Tenille’s face tells me she agrees as she leans back in her chair. “Dr. Aldridge, I say this with love, but she’s right. You come here, you walk Kip, and you stay in your apartment. You don’t do any of the things young kids do around here.”
I scoff. “I’m not young, Tenille.”
She gives me a look. “You’re only thirty-three. You still have a lot of life to live.”
I look down at the counter. I know everyone is right, but it’s easier just to stay in instead of putting myself out there. If I did ask out my crush and she rejected me, I’d be devastated. And I know that my sister would have a bonfire with her books.
Books I love.
Books that give me hope.
Hope for what, I have no clue. It isn’t as if I’m out here trying to live one of the many love stories I enjoy.
“I hear you.”
She smiles and then makes the squeal that I’m starting to hate. I look out the glass windows at the front of the clinic to see a man carrying a girl in his arms as she holds a lock. Of all the places I could have bought a damn clinic, I chose one across from where people come to hang up and show off their declarations of love.
I don’t care for the lore of Lock Night. I think it’s dumb. Go get a lock and write on it, and “lock in” your love. I mean, come on. It doesn’t even work. I’ve seen plenty of people cutting their locks after a breakup. But…I’ve seen more unlock them in their wedding attire.
Living their love stories.
Trying.
Yet, here I am.
Hating the lore but wishing I were out there.
With a girl and a lock.
“Oh, I love watching this.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, exhaling. I tap on the counter. “Hopefully, we have a quiet afternoon.”
I should have known better than to say that, because not even the last syllable of the word has left my lips before the front door of the clinic whips open. A teenager is standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her face as her brown eyes land on me. “Help! We need a doctor! There is so much blood.”
I don’t even think. I just react. Kip is at my heels as I jump over the counter and rush out the door by Tenille’s desk to get to the teenager. I look the girl over and ask, “Where? Are you okay?”
“Not me. Come on!”
She takes my hand, and I look back to find Tenille with my emergency backpack. I take it from her as she grabs hold of Kip’s collar. I call out a thanks before the girl drags me out the door and down the sidewalk. It’s covered in ice and snow. The January sun is bright in the sky, but it’s still colder than hell, so nothing will melt. I try to be cautious, not wanting to bust my ass, but the girl won’t let up. Before I can even ask where we’re going, she drags me into Promise Pond Books, and the air is knocked from my lungs as I take in the scene.
A woman lies on the floor, her peachy-pink hair dark with blood. A stone dick is next to her head, and her mom is trying to wake her up. My stomach flips as I take in her porcelain skin, the pink in her cheeks, and her parted mouth. My eyes fall to her chest to make sure she’s breathing, and she is, thank God.
I’ve never been this close to her.
Maeve Lane.
Multiple best-selling novels, movie deals, and a Netflix series. My favorite author.
Or, as the town knows her, Maggie Welch.
Daughter of hockey legend and mayor, Alex Welch.
Also known as the woman I have had the biggest crush on since I first saw her laughing in a paddleboat in the middle of Promise Pond.
A crush that only grew when I learned she was the author of my favorite romances.
Someone I can’t seem to string together more than two words around.
