She stared down at the form in front of her, scrubbing wearily at her eyes with the palms of her hands. She was so exhausted. Why was it that paperwork drained her like this?
Well, at least in this case, she knew the answer to that. It was the legalese she had to read through – it was a killer. She wasn’t sure if the lawyers themselves knew what these contracts meant. They probably just threw together a bunch of big words and figured no one would call them on their bullshit.
Which, they were right. At least in her case. Iris scribbled her name down at the bottom and then folded the papers and shoved them into the postage-paid envelopes.
She was about to become a medical coder.
After enrolling and graduating from the CNA program in high school, and then getting her nursing degree from Idaho State University, she had more medical knowledge in her little pinky than most people did in their whole bodies.
Now, Post Accident or PA as she liked to call it in her head, she may not be able to hover over people’s bedsides and take their temperature, or recommend the best dosing schedule for a round of antibiotics, but she could code in medical records for insurance companies. It involved nothing but paperwork, Iris’ least favorite part of being a nurse, but on the other hand, she could do it from home, it paid well, and it used her medical knowledge.
Oh, and she didn’t have to stand while typing it all in. There weren’t many jobs that offered all of those benefits. In fact, Iris was pretty sure there were exactly no other jobs that offered all of those benefits.
If there were, she’d probably do them instead, because medical coding…
Certainly not her dream job.
At least the Hermingston Medical College would allow her to test out of the vocabulary and human anatomy classes, so she wasn’t going to be forced to spend months on end learning information she already knew backwards and forwards. All she had to do was learn the codes and the programs, and she’d be on her way.
Thankfully, learning had always come easy to her. That was how she and Declan had started spending time around each other to begin with, of course. He’d been getting his ass handed to him by Spanish 2, and although she wasn’t a native-born speaker of Spanish, her grasp had been a lot stronger than his. She’d been hunkered down in the corner of the library one day, studying, when he’d come up to her and asked her if she offered tutoring for Spanish.
She’d known who he was, obviously. No teenage girl in a twenty-mile range had missed the Millers. Stetson was a lot younger than they were, so he hadn’t been on her radar, but Wyatt always had that brooding bad boy persona and Declan…he was just nice. Thoughtful and nice and cheerful and funny and…drop-dead gorgeous.
Speaking of the Miller boys, Iris was thrilled to see Wyatt so happy with Abby, and God bless Abby for giving him his life back. After Sierra and Shelly died, a horrific accident her mom had told her about when she’d been living over on the other side of the state, Wyatt had become even more withdrawn. Even more prickly.
He was handsome – all the Miller brothers were – but he wasn’t Declan. She didn’t know how Abby could put up with Wyatt, actually, although the way he’d looked at her during their wedding last night…she’d never seen that man grinning as much as he had been during the festivities. Maybe Abby had finally busted down that wall that he’d always had around him.
Declan wasn’t that way, though, not at all. Even as a teenager, he’d been incredibly thoughtful, and so much fun to be around. Studying Spanish with him, listening to his horrendous Spanish accent…she’d never laughed so hard in her life.
Oreo bumped her hand, letting out a small meow, and Iris jumped. She felt wetness on her cheeks and realized she’d been crying. Dammit all, she’d been crying over Declan Miller, for the 478th time.
“No more,” she said to Oreo, who headbutted her hand, obviously not content with the pace of the pettings he was receiving. “Stetson or Wyatt or someone else has told him the truth about his ex-girlfriend; about how she’s turned into a gimp. I’m never going to see him again, and I will be happy.”
Oreo let out a yowl, and Iris laughed through the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Exactly,” she said, with a nod for emphasis. “Now, let’s go find you and Milk some food to eat.” She pushed back from the table and grabbed her cane. Without her dad to hold on to like she’d had at the reception last night, she was dependent on her cane, even just when walking around her apartment. The very last thing she wanted to do was to reenact a 35-year-old version of the infamous, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” commercial.
She wouldn’t let herself get to that point. Not ever. She’d had so much stripped from her; she wasn’t going to have her independence stripped, too.