lucky lady is going to snatch him up. If he lets her get close enough to try, of course.

  “This isn’t the impartial advice I was expecting. Once again, you’re being more perceptive than I gave you credit for.”

  “You’re welcome, but this is coming from a guy who should be worrying about his own mental health.” Then he buttons his lips. “Sorry, that just slipped out.”

  I squint at him. “Okay, I’ve blabbed your ear off enough. It’s your turn to spill.”

  Weary lines crease the skin around his eyes. “We’re going to need another drink.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  DANE

  Day three on the new job is proving to be another eventful experience and I’ve only been on the clock for two hours. There’s rarely a dull moment at Bayside Regional. To say this is the adventure I’d been needing in my life would be an offensive understatement. I’m on constant alert with my pulse thrumming and muscles bunched while waiting for the next disturbance.

  I suppose I got what I signed up for—finally, some excitement.

  Right at this moment, though, things are calm. Other than a few muffled screams, all is quiet and under control. The comm strapped to my shoulder is silent. I’ve already learned that thundering footsteps means ‘get my ass moving to wherever the noise is’. A distant throb in my thighs reminds me of the full-tilt sprint I completed just a few minutes ago after the red lights started flashing. The alarm systems are top-notch as well. They have a smooth operation running at this joint. It’s damn impressive to witness, not to mention play a role in. I’m fortunate to have the opportunity to prove my worth.

  United Security holds contracts with several hospitals in this area. They took me on easily enough. After passing initial background checks—stellar, of course—I registered for the available positions. The gig at Bayside Regional was my top choice. The salary and bonus structure had me salivating. Being fresh on the roster, I figured there was a better chance of me winning the lottery. I was prepared to wait my turn to sign on the dotted line. As it turns out, not many had applied to fill the opening. The reason behind that lack of interest became apparent during my first shift.

  I’m stationed at the entrance for the psychiatric unit, which covers the entire third floor. My permanent post isn’t common practice. In most cases, security is based on the main level. Inpatient intake is on a significant rise, so additional staff is required to maintain a safe environment. It’s become obvious that the majority would rather steer clear of this section, but I couldn’t be happier.

  I do appreciate the slight reprieve, though. This brief pause allows me to get my breathing under control. Potent disinfectant burns my nostrils as I drag in a slow breath. That sterile scent will take some getting used to. I resume a measured patrol near the open doors just to keep moving. Standing in one spot grates on my nerves. But if I pace too quickly, I’ll raise suspicion.

  The soles of my boots squeak across the sparkling tiles when I pivot at the wall. Just as I’m about to cut another path across the hallway, a blonde vision strolls toward me. Her curvy hips sway to a seductive tempo that is nothing short of hypnotic. I find myself getting lulled under a mesmerizing spell with each forward step. I would gladly watch her walk toward me on a constant loop. That’s precisely why I feel compelled to turn on the charm.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” The greeting is little more than a gritty rasp. It’s a shock that I found my voice to begin with.

  She stumbles to a stop. After glanc
ing behind her, she quirks a brow at me. “Really?”

  That clanging disbelief draws a chuckle from me. “Am I not allowed to appreciate a beautiful woman?”

  A scoff wrinkles her upturned nose. “This is a hospital, not some sleazy club. Try to be professional.”

  I let my mouth slant into a smirk. Properly chastised, but not deterred. She probably believes her attitude will discourage me from further attempts, but she couldn’t be more mistaken. I appreciate a bold personality more than most.

  To solidify the message, I tack on a wink. “I’m Dane.”

  Brown eyes the shade of rich coffee glare at my outstretched palm as though bugs are crawling across my skin. After a delayed beat, she accepts my offering. “Doctor Larsen Belle.”

  I study her impassive expression with one of my own. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  Another huff directed at me. “Spare me the joke, I’ve heard it a million times.”

  She’s prickly. Or perhaps wary. Definitely guarded.

  Her shoulders are too stiff. A severe bun holds her blonde hair hostage. The black dress she’s wearing doesn’t have a single wrinkle. She’s polished to a point that makes her look like a mirage.

  That’s precisely why I get the urge to needle her a bit.

  I release a low whistle. “That wasn’t meant as an insult. I just need to know what to call such an appetizing sight.”

  She blinks at me. If I thought she’d give me a big reaction, I’d be tagged as an idiot right about now. Her stony mask remains firmly in place. “Excuse you?”

  Her voice is flat, bored, yet she’s not leaving.

  I allow a real smile to show, dimples and all. “I’ve been known to come across too strong. Does it offend you, Belle?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Yes.”

  “Liar,” I taunt.

  Her posture goes rigid. “You’re very rude.”

  “I didn’t get hired for my personality.” I flex my biceps for good measure.