Home > Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(2)

Immortal Nights (Argeneau #24)(2)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Abigail had been left with an apartment full of mementos and furniture and very little money. She intended on spending this week figuring out what the hell to do with the rest of her life.

Finishing medical school was obviously out of the question. That took money. But she had no idea what kind of job a medical school dropout could get. Or where she would live. Her life, at the moment, was a complete and utter mess.

“So,” Jet said purposefully as the barmaid slipped away to attend to other customers.

Abigail tore her eyes away from her less-than-attractive reflection and glanced warily to her friend.

“How bad is it?” he asked seriously.

Her mouth tightened and she turned back to her drink with a shrug. “I’ll survive.”

“You were worried about the medical expenses in the last letter. Did your mom’s insurance cover them?” he asked.

“Mostly,” she muttered.

“And the rest?” he asked. “How much is still owing?”

“Nothing,” she assured him, sitting up a little straighter. That was something at least. She wasn’t drowning under a sea of debt.

“Hmm,” Jet murmured and she glanced his way to see that his eyes were narrowed. She wasn’t surprised when he asked, “How?”

Abigail scowled and looked away, but after a moment admitted, “My college fund.”

“Ah, hell, Abs,” Jet muttered. “Your mother would be pissed to know that all that money she socked away for so many years was even touched by this.”

“Yeah, good thing she’s not alive to see it, huh?” she joked lamely, and wasn’t terribly surprised when Jet didn’t laugh. It really hadn’t been much of a joke, and truth be told, she’d give anything to have her mother back whether she’d be pissed or not. She’d give everything she owned, including her body and soul. God, she missed that woman so much. It just wasn’t fair.

“How much is left?” Jet asked grimly, interrupting her thoughts before she could begin sobbing there at the bar.

Abigail hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. There were eleven twenties, a ten, and some change. She knew. She’d counted them several times, hoping against hope that they’d somehow double like horny bunnies if left alone in her pocket.

“That’s it?” Jet asked with real concern, scooping up the bills and quickly counting them.

“Hey, at least I’m not in debt up to my eyeballs and having to pay off the useless bastards who killed my mother,” she pointed out with feigned good humor.

When his gaze shot to hers, Abigail shrugged and added bitterly, “It wasn’t the cancer that killed her in the end so much as that stupid expensive chemo. Every time they gave it to her, the pleura around her lungs filled with liquid, compressing the lungs. In the end, she basically suffocated to death after a chemo treatment.”

“Ah, honey.” Jet pulled her into a hug that nearly dragged her off her stool and onto his lap. “I’m so sorry.”

Abigail struggled with her emotions, fighting back the tears that wanted to escape. Once she thought she had control of them, she eased back and managed a crooked smile. “Like I said. At least I’m debt free.”

“Yeah, there is that,” he murmured, but sounded no happier than she did. They fell silent for a moment, each of them picking up their drinks and sipping at them. After a moment though, Jet set his beer back on the bar and asked, “How are you going to finish school? Sell your mom’s apartment and—”

“Mom didn’t buy the apartment. She just rented it after she sold the house,” Abigail interrupted. “She used the money from the sale of the house to help pay expenses. That’s the only reason I’m debt free.”

Jet muttered a curse he must have learned in the navy. He’d never cursed that vilely before that she recalled. His mother would have washed his mouth out with soap. So would her mother. Marge Forsythe had always looked on Jet as the son she’d never had.

Abigail watched him tip the beer to his mouth and guzzle down a good quantity. He then set it carefully back on the bar and asked, “Okay, so what are you going to do about her apartment and all her things?”

“Already taken care of,” she assured him. “I packed everything and moved it all into a storage unit. And I paid the rent for the storage unit for the next six months in advance.”

“Was that smart?” he asked with concern. “You could have paid monthly and used the money yourself.”

“It wasn’t that much. Wouldn’t even have covered more than a month’s rent in a dive,” she assured him, and then shrugged and added, “Besides, I didn’t want to take the chance of losing everything if I missed a payment. I’m hoping that by the time six months have come and gone I can afford the added expense. Or that I’ll have a place I can move her stuff to.”

“Right,” he said quietly and took another drink. This time when he set the mug down, he announced, “Well, you can stay with me until you’re back on your feet.”

Abigail stilled. It was such a generous offer, and so sweet, but she had no intention of sponging off her friend. She would visit for a week, but then she was leaving whether she’d sorted out what she was going to do next or not. Before Abigail could say as much, though, Jet added, “We have to figure a way for you to go back to school. You have to finish your degree and become the doctor you were meant to be.”

Abigail scowled and admitted, “I’m not sure I want to be a doctor anymore.”

“What?” he cried, askance. “You’ve wanted to be a doctor since we were in grade school. You talked about it nonstop.”

“Yeah, well that was before I realized that doctors are pretty much useless,” she said angrily.

“Abs,” Jet said sadly.

“It’s true,” she snapped. “They couldn’t do a damned thing for Mom. They couldn’t even prevent her suffering. Their stupid drugs took the edge off, maybe, but she was still in agony all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t still help people as a doctor,” he protested. “Just don’t go into oncology or whatever it’s called.” When she merely scowled down at her drink, he added, “Abs, you only have one year left of medical school—”

“Two,” she corrected. “I dropped out not quite halfway through the third year. I’d have to do the whole year again . . . if they even let me back in. So it would be two years of medical school.”

“Fine, two years left of school and you could be a doctor.”

“Not quite,” she said unhappily. “It would take two years of school and then at least a three-year residency before I could get my license and call myself a doctor.”

“Abs,” Jet said solemnly. “You can’t throw away six years of schooling. You have to finish this and get your doctorate. It’s what your mom would have wanted.”

Abigail winced and took another drink. Setting the glass back she said, “Pulling the mom card? That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, babe,” he said gravely. “If it was, your mom would be sitting here bitching you out for even considering not completing your degree.”

Abigail lowered her head and stared blindly at her drink. He was right. Her mother had always been proud of her determination to be a doctor. She’d been terribly upset when Abigail had insisted on “taking time off” from school to nurse her. Only promising that she would finish later had eased her mind at all.

“Okay,” Jet said suddenly. “Enough of that now. You’ve had a rough couple years and I shouldn’t be making it tougher. Let’s make a deal.”

Abigail glanced at him in question.

“For the next week, you’re going to just chill with me. We’ll sort out how to get you back into medical school after that, but for now you need some downtime and fun. Deal?”

“Deal,” she agreed with relief.

“Good.” He held up his beer and she raised her own glass to clink his, then they both drank.

“So, what’s the plan for the week?” she asked as they set their drinks down. “By the way, how did you convince them to give you time off work when you’ve just started?”

   
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