I’d been home for a month and a half now, and while my problems felt further from resolved than ever, and more than I let on, I was beginning to wonder if going back would help more than hinder. Even so, I tried to be practical and not make any rash decisions; I didn’t want to act on my current state of mind and the inferiority I felt from not being productive or doing enough.
I blew out a slow breath before I started the engine of my Jeep, then pulled away from the curb. I still didn’t want to go home. I thought of stopping by Wes’s apartment, or Lucas’s and Callie’s, maybe even my brother’s house, but I knew if I just showed up out of nowhere on a Thursday night, it would probably raise questions and concerns. I didn’t need to be anyone’s charity case more than I already felt.
I thought about heading toward the boardwalk, where The Sandbar was located, to simply sit with a drink and be alone, but have my thoughts drowned out by idle chatter. But I couldn’t go there, not by myself. That had become the stomping ground of Wes, Lucas, Callie, Morgan, and Gabe in the years I’d been away—they were there every Tuesday and Saturday and were close with the bar owner, Susan. I’d met her a few times, so she knew who I was, and she would probably mention in passingconversation that she saw me there…alone. That would also more than likely raise a few questions and concerns.
As if the universe was reading my thoughts, I drove up on a sign lit up against the dark background of the night sky:The Rusty Anchor. The neon “bar” sign flickering in the window gave away what kind of establishment it was.Sold.
I slowed my Jeep, turning into the parking lot and searching for an empty spot. The place was damn near packed, but I found one near the back corner, pulled in, and shut off the engine.
The Rusty Anchor was a local bar in downtown Bayport known for its first responder and healthcare patrons. Bayport General, its campus offices and clinics, the Bayport Fire Station, and the Bayport Police Department created a triangle on the town map, and right smack in the middle of that triangle sat the bar, a short distance and easily accessible from all three locations. They had designated nights to celebrate the brunt of their patrons, and tonight was First Responder Night.
I sat at the bar, nursing a drink beside Marie as she dissected and psychoanalyzed my love life, or lack thereof.
“You know, you have a tendency to go back to your exes time and time again.”
“I do not.” I most certainly did.
She snorted. “Yes, you do. Brett—three years of back and forth. In between him, there was Ryan, whom you juggled for a good year every time you and Brett were off. And we can’t forgethigh school turned college boy toy Logan, who every time he came home for visits or breaks from school over the course of, what? Four, five years? He’d call you up, and the only time you turned him down was if you were seeing Brett or Ryan. They were like the recyclable triangle.”
“Wow, thank you for that astute breakdown of the last five years of my life. But there wasn’tjust them,” I countered. “I had other dates, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, while you datedsomenewbies in between…you still double dipped with most of them—Cal, the Valentine’s Day date turneddisastershortly thereafter, being theperfectexample. Becauseyoureached out a month or so later, willing to give that jackass another shot.”
“Okay,okay,” I conceded. “I get it.”
“You were always hoping for growth and change in them,” she continued. “You wanted them to be better than the assholes they showed you they were, and your overly big heart tried toempathizewith the bullshit excuses they would feed you for their shitty behavior.”
I finally looked at her. “Is there a point to all of this?”
Marie chuckled. “All that to say…you seem to favorfamiliarity. And you need to try something—someone—new.”
“Sounds like it could be a case of loss aversion to me.”
Marie and I slowly glanced over in the direction of the voice to see Pete, the hospital’s psychology fellow, sitting a couple of stools over. “Pete, did you just eavesdrop on that whole conversation?” Marie asked, her voice tinged with amusement.
“Well, you weren’t exactly being quiet about it,” he argued playfully.
“Great.” I huffed out a quiet laugh. “I just gotcasuallydiagnosed byPete. Wonderful.”
Marie laughed beside me. A moment later, she nudged my arm, her gaze still on him as he sipped his drink while he studied the bartender. She dropped her voice so only I could hear. “Ya know…he’s got that semi-hot, slutty glasses vibe going on.”
“Seriously, donot.” I shook my head as she tipped her head back with a laugh. Pete was a nice enough guy, but that’s as far as my interest in him went. “He’s not my type,” I whispered.
“Alright, alright.” She glanced around the bar, and I knew she was scoping out the scene on my behalf. “Oh. What about Damien from radiology? Or Brian from the lab?”
I slid off my stool to stretch my back as I inconspicuously peeked over my shoulder to where the two guys she was referring to were sitting at one of the pub tables with a few others. “No. I don’t want to get involved withanyonewe work with. That can just get…messy and complicated.”
“Fair enough,” she said with a nod before continuing her search. “Oh! Trey, the hot cop?”
I leaned against the bar, following her line of vision to the guy. “No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s good-looking, but he brings us patients all of the time. That’s technically the same as working together.” I drained the rest of my drink before signaling the bartender for another.
“It’snotthe same, but okay.” She snorted, shaking her head as her eyes flickered around again. She paused, tilting her head in thought. “Hot firefighter guy at the pool table?”
I looked over and saw the man in a Bayport Fire T-shirt. I rocked my head back and forth. “Eh…”
Marie huffed. “Okay, I need you to look around and point out some guys so I can see what I’m working with here.”
I chuckled before I subtly glanced around the open space ofthe bar, trying not to make my perusaltooobvious. As I scanned the crowd, I offhandedly shifted past a man sitting at a dimly lit table in the far back corner by the window.
