The ER in that little hospital was crazy that night. A chainsaw accident. A stab wound. Two wrecks and more cardiac arrests than I wanted to count. Influxes like that were the norm in Fort Lauderdale where I’d done my preceptorship—big city, lots of patients. Rockford’s population barely tipped over four hundred, so it was unexpected, to say the least. Rockford, Alabama. I’m back in Rockford… I never expected to come back home. At least not to live, but sometimes, well, life throws you curveballs. I’ll admit, there was a certain comfort in being home. I just wished I’d come home under different circumstances—any other circumstances.

I finished up Ms. Thompson’s discharge sheet and stepped into the hall just as a gurney with a man covered in blood and gasping for breath whizzed toward the OR. Although I didn’t know him, my stomach knotted because that man was someone’s world, and I doubted he’d make it. Losing your world couldn’t be easy.

At the time, I’d only been a nurse for a little over a month, but I thought the emotions of it all would wane over time. They hadn’t. Not in the slightest.

“Hannah.” Meg grabbed my elbow and yanked me around the corner. She swatted her platinum blonde hair away from her eyes but didn’t say anything. Just attempted to drag me down the hall.

“What are you doing?” I asked. The doors from the ambulance bay swung open. Medics pushed another gurney through the doorway, and she tugged on my arm again, but it was too late. I had already seen Max’s bloodied face. Max Summers, my ex, the boy that taught me how pretty lies could be, was laid out on the stretcher. His eyes swollen, and he clutched at his side, groaning with each breath. He didn’t notice me, and that was probably best.

“Shit,” Meg huffed, dragging me to the side of the corridor. “I was trying to keep you away from that shitshow.”

Shrugging, I pretended to pull at an imaginary string on my scrubs. “It’s fine.”

“You never get over your first love, no matter how much of a dick he was.”

“I didn’t love him.” How could you love a guy that texted you saying you were his world while he literally had his dick in another girl?

One of Meg’s perfectly sculpted brows arched. Her lips kicked up on one side. “Mmhmm.”

“What did he do this time? Get in a fight?” I asked, already fully aware that was the only logical answer.

“Of course, but this time, he got his ass kicked.” There was an upbeat vibrato to her voice, like she wanted to pat the back of whoever tore into Max. “I’m sure he deserved it.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

We walked down the hall, past Miss Smith sitting in a wheelchair by the nurses’ station. Miss Smith grinned. “Good to see you home, Hannah.”

“It’s good to be home.” I lied. It wasn’t good.

“See, it’s not so bad being back home, right?” Meg nudged me. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve spent half the night catching up with people that have come in.”

“I’ve known every patient I’ve treated, that has to be a HIPPA violation or something.”

“Nah, now, going out and blabbing that Britney Swinson shuffled in with a case of the clap for the third time this year— that’s a HIPPA violation.”

I swiped a hand down my face. “Meg…”

“I’m joking.” She laughed. “Maybe…” She flashed that Miss America smile that has gotten her out of more tickets than I can count. And let me just say, that smile was deceiving. Meg McKinney was anything but a pageant queen. Momma always called her rough around the edges. She was the girl in high school that hiked her skirt up and bent at the waist when she dropped her pencil so the boys could get a nice view of her Victoria Secret panties. She considered boys a pastime while I considered them a nuisance, which is why people never understood why she and the preacher’s daughter were friends. But there’s a lot more to people than the things they disagree on…

One of the residents walked by with his shoulders back and head held high in that “I got a chip on my shoulder” way. Meg jerked her chin in his direction. “Look at his ass, Hannah.”

I took a fleeting glance before grabbing my badge and walking to one of the time clocks by the restrooms. “Not that impressive.”

“Are you kidding me? How many doctors have you seen with a butt like that?”

“I don’t really keep track.”

“That’s a shame.” She was still busy watching the man walk down the hall.

“Alright, well, my shift ended ten minutes ago, so. . .” I swiped my ID card through the slot, watching the little green light blink.

“You at work tomorrow?” Meg asked.

“Yep. Three twelves this week.”

“See you tomorrow then.” She waved before grabbing a chart and disappearing into one of the rooms.

I stopped outside the doors to the waiting room, squirting hand sanitizer into my hand while the automatic doors slowly open. Mr. Brenner, my old high school teacher, waved from one of the plastic waiting room chairs. I waved back before I slipped outside into the muggy night air. Alabama heat has a habit of wrapping around you like a wool blanket. Uncomfortable and unbearably stuffy.

Very little had changed in that little town since I’d left two years ago. Unfortunately, it seemed the only thing that had changed was the reason I was home.

The light to the front porch was on when I pulled down the gravel drive and parked next to Daddy’s F-150. After I cut the engine, I sat in the dark with my heart hammering against my ribs.

All day, I had been with sick people. I watched three people die, but all that meant was that I was used to death—not immune to it. It’s hard to watch someone suffer, but watching your mother suffer…

You can’t avoid this, Hannah. Taking a breath, I pushed open the car door to the distinct hum of cicadas. Sampson, my brother’s hound dog, came bolting off the porch, his ears waving behind him like a tattered flag, barking.

“It’s just me, shhh!” I told him before he jumped up, placed his paws against my legs, and licked my hand. “Why are you outside, anyway?”

He followed me up the old wooden steps of the wrap around porch. I swatted the moths away from the porch light before I opened the screen door. Momma always hated when those things flew inside. The door was barely opened before Sampson wriggled between my legs and the doorjamb and scurried inside.

It was past midnight, so I tried to be quiet as I tiptoed up the stairs, but that farmhouse was built in the 1800s and half of the steps creaked and groaned under my weight. The door to my parents’ bedroom was still cracked. Out of habit, I glanced in on my way down the hall. Daddy had Momma’s old, wooden rocker pulled up beside the bed. One of his weathered hands clasped Momma’s hand while the other swiped away his tears. His head was bowed, and I was certain he was praying for a miracle, but I unfortunately knew what the results of the tests she’d had the week before meant. And it was not good. After I passed my brother’s door, I slipped into mine.

When I flipped the light on, the bright pink walls nearly blinded me. I thought this was the most awesome color when I was fifteen, not so much at the age of twenty. Daddy offered to redo my room when I moved back to help out, but I didn’t see the point. He had better things to do than tone down this abysmal color.

I dropped my purse to the floor and flopped down on the bed, still in my scrubs as I stared up at the tiny glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling.

Mother was only fifty-one. Bo was only sixteen. I choked on a sob before I gave into it all and let go.

I didn’t know how to lose her.