“I think I pulled a stitch,” he said, trying to sound casual despite the throbbing pain in his chest.
“Let me see,” she commanded, and Holt knew better than to argue. His mother had been a nurse for over sixty years, and her medical instincts were still sharp.
She lifted his shirt carefully, and her expression grew serious. “You’ve opened up several stitches. We need to get you to the clinic.”
“It’s not that bad,” Holt protested weakly.
“It’s not that good either. Get in the car.” His mother’s voice brooked no argument.
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in the waiting room of the Sandpiper Shores Medical Clinic. The building was small butmodern, clearly designed to serve the needs of both year-round residents and summer visitors. When Dr. Lucy Tanner appeared to call him back, Holt felt a wave of nostalgia.
“Hello, Holt,” Lucy said with a warm smile. “I heard through the grapevine that you were back in town.”
“Hello, Lucy,” Holt replied, standing carefully. “Sorry…” He read her name tag. “Dr. Tanner.” He smiled. “It’s good to see you.”
He’d known Lucy since childhood, back when her name was Lucy Hoops, and she was just another kid running around Sandpiper Shores, where they had both been born. She’d grown into a competent physician who’d chosen to return to her hometown rather than chase prestige in a big city.
“Hi, Mina. If you don’t mind waiting out here?” Lucy said, smiling at Holt’s mother.
“Of course,” Mina said. “I’ll go get a coffee.” She smiled. “I love this clinic as you have real coffee here.”
“We actually have a wide range of tea now, too,” Lucy pointed out.
“Fancy,” Mina said, then kissed Holt on the cheek. “Be good.”
“I’m sixty-one, not ten, Mom,” Holt said on a sigh.
“You’ll always be my baby,” Mina pointed out. “I don’t care how old you are.” She looked at Lucy. “Take good care of my baby.”
“I will,” Lucy promised, then led him down a hallway lined with examination rooms. “Let’s hope this won’t take too long.”
Once they were alone in the small room, Lucy gestured for him to sit on the examination table while she washed her hands and pulled on gloves.
“So what happened?” she asked, approaching him with professional efficiency. “Can you pull off your shirt?”
Holt nodded, taking off his shirt, and found himself blurting out the truth before he could stop himself. “I ran into June on the beach. She fainted, and I caught her. I must have pulled the stitches then.”
Lucy’s hands stilled for a moment, and she looked at him with concern. “June fainted?”
“Carmen is with her,” Holt said quickly. “She’s taking care of June.”
“Good,” Lucy said, though she still looked worried.
“Do you know about her accident?” Holt asked.
Lucy raised her brows. “You know I can’t discuss my patients with you.”
“So she is your patient,” Holt said immediately.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “You always were too observant for your own good. Now let’s focus on your wounds. What exactly am I dealing with here?”
Holt gave her a brief overview of his injuries, telling her about the three gunshot wounds, the head trauma, and the surgery he’d undergone in Miami. Lucy listened with professional interest, asking clarifying questions and making notes on his chart.
“Okay,” Lucy said. “That’s quite a story.”
Holt nodded distractedly. “How long has June been back in Sandpiper Shores?” he asked as Lucy prepared to examine his chest.
“I think it was today,” Lucy said evasively. “When did you get back into town?”
