Georgia, my new roommate, is already up, pouring coffee into a pink Hydro Flask mug. She’s wearing fitted jeans and a black tank top, her strawberry blonde hair twisted into a messy bun. She looks half-asleep as she rubs her eyes but still manages a friendly smile.
“Good morning, Teagan,” she says. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great. Still getting used to how quiet it is here compared to Houston.”
She laughs softly. “Yeah, it’s a big change. I’ve been to Houston afew times to visit my mom’s extended family, and it’s... chaotic. No noisy highways in Lonestar Junction, that’s for sure.”
“Another twelve-hour day with the kids?” I ask, nodding toward her coffee.
She nods with a tired smile. “Yep. But it’s not so bad. They’re adorable, and I keep them busy running all over the city. I probably won’t get home until eight or nine tonight.”
During our initial chats, Georgia had told me that she nannies for a wealthy family deeply involved in Texas politics. Five days a week, she makes the 30-minute commute to San Angelo to care for their two little kids. Summers are a whole other thing—she goes with them to the Hamptons in New York for three whole months, working while they vacation and socialize with other politicians. Long hours come with the territory, especially with all the public appearances and events they juggle but she seems to love it.
“If you’re planning to throw a wild rager,” she jokes, taking a sip of coffee, “now’s your chance. They’re heading to Mexico in two days and bringing me along. I’ll still be working, but hey, at least I’ll be doing it on a beach while the kids swim.”
I grin. “Sounds nice, even if it’s not a real vacation.”
“How are you settling in?” she asks.
“Still figuring things out,” I admit, leaning against the counter. “It’s weird having everything so far away. If you need anything major, you basically have to go into San Angelo.”
“You get used to it pretty quick,” she says with a shrug. “If you need me to pick up anything like prescriptions or something you can’t find here in town, just let me know and I can bring it back with me.”
“I appreciate that.”
She smiles warmly and it’s that small town charm that I’ve come to appreciate since moving here where people look out for eachother. “How are things going with Doc Montgomery?”
“Louis has been great. The variety of animals that the clinic sees keeps my brain active during my shifts. The whiplash is real though—one minute I’m seeing a cat and the next I’m treating a cow. I really never know what I’m going to walk into each day and doc is quite… quirky. I think he’s trying to see if I’ll crack under the pressure.”
She nods and smiles. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting settled. If you need anything or have any questions, shoot me a text.” She moves toward the front door and then pauses, “Oh, one more thing—I saw that we’re likely going to be impacted by the hurricane hitting Houston this week. Remember to attach the storm shutters before you leave for work and please take it seriously. It’s rare to get a hurricane down here, so when we do, everything shuts down. You might want to pick up some extra groceries and supplies ahead of time because you never know if the power will get knocked out. Storms here can be fickle.”
“Okay, thanks for the heads up. I’ll try to swing by the store to get some after work tonight.”
She heads out the door, leaving me to fill my mug and brace myself for another long day at the clinic. Even though Georgia and I have barely crossed paths, I have to admit—I’ve enjoyed living with her so far. She keeps the house spotless, tiptoes in quietly after late nights in San Angelo, and doesn’t bother me with unnecessary small talk. It’s been... easy. Comfortable.
I haven’t had any friends or visitors over yet—mostly because I haven’t made any in town—and Georgia hasn’t mentioned a boyfriend or brought anyone around either. But now that I’ve started seeing Doc’s son, I can’t help but wonder how she’d feel if I brought him over for dinner one night while she’s out.
Speaking of Hardin, our date on Tuesday went better than I expected. We started with dinner at a cozy little restaurant in San Angelo, the kind of place that’s dimly lit with candles on the table, and ended with drinks at a nearby bar. He’s thirty-five,a doctor at Lonestar Junction Hospital, with warm brown eyes and sandy blonde hair that always looks like he’s just come back from a day at the beach. He’s charming, no doubt about it—easy to talk to, quick with a laugh, and the kind of guy who opens the door for you without making a big deal about it.
Over dinner, he told me about how he spends his downtime playing pick-up basketball and how he’s still finding his rhythm after moving to town not long ago. We bonded over being newcomers—figuring out the lay of the land and hoping to make connections. I’d been hesitant to dip my toes into the dating pool, especially since my time here feels temporary, but when he kissed me goodnight—soft and polite—I surprised myself by agreeing to a second date.
Still, as sweet as he is, I can’t shake this gnawing feeling in the back of my mind. I’ve been searching for that spark—that unmistakablepullthat makes your heart race and keeps you thinking about someone long after you’ve said goodbye. The kind that makes your stomach flutter when their name pops up on your phone. But with Hardin? It’s not there. Not yet anyway.
Maybe it just needs time. Maybe it’ll show up eventually, like an ember catching flame. Or maybe it won’t. And honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about that.
As I drive to the clinic, I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting to our next date on Thursday night. Hardin suggested going to a baseball game in San Angelo. Sports aren’t exactly my thing, but I said yes—it’s better than sitting at home alone, staring at the four walls of my bedroom.
Then again, with the hurricane brewing in the Gulf, there’s a good chance our plans might get rained out. Part of me feels relieved at the idea of having a little more time to figure out what I really want. Because, for now, I’m not sure if Hardin is someone that I’m genuinely excited about or if I’m just saying yes to avoid being lonely. And that doesn’t feel fair to him.
Three hours later, I’m fully buried in the chaos of my workday.The clinic’s been slammed with patients all morning, likely last-minute appointments before the storm blows in, but things are finally starting to slow down as lunchtime approaches. Just as I think I might catch my breath, the chime of the front door signals another new arrival. I glance up briefly from examining Izzy the Iguana in one of the back rooms, ready to jump right back into the whirlwind.
“Izzy’s going to be alright. It looks like it's a simple skin infection. We’ll clean her off and take a biopsy to determine if it’s fungal or bacterial, but in the meantime, I’ll provide you with some antibiotics and an antifungal to treat it.”
“Thank you so much, Doctor Keating," Izzy's owner says.
I smile and nod, taking the iguana off the table and placing her back in her carrier. “If you want to wait out front for me in the lobby, I’ll bring her back in a few minutes and then we can go over the medication instructions together.”
Izzy’s owner heads to the front while I move towards the back to clean the iguana’s skin and retrieve the medications she’ll need. After double checking everything and taking a quick bite of my half-eaten sandwich, I head back out to the lobby to go over all the instructions and then send them on their way.
