Shock - Marie Johnston Page 0,22
from the beginning.
Then why does it suddenly seem so hard to ignore all those things now? It’s like my mind’s rewinding and replaying every time he grinned at me, all the inside jokes we share, how he warms me to the point of intimate discomfort. And now this thing we had going is messed up over an amazing kiss.
Mitch glances to the door where the new team is entering and heading to the locker room. “I wanted to talk to you about something before we go.”
“Okay?”
“Did you see that the company is offering a paramedic course this fall?”
“I figured they would be. Isn’t it an every other year thing?” When I first moved here, I chose only to do the shorter EMT course. It was an entirely new career and I had to feel it out first.
“The pay increase would be significant.”
I’m not worried about the money. “Worried that I’ll lose the roof over my head?”
“No, but we’re talking dollars more an hour. You’re an excellent EMT, and you’d be a great paramedic. Not many places offer an accelerated program like Sunnyville EMS—and pay for it.”
His tone says I would be a fool to pass this up. It’s a great opportunity. So why am I so reluctant to listen to Mitch on this? Perhaps I want to decide for myself. I moved here determined to make my own way, to carve my own path in the world, and I’m doing that.
I’m doing exactly what I moved to Sunnyville to do. And Ford is helping me keep it that way.
When I don’t express the excitement Mitch expects of me, he says, “Is it the three-year contract?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it that hard.” Three years working for Sunnyville EMS after the course was done. Since the course doesn’t start until September, I’d be committing to at least four years—to both this company and Sunnyville.
Four years.
I came here with no plan, but four years sounds like more than a plan. Four more years living next to Mrs. Rosenthal. Four more years renting. I can hear Dad spouting his financial advice when I graduated from college.
Why would you throw money away on a rental when you can start building equity?
Instead of throwing my money away, I moved in with Samuel. Into the house he’d shared with his ex-wife. Into the same bedroom.
“Just keep it in mind. We want you to stick around.” Mitch lifts his chin toward the two incoming crew members leaving the locker room.
As he launches into the details of our shift and the unusual ticking he thinks he heard from the engine, I let my mind drift. A paramedic. Ford did the accelerated class when he got out of medical school. He’s almost done with his three-year contract. He also told me I should go the same route. I was too new and feeling over my head during my first few months on the job to listen then.
Getting my job to pay for the course while guaranteeing work for the near future is a good deal. I’d even be able to work part-time while doing classes.
We want you to stick around.
Since Mitch has his eye on the manager position, he’s got the company’s best interests in mind, not just mine. I’m a little tired of people with ulterior motives making decisions for me. I’ll table that discussion for now.
Unfortunately, that leaves his earlier advice to talk to Ford.
How would I do that? Wait until our next shift on Thursday? No, my private life has encroached on work too much already.
So that leaves calling him or stopping over, but since he doesn’t answer his phone half the time unless it’s Cass or his mom, that leaves going to his place.
That won’t be awkward at all.
I changed into a pair of jean shorts and a pink T-shirt before I left work, but as I’m walking up to Ford’s door, I can’t help tugging at the hemline. Maybe I should’ve put on something nicer? This was all I had and it’s just fine. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I’m here as a friend, worried about our friendship.
The door looms before me, a battered wood door that Ford is saving up to replace. He’s put so much money into his childhood home, upgrading plumbing, fixing the fence to keep the neighbor’s dog from crapping in his yard, and replacing appliances as they died from old age, that the door is low on the priority list.
Maggie’s so proud of