Page 4 of Changing Lanes

Well, whatever’s happening between these two will come to light at some point. Even if I’m the one lifting the goddamn cover, it’ll come out. Creekwood isn’t that big and secrets don’t stay hidden for long around here. Our old neighbor girl found that out the hard way.

Dropping the juice bottle in recycling, I turn for the bathroom, pausing when she speaks again.

“It’s Paige, by the way. But you knew that.”

When I spin around, she’s already gone, out the front door.

Marc’s on me the next second. “Dude, what the fuck was that? She lives here now. Could you at least make an effort at being civil when she’s around?”

“Oh, that’s rich. You want me to get her a fruit basket while I’m at it, Mr. Welcoming Committee?”

He waves me off, moving to trail after her.

“I didn’t even agree to her moving in, bro. I still think we should cancel the check and get someone else.”

He stops short. “She didn’t write a fucking check. What year do you think it is? She gave me cash.”

“Then give it back.” Neither of us are hurting for money and she can use it on another unit. Preferably away from Creekwood.

“She has a clean record, paid in full for the first month already, and rides. What more are you looking for? A dick? Too bad. Angela was basically living here for the past year and last I checked they both have the same parts.”

Despite his shitty tone, I can’t help but jerk my head, asking, “You checked?”

His face splits into a grin, shaking his head. “Coty would kill me.”

We share a laugh but I don’t miss the way he only acknowledged Angie in that statement, which leaves his interest in Paige a mystery still. A mystery I find very interesting—and not in a good way either.

I scrub my hands down my face. “I’ll try, man, but you put me in a bad spot here.”

My eyebrows lift with meaning and he simply nods, saying, “it’ll be a’ight,” before disappearing outside.

Worst famous last words ever.

CHAPTER 2

Paige

“Hey. How’s it looking in there? Any different from the last time you checked?” Cynthia asks from the nurses’ station.

“Actually, no.” I laugh, grabbing the chart at the top of the pile.

Cynthia and I completed the same nursing course fresh out of high school and we both got hired on fulltime here at Sunbrook Senior Living during our clinical rotation. We’ve been working together ever since and get along pretty well despite her taste in music. Seriously, techno just isn’t for everyone. I get it. Working in an Alzheimer’s care facility, we all need our outlets and raves are hers. The night shift hours alone can take a toll physically, not to mention the emotional strain that can happen as well.

“Is everything still set for tomorrow?” she asks.

“All the paperwork is completed and in with Rosie at this point, so everything should be good to go. I was thinking about coming in early to help out.”

Cynthia’s already shaking her head. “Remember, it’s better to keep to the schedule. We have to create some sort of normalcy for the residents. All of them.” She gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sure the day staff will do a great job.”

“I know.” I exhale loudly. “You’re right.”

We’re not supposed to give any of the patients—or I’m sorry, ‘residents’ as management insists we call them—special treatment, even though every employee working here will admit to having favorites. We all do. It’s hard not to. Working closely with others who depend on you to change their bedding, bathe them, sometimes even spoon feed them, it pulls at your heartstrings. It’s natural to develop an affinity for those you care for. Whether they can remember you or not is irrelevant. They’re still human beings and us human beings all want the same thing: to feel safe and loved.

Speaking of favorites, I flip open the chart to see how my main man Dennis is doing today. Dennis Gregory’s been here longer than any of the other residents and he’s got quite the reputation. When he’s good, he’s great. When he’s struggling, we all do, too. He’s one of the needier residents and has to be checked on often. According to the nurses on day shift, he can get aggressive but only occasionally and usually before I get here. Cynthia and I typically miss out on the sundowning phenomenon Alzheimer’s patients can sometimes experience but we’ve definitely caught the aftereffects when showing up for our later shift. Dennis is what we call a waker, meaning he wakes frequently and wanders the halls looking for food, activities, even dates. Yep, Dennis is a regular Casanova even at eighty-two. I found him sweet talking a plant once and it’s the only time I can honestly say I was jealous of a fern. He was probably a total player in his day.

From the notes jotted down in his chart, it looks like Dennis had a rough day already.

That makes two of us.