“That’s what I have you for.” Over the years, Gladys has inserted herself into my life in so many ways I should never have allowed. More than once, I’ve been tempted to tell her my story. Myrealstory. But she’d call her grand-niece and try to “fix” allmy broken pieces. I can’t let that happen. Because she’s the one who would end up shattered.
“Baby girl…”
“No. I’m done with this conversation. I saw Mr. ‘Doc’ Reynolds to Campsite Four. Or…pointed him in the right direction. And in two days, when it’s time for him to go, I’ll wave him off and that’ll be the last of it.”
Gladys is still sputtering and cursing under her breath as I stalk away from the boathouse. She’ll forgive me. Eventually. She always does. We have a variation of this conversation every few months. Whenever one of the renters looks single—and isn’t a total dick. ThoughDocscored pretty high on the dick scale.
So why am I thinking about him for so long, I almost miss the turn back up the hill to my house?
Stop it, Natasha. He’s hot. Nothing more.
Except Gladys is right. My Magic Bullet can’t hold a candle to Doc Reynolds.
CHAPTER FOUR
Doc
Fuck.This is a complication I didn’t need. I came up here to get away from everything. Well, except the satellite phone McCabe ordered me keep close at all times.
In an emergency, I can be back in Seattle in under two hours. But I had to escape the city. Be alone. Get my head on straight.
Yet all I can think about as I set up my tent is the woman who runs this place.
Nat.
Is that short for Natalie? Natalia? Natasha?
Why do I need to know? I had my shot at happiness. Tessa’s gone, and I’m not looking to start anything—with anyone. The last stake sinks into the ground, and I push to my feet, glancing out over the water.
Summer in the Pacific Northwest is beautiful. The first leaves have just started to tinge burnt orange. Days are still hot, but the temperature drops into the sixties at night. Perfect for sleeping.
I unfold the small map Nat gave me. One of the allures of this resort? It borders a large, forested area of the island. Campersare encouraged to chop their own firewood, take the canoes out on the Sound, dig Razor clams on the beaches on the other side of the island, and hike the various trails up into the hills.
Tucking my axe into my belt loop, I grab a canvas wood tote and head up the trail. After half a mile, I’m drenched. The sun warms my bare arms and the back of my neck. God, I’ve needed this. I’ve been spiraling for weeks—months even.
A handful of trees are marked with white tags as safe to cut. Most are around six feet tall, three to six inches thick. A little farther along the trail, saplings dot the hillside. They’ll be ready to cut in a couple of years.
Does Nat plant them? Or does she hire one of the locals?
I shouldn’t care. I’m here to reclaim some of my sanity. Not obsess about a woman who barely let me see her eyes. But that single glimpse was everything. In those gray irises, I found a whole world. Pain, loneliness, need. All the same emotions I see in the mirror every day.
Enough. You’re not a good bet, and she’s clearly not looking for anything.
Returning to the marked trees, I choose my target. Impact sings up my arms with each strike. The physical labor clears the cobwebs from deep in my soul.
McCabe’s team has been healthy the past few months. I shouldn’t wish otherwise. But damn. I’m bored. Working at the free medical clinic down in Georgetown a few days a week keeps me from diving head first into a bottle, but it’s nothing like the frenetic pace of an ER. Or the constant adrenaline rush I used to get as a PJ.
But with how I left Harborview—how I wasforcedto leave—the ER is as much of a fantasy as kissing Nat.
“You’re drunk!” Elias grabs my arm before I can open my locker.
I shake off his grip. “I checked my blood alcohol level before I left the house. A point-oh-four isnotdrunk.”
He gapes at me. “Youcheckedyour blood alcohol level?”
Well, fuck. That was a mistake.
Elias shakes his head. “You knowingly drove here, while impaired, with the intention of treating patients. I knew you were struggling, Doc. Hell, I don’t fucking blame you. But this is the third time you’ve come in hungover. How much longer until you make a mistake and someonedies?”
