Yours Truly, Cammie Read online

  I was about to turn around and explain myself (okay, make up an excuse), but the door opened again after me so quickly that I had to jump back. I was met with two very amused, almond-shaped eyes.

  “So, you’re not taking patient three?” Jackie whispered, grinning.

  “Nope. I’ll take this one.” I peeked around Jackie’s body and gave the patient a quick smile before coming back in front of her. “I changed my mind.”

  “Yeah, I think the entire hospital heard you change your mind. What was that about?” Jackie’s whispers weren’t even close to whispers. I knew for a fact that the patient could hear her. Jackie was one of those “loud” people. You know, the ones who just couldn’t seem to control their volume, no matter what, when they talked.

  I whispered a real whisper back, “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Oh no, feel free to tell her now. I’m interested, too.” The deep voice arose from behind us, and I had to hold back an eye-roll. Obviously, I can’t seem to whisper right, either.

  “Is there something I should know about that patient?” Jackie asked, while giggling flirtatiously in the direction of the deep-voiced patient.

  “No. It’s just…” I felt my neck start to get a teeny bit warm. How can I explain this without being totally mortified?

  I can’t. That’s how.

  “Fine,” I huffed, no longer making an effort to whisper. I crossed my arms over the front of my navy scrubs and squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe if I can’t see them, they can’t see me?

  “I went out on a blind date with patient number three, and…” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe I was saying this in front of another patient. This has got to be breaking, like, five thousand rules.

  “Go on,” the patient said, in an overly arrogant voice. I peeled my eyes out from under my clenched eyelids and almost glared at him, but I couldn’t do that for more than one reason. I’ve already started the night out completely unprofessionally, so I didn’t want to dig myself an even bigger hole, and, my thoughts of annoyance vanished when I really took a look at him…he was stunningly handsome. Almost too handsome to be real.

  “Seriously, come on. Don’t leave us hanging,” Jackie probed.

  I cleared my throat. “And, he was so obnoxious at dinner while eating steak like a grizzly bear, that I told him I was going to the restroom, and I got up and left…him…there.”

  An undeniably tense silence emerged from the other two people in the room. Great. Now they both thought I was the biggest bitch in the entire world, and maybe I was. But I had kind of been scared for my life. I’d half-expected Dustin to eat me after he was finished with his hearty steak.

  I literally jumped from the cackling laughter that burst from Jackie, and then the handsome specimen joined in with a low chuckle. Jackie’s face turned a shade darker than her red lipstick and she was holding her stomach, barely able to breathe. I scowled and continued to cross my arms until they were both done laughing. I knew my face must be a deep shade of red from embarrassment. But seriously. How did it happen that, number 1, Dustin was here, in the ER; number 2, I wasn’t even supposed to be working the ER; and, number 3, somehow, he was my patient…?

  My life was full of clever little jokes, I tell ya. They’ve gotten increasingly worse this past year, too. I would almost bet my life that Alexander was somehow having a play in all this shit.

  “Okay, okay, okay!” Jackie said, gathering herself to stop laughing. The second she met my face, she snickered again.

  “Seriously, it’s not that funny. Now, you go deal with him because I just…can’t.”

  “I think you should punish her and make her go deal with him. Serves you right, after bailing.” My eyes narrowed into little slits at the patient. He thought he got a say in this?

  “Go.” I ushered Jackie towards the door once more before she gave up another small laugh.

  “I can’t wait to hear more about this date, Cammie.”

  I didn’t even acknowledge her, other than switching our patient files. I’m sure she’ll understand completely once she’s done stitching him up. He’ll probably offer to do it himself while she watches; you know, cavemen know how to stitch themselves up…right?

  I opened the file as soon as Jackie left the room and started to scan its contents.

  “So, do you ditch men often on dates, or…?”

  I glanced up from the file, after reading his name: Lucas J. Wells. I walked the few feet over to his bed and placed the file on the counter before reaching for the hand sanitizer. Still reading the file, and not giving him much more of a glance, it said he was 6’2 and one hundred and ninety pounds. My left eyebrow quipped upward at his vitals that had already been done. They were near perfect. Heart rate nice and steady.

  I finally got the nerve to look over at him, and I noticeably swallowed when I saw that he was staring directly at me. I couldn’t even help my eyes as they scanned his entirety. He was what you’d call a nice, tall glass of water. Actually, I almost felt as if I needed some water to moisten my now drying mouth. Jesus…take me now. I knew his body was near perfect with his 6’2 height and perfectly proportioned weight, but what I wasn’t expecting was for everything else to be immaculate, too. Dirty blond hair, parted off to the side and tousled right on top. His eyes were a pale green, almost taking my breath away with their sharp contrast to his long, dark eyelashes. His straight, narrow nose led down to his slim but plump lips, which laid unmoving on his wide, Russian-like face. He had a narrow, slanted white scar in between his eyebrows, but somehow even that tiny imperfection was perfect.

  “So?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Caught in the act, my eyes widened fast. I quickly averted my eyes back down to his file.

  I honestly needed a second to catch my breath, because he had literally stolen it from me. Little thief! I’ve been told that I was picky when it came to men, and maybe I was. I just knew what I wanted, and what I liked. And this man, his looks were definitely something I liked.

  Or thought I liked, until… my stomach dropped to the floor like a fucking bowling ball. Occupation: United States Marine Corps.

  Goddamnit!

  Three

  Dun. Dun. Dun. It always happened like this. I was meant to be alone forever. I was going to die alone. I really was. I would not, under any circumstance, date a Marine. Or any service member; it wasn’t just limited to the Marines. I wouldn’t do it, and the fact that I was just going all gaga over this guy because of his looks made me so mad. I should have known that there would be a catch. There always was.

  I let out an exasperated breath and grabbed what I needed to check his pupils to see if he truly did have a concussion. My mind wandered to how he had actually received this supposed concussion. Over the years, I’ve watched Marines bounce in and out of the ER due to a variety of drunken incidents, my brother and his friends being most of those patients…many, many times. I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue because I could be having to deal with Big Foot down in room number three. Technically, this guy was a life-saver.

  “Here, let me check out your eyes. You said you think you have a concussion?” I asked, without looking him directly in the face.

  His voice came out smooth, like a lullaby. “No. I’m positive I don’t have a concussion, but if I didn’t come here and get checked, I’d get chewed out by my commanding officer, and I don’t really have the patience to deal with that.”

  “And, how did this happen? Were you drunk?” I just couldn’t help but add that last part in. I just couldn’t help it. Was it superfluous of me? Yes. Did I care? Nope.

  He grunted and it caused me to look back at his face. He looked angry, and his voice was sharp, unlike before when he was kidding around with Jackie about my ridiculous life.

  “No.”

  I waited a few more beats before raising my eyebrows, indicating that I still wanted to know how he got this “non-concussion.”

  He grumbled, “I was moving things into my new house and my friend hit the ladder I was s
tanding on, and I fell down, hitting my head. I’m fine.”

  I snickered. “Let me check.”

  “Is this funny to you?”

  “Nope. Let me take a look.” I couldn’t deny the scowl on his face. I have clearly made him mad. He really shouldn’t be surprised that I asked if he’d been drinking, though. He’s a Marine, for goodness’ sake; they’re rowdy by nature!

  I grabbed my small flashlight and beamed it directly into his eyes, trying to check for his pupil dilation. Instead of actually paying attention to what any sane RN would be looking for, though, I took in the hue of his pale green eyes. I had never seen such a color in my life. The green was so light that his eyes almost looked transparent, but they weren’t. They were just so light, and in contrast to his dark eyelashes, they stood out even more.

  He cleared his throat and I almost dropped the flashlight. Almost. But I didn’t, steady hands and all.

  I finally brought down the beam of bright light and pressed my warm hands around his head, checking for any unusual bumps or bruises. The feel of his silky hair between my fingers only pissed me off more. If only, if only he wasn’t a Marine.

  “You’re good to go. Your pupil dilation is normal. Would you like the doctor to write you a note that you got checked?”

  “You never answered my question,” he bantered, swinging his bare lower legs over the side of the bed.

  Scribbling down some things in his chart (physically trying not to write something inappropriate), I asked what he was talking about.

  “Do you normally bail out in the middle of dates?” He couldn’t hide the judgement on his face even if he tried. His sleek, light brown eyebrows were raised, and my hand twitched to smack him.

  “No,” I said, putting my attention back on his file. My mouth spoke before my brain could fathom what the hell I was doing. “It’s not really any of your business either, Soldier.”

  If there’s one thing I knew about a Marine, it’s that they despise being called anything other than a Marine. There’s a huge difference in the branches of the military, whether people want to recognize that or not. I would know, I’ve been surrounded by it my entire life.

  I wanted to laugh at my little snarky jab, but I didn’t. I knew he was probably steaming, and I would more than likely get written up if he called and complained to Human Resources. But for some reason, this guy brought out the worst in me. His very presence made me want to annoy him to no end. Maybe it was the whole he’s-the-most-beautiful-man-on-earth-but-I-can’t-have-him thing.

  “You’re a military brat, then. I see.”

  I whipped my head up to him and glared, my dark blonde hair falling out around my face.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you know that I would fucking hate being called a soldier. Only a true military brat would know that.”

  “How do you know I’m not dating a Marine?”

  His expression changed quickly. “Because you ran in here to get away from a blind date. Obviously, you’re not seeing anyone.”

  Oh. He got me there.

  “Am I good to go?” he asked, annoyed.

  I leaned back against the cool cabinets and handed him the white discharge paper, not really caring whether he wanted a doctor’s note or not. He snatched it out of my hand at the same time I looked up to see his face. He leaned in closer to me, his breath hitting my forehead. “Has anyone ever told you that your bedside manners…suck?” He tilted his head to the side, in a barely noticeable way…but I definitely noticed.

  I pushed myself off the cabinet and flew past him, only looking back once to answer him.

  “Nope.” Then I gave him a sly grin and walked right out the door.

  Twenty red, white, and blue balloons shoved into my tiny (but powerful) Mustang was a terrible idea. If a sheriff drove past me and saw my small head surrounded by an abundance of bouncing balloons, I would surely be pulled over. But thankfully, I was home and in the clear.

  “Jesus, Cammie.” JoJo ran over to my parked car as I squeezed out from the behind the wheel, grabbing a handful of balloons with me.

  “What? You said I was in charge of the decorations.” That was the plan. JoJo would take care of the food and booze, and the whole getting everyone over to the house thing, and I was in charge of decorations. She’d wanted to do it all since she knew this was a big deal for me, but I didn’t mind. Sure, I’ve been carrying around a heart full of envy and despair, but I could push that aside for the night. Plus, I didn’t really have anyone else to throw a “Welcome Home” party for any longer, so I might as well pretend like this is the party that I was planning to throw a year ago.

  “I know, but it looks like you’ve been swallowed up by a freaking clown car or something.” I laughed, skipping over to unlock my front door.

  “Whose car is that?” JoJo asked, while I fiddled with the balloons in one hand and my keys in the other. The early fall breeze wasn’t helping matters. The balloons were bouncing all over the place.

  “Where?” I strained my neck in the direction she was pointing. I blew the stray hairs out of my face, and my eyebrows involuntarily shot upward.

  That was one nice fucking car. Mine was nice, but it wasn’t exactly what I would have picked if I had bought my own car. I used to sport a tiny little Camry until the shiny red Mustang was…left for me. But the car that I was looking at, parked right in front of my new neighbor’s house, had me drooling a little bit.

  Its sleek, black lines made me want to rub my hands along its entirety. The Camaro had to be at least thirty years old, sporting those round circles for headlights. The paint job looked perfect, along with the crisp, sheer glare of the chrome wheels. I tried to imagine who my new neighbor was. Was it an old man with a love for muscle cars and historical towns? I knew it had to be someone wealthy, as all the prices of homes in this part of town were astronomical. The only reason I could afford to live in my small, light yellow historical home was because my landlord was a close family friend who barely charged me a thing for rent.

  “No!” My eyes almost fell out of my head.

  “What?”

  No. No. No. No. My first thought was, Thank God it’s not Chewbacca from the other night, because how insane would it be to have a THIRD run-in with him? My second thought was, Why is the world laughing at me? Sure enough, the guy walking out of his front door and wearing running shorts, a dark grey t-shirt, and black Nikes was Soldier Boy, aka the hot Marine from the ER!

  I hurried up and shoved the balloons and a confused JoJo through my front door and slammed it shut, letting the balloons bounce around in my entryway.

  JoJo yelled, “What the hell? What was that?!”

  I made up a quick excuse. “Sorry, I didn’t want the balloons to fly away.”

  JoJo gave me a puzzled look but decided against probing me. “Well, let’s go get the rest of the stuff so we can start setting up.” She checked her phone and threw it on the skinny wooden table pushed up against the wall. “I told everyone to start showing up around seven, so we’ve only got a few hours.”

  I calmed my breathing down and sent up my silent screams to God. “Fine. You go first. I’m gonna pee.”

  She didn’t answer; she only pranced out the front door, making sure the balloons stayed put. The second she was out of my house, I let out a huge huff of air. I tried to think rationally at first. Maybe it was his friend’s house…which was pretty doubtful unless they were rich. Maybe it was his parents’ house and he was just visiting…highly unlikely. Maybeeee, it was a fluke. Maybe my eyes played a trick on me. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that.

  For months after I got the news, I thought I saw Alexander everywhere. I would see his dark blond, cropped hair peeking through an aisle at the grocery store, or I’d see him jogging down the street, which would then lead to me following him, only to find out that I’d just semi-stalked some dude exercising. My eyes loved to play tricks on me. All. The. Time.

  I quickly realized th
at I should have been done peeing by now, and JoJo should be back dropping decorations off in my doorway, which she wasn’t, so I panicked.

  I ran over to the door and peered outside. Shit! There was JoJo with her straight, ember-colored hair, chatting it up with Lucas. I moved away quickly and pressed my back to the cool wall as if he was going to see me standing there, creeping. If he wasn’t so damn attractive, I wouldn’t care. He was kind of a dick at the hospital, anyway. So why am I freaking out?

  I slithered my way along the wall, its smoothness rubbing my back through my t-shirt, and then I rounded the corner, slowly sliding to the floor. No biggie. I would just hide out here…forever.

  Whenever I’ve acted bitchy towards someone (read as: beautifully sarcastic and witty), it’s only ever because I either 1. Knew the person really well so they knew I was kidding, or 2. Knew that I would never see them again. I mean, seeing Lucas again wasn’t exactly that absurd, considering I only lived twenty minutes from the Marine Corps base, but most Marines either lived on base, or in the town that the base resided in. Obviously, there were the few that liked to live on the wild side and stay even further away, but not many. It would be a drag to drive that far to work every day; I would know. My brother used to complain about it every time he needed a break from the barracks and would come crash on my couch.

  “Are you pooping? You’re taking forever!” JoJo exclaimed while walking through the door.

  I let out a small laugh and shook my head as I stood up and rounded the corner. She was standing there with about five bags on each arm, black hair sticking to her face.

  “No, sorry.”

  I grabbed the bags off her arm and laid them on the tiny kitchen island.

  I’ve been renting my house since I graduated college a couple years ago. I thought long and hard about where I wanted to live after I graduated, and I always came back to this little town. It had its benefits. Not too close to base, so I wouldn’t have to be surrounded by the foul, embarrassing memories my dad left us with; but just close enough that I could still feel at home and be near Alex.