After thanking him about a million times—and getting lots of ‘don’t mention it’—he gives me a quick tour of the main hospital in Maple Falls. It’s nothing like SF General, but honestly, I think I like it more. I can already imagine myself bouncing between general nursing one day and the ICU the next. It feels like a place where my days won’t be boring.
And the fire station where Keoni works is just down the street. I could bring him lunch, or dinner, whenever he is free.
Thinking about him drags me back to how we left things Saturday night. I’d gone straight inside, right upstairs, and shut myself off. Because I know what I saw—one of the officers definitely had his phone pointed at us. For what, I’m not sure, but I had a good enough idea of what itcouldmean.
That night, I texted Michael.
Michael
Please don’t tell me you’ve had me followed here in Colorado, Michael
It’s gone unread, and it’s Tuesday.
What else has gone unread, is my text to Keoni.
Keo
Keo, I’m sorry I reacted that way
I’ll start seeing a therapist, I think it’ll be good for me
I’m sorry…
I know I don’t deserve to ask, but please don’t ignore me
Instead of sitting down for lunch, I grab a sub to go and call a cab back to the cabin. On the ride, I wonder if I’d shown up at the station, would Keo have talked to me? Kali or Taylor probably would’ve made him, or at least insisted I eat with them.
But I don’t want to eat with them.
I want Keo.
As the cab winds through Sapphire Valley, I catch myself itching to tell the driver to turn left instead so I could see Calista. Then I remind myself—it’s the middle of the week. Odds are, no one’s home. And if she is, she’s probably working.
Truth is, I have no idea what she even does. Maybe she’s rich and doesn’t have to work at all. Maybe her boyfriend works, and she just stays home.
I don’t know, but I’ll make a mental note to figure that out sometime this week. But, showing up at her cabin at two in the afternoon doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.
The moment the trees break and Wildhart comes into view, my heart sinks.
There’s a car parked out front. Not Keo’s truck. Not a work van either, so the hope that the plumbers showed up weeks early is out.
As we roll closer, I see him. Standing on the patio.
Oh no.
His gaze cuts to the cab, and it’s already too late to tell the driver to turn around. I could, sure—but he’d probably just get in his car and follow me.
Maybe I should have the driver head to the station instead. That’s probably smarter.
But what if it’s not?
Shit.
How the hell did he even know about this place?
The cab pulls to a stop beside the black sedan. My pulse spikes as I dig for my phone.
Keo
