Page 46 of Chasing Storm
“Oh, still. I’m sorry,” I mumble. “So, I’m not fired?”
“Fired?” she asks in surprise. “Why no, of course not.”
“Oh, thanks.” I am shocked and relieved. That doesn’t last long, though, when she leans forward.
“I wonder if I might bother you for anothererrand.” She doesn’t even bother to phrase it as a question.
My heart sinks. Here it is. “Hm?”
“I wonder if you might grab a screenshot of your parents' new patients over the last month.”
I blink.
She doesn’t move a muscle.
I swallow, but my mouth has gone dry, so I cough and splutter, waving my hand around as I panic when I can’t breathe.
“Here,” she says, handing me a bottle of unopened water.
I take it from her and break the seal, ripping the cap off and taking a big gulp. “Sorry,” I gasp. “Sorry.”
She shrugs and smiles. “I believe I’ve been quite accommodating about your outburst to poor Sadie yesterday. Perhaps we could call thisquid pro quo, hm?”
Suddenly, my anger flares up, and I know exactly what I have to do. Without even thinking about it, I stand up and shove the water in my bag, which I sling over my shoulder with more violence than I anticipated. It swings dangerously close to Angela’s face. She rears back and stands up.
“No!” I say loudly, so there is absolutely no doubt. “No, I will not spy on my parents for you. I shouldn’t have done it last time, and Iwill notdo it now. Threaten me with a firing all you like; it doesn’t matter. I quit.”
I don’t even wait for her to say anything. I spin on my heel and march out of the office, hastily walking down the corridor to the back office, trying not to cry. My whole life has just crashed down around me. Without a job, I have no money, and with no money, I can’t keep my flat.
Fuck. Fuck. Keep moving, girl.
I roll into the back office like a cloud of thunder and stride over to my desk. I snatch up the cheque that JP sent to me, knowing I’m going to need every penny. I smile sadly at a shocked Cheryl, who probably assumes I’ve been sacked, and with my middle finger stuck up at Sadie, I storm out of the office and, with trembling hands, shove open the door to the practice, stumbling down the steps as tears fill my eyes.
I sniff and then slam into someone who is built like a brick wall.
“Fuck,” I mutter, sniffing again.
Only this time, I freeze.
I get a lungful of that gorgeous cologne bursting with rich, luxurious complexities of spice and fruit, and I groan inwardly.
“Storm,” JP says quietly, grasping my shoulders gently. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I blurt out. “Just go away.”
He drops his hands instantly and takes a step back.
I surprise both him and myself when I suddenly fling myself at him, wrapping my arms around him and sobbing wildly into his t-shirt.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I snort. “I’m all about ruining your clothes.”
“Hey,” he says, pulling me closer. “You can ruin every item of clothing I have if it makes you feel better.”
“It makes me feel worse. Now I have to pay for m-more d-dry cleaning, and I don’t have a j-job!” I shriek at him, my mood erratic now that the implications have set in. “I need to fix this. I need to go back in and fix this…”
I turn, but JP grabs my elbow. “Slow your roll, beautiful. You are in no state to fix anything. Tell me what happened?”
I open my mouth to blab all but realise I can’t. I can’t put myself in that position with the Robbs. They will get in so much trouble if the ethics board finds out about this, and that will come back on me. I’m a nobody; they are influential people in this community. Panic spikes my blood, and I lean my forehead against JP’s chest, breathing in his calming scent.
