Heartstrings (A Rock Star Romance Novel) - By Hadley Danes Page 0,2

bored. It was hard watching the elderly night after night—hard not to get depressed or fatalistic. But in the ER, I didn’t have time to intellectualize what I was seeing and experiencing. It was pure action—just the way I liked it.

I have been working at the same hospital for three years now and I’ve stuck with night shifts the whole way through. The extra money goes right to my student loans, and I’m used to the lifestyle now. I usually work four nights a week, and have the rest of the time to myself. My mother’s always nagging me about how bad it must be for my body to be jerked around like this, something about circadian rhythms, but my body doesn’t seem to be complaining so far. Besides the irregular sleep cycle, I’m a pretty healthy person. I hardly ever drink, I’ve never smoked, and I try and go running a couple of times a week. All things considered, I’m a pretty stable, normal girl. Can’t complain about that.

I scrub down my body and lather up my hair, savoring the feel of the hot water against my tired muscles. I’ve been working like a maniac lately, picking up extra shifts in anticipation of my upcoming vacation. In one short week, I will headed off on a cross country road trip all by myself. I’ve been planning the trip for a year, and finally saved up enough vacation time to do it right. For two weeks, it’ll just be me and the open road. I got my little car all tuned up and ready to go, I’ve mapped my route down to every last gas station and pit stop...I just have to make it through this week, and I’ll be free and clear. I smile to myself as I step out of the shower, imagining the peace that will come over me as I stare down a long stretch of empty highway, not a care in the world.

But first things first. I pat myself dry and step into my baby blue scrubs. My dad bought them for me as a graduation present—they’ve got my name, Julia, stitched into the sleeve. It’s a little corny, I know, but they make me feel close to home. My parents don’t live far away, barely half an hour. I grew up outside of Philly, which is where my hospital is located now. But I’ve only been out on my own for a few years, and it gets a little lonely sometimes. I’m an only child, so my parents were always very involved with my life. Even now, they don’t hesitate to offer opinions and advice, whether I ask for it or not. I don’t know what I’d do without their support, overbearing as they may sometimes be.

I brush out my long hair in the mirror, my light blue eyes skirting over my body, searching for any last minute adjustments that need to be made before work. I don’t wear any makeup on the job, but my skin has always been remarkably clear and fair. My smile is what really gets me by at work. It’s nice and big, the first thing that patients remark on. And if a smile will set them at ease from the get go, I’ll flash it as many times as I need to.

Satisfied with my appearance, I turn on my heel and head downstairs. The coffee machine is on an automatic timer, and I make all my meals on Sunday and package them up for the rest of the week. As I step into the kitchen, my cat Gustav is sitting on the counter, waiting for his own breakfast. As a teenager I promised myself that I wouldn’t get a cat until I had a long term boyfriend, so as to avoid becoming a cat lady. But that plan had been dashed to pieces when I found a tiny stray kitten in the hospital parking garage one night. He’d been nothing more than a little puff of gray fur that day, and there was no question of leaving him there alone. I’m OK with being a cat lady in training, though. Gustav happens to be excellent company.

I crack open a can of cat chow and let Gustav have at. The coffee machine beeps as I swing open the fridge and find six cups of yogurt, fruit, and granola lined up in front of me. Not a thing out of place. Then out of nowhere, a pang of dissatisfaction ripples