“Is, like, Eric seeing anyone?” Melissa, their third-rider for the week and the reason that Tara desperately needed to get her hands on some caffeine soon, asked.
Blinking, Tara looked up from the stack of run sheets that she needed to finish before she could make that dream a reality and glanced over at her partner to find him sitting on the other side of the room, glaring at her. When he saw her looking at him, he mouthed, “I. Hate. You,” as his gaze flickered towards the woman who’d set off a psych patient in the back of their ambulance by telling him that Santa Claus wasn’t real.
Beyond hurt, Tara bit back a smile and said, “No, you should go for it.”