As I made myself some coffee, I thought back to the night before. Sure, I was a little bit drunk, but,oh,how I remembered. Blake Pierson was in the rather unforgettable range in more ways than one, the kind of guy who would be difficult to shake off.
His body? Pure temptation, devastatingly built. His height? I always loved the rush of feeling small beside someone, and at six-four, he dwarfed my petite five-five frame, sending a thrill straight through me. His touch? A mesmerizing play of gentleroughness. The way he fucked—no. I bit back the memory before it swallowed me whole.
I needed to stop.Right now.
Over the next couple of days, I pushed what happened with Blake out of my head. I was distracted working on my paper all day Friday and Saturday, and I spent most of the day Sunday studying until it was time to go to my mom’s for family dinner.
Much to my mom’s disappointment, Wes showed up solo—no surprise, and honestly, a relief. Unlike last Sunday, however, the topic of our love lives—or the lack thereof when it came to mine—didn’t get brought up once. Instead, we talked about work and our social lives. Wes gave us an update on the progress of Lucas’s and Callie’s house, which was in the process of being built, and that led to us talking about their upcoming wedding, which was only a few months away.
“Speaking of the gang,” my mom started, “how’s Blake doing?”
I stiffened, my fork stilling mid-bite for a split second before I shook it off and looked at my brother.
“He’s alright, from what he says,” Wes answered. “I don’t know. I try not to push him too much. I don’t want him to think I’m prying if he’s not ready to talk about it.”
I’d almost forgotten. “You mean about his deployment?”
Wes nodded. “Yeah. He started therapy and whatnot, he says he’s doing fine…”
I thought back to Thursday night when I saw Blake at The Rusty Anchor. There seemed to be something distant about him, but I brushed it off as part of the game of pretend Ithoughthe’d been playing. Now, I suddenly couldn’t help but be curious. My mind kept circling back to that look in his eyes, sharp but far away.
“Well, I’m sure it’s going to take some time,” my mom said with understanding. “I can’t imagine what those men and women go through during something like that.”
“What exactly happened?” I asked. I didn’t know much about it other than he came home early due to what happened on his deployment. “I mean, I know there was a drone strike…”
“One of his closest friends was killed. That’s all I know. He hasn’t said anything beyond that. I mean, obviously the exposure to something like that is hard enough, but to lose someone you’re close to at the same time…” Wes trailed off, shaking his head. “He knows we’re here if and when he’s ready to talk about it. I just don’t want to push him, ya know?”
“Is he different?” I asked gently.
“Of course he is,” Wes answered. “Which is to be expected after what he went through. I mean, he’s still Blake, but…different.”
I could see that my brother was holding back his worry for Blake, trying to mask the way it pinched his features. Maybe he didn’t want to risk being intrusive, but the edge in his voice betrayed how badly he wanted Blake to open up, and the underlying concern was there in every word he said.
That night, after helping my mom clean up from dinner, Wes headed out, and a few minutes later, I followed.
I closed the front door behind me and started down the steps. When I noticed Wes’s car wasstillthere, my brow furrowed. Then, my gaze lifted across the street. My steps faltered. I saw him standing at the edge of the Piersons’ driveway, talking with Blake. They were both smiling, Blake nodding along with whatever Wes was saying. Then his gaze shifted and met mine, and I swore I saw him tense. Still, I raised my hand in a subtle wave, just to be polite. His hand lifted, waving back.
The gesture caused my brother to look over his shoulder. “Night, Hales,” Wes called out.
“G’night.”
I met Blake’s gaze. The air between us pulsed with uncertainty, and I let it linger for just a heartbeat, then tore my eyes away and slipped into my car.
The next few days at work were complete and utter chaos. It was a common joke among the ER staff that when it got as busy as it had been, there must be a full moon on the horizon. And it wasbusy. I worked three twelve-hour shifts in a row, barely having time to sit down during any of them.
By the afternoon of my fourth shift, things had calmed down, if only slightly. I was sitting down to do some charting when our medical director, Dr. Tomblin, came around the corner with our nurse manager, Michelle.
The two women stopped near the nurses’ station. “Hey, all,” Michelle smiled.
A few of the doctors glanced over to look through the open door from their charting area as we turned our attention to them—we didn’t often see them together unless they had some news to share. And then, Dr. Toma, my favorite to work with, appeared beside them…on his day off.
Dr. Tomblin got right to the point. “Just wanted to let everyone know that Dr. Toma will be leaving at the end of May.”
My gaze flickered to him. “What?” I said with half a pout.
He smiled softly. “My wife and I decided to make the move to New York to be closer to our daughter and the little one she has on the way.”
“Aw, that’s great,” I said. “I mean, it reallysucks…but that’sgreat.” He chuckled as he patted my shoulder.
