Lucas’s eyes widen. “You know West?”
Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut.
“I’ve met him a time or two. He asked me for a second opinion on some X-Rays before Cam had surgery last year. Acquaintance of an acquaintance. I knew his wife was in tech, but nothing beyond that.”
“She took over from the founder a couple of years ago. Royce designs apps now. For us and for others.”
Royce. My first house call for Hidden Agenda. This is dangerous on every level. But Emerald City is the best, and that’s what I need. Even if it does put me on McCabe’s radar again.
“Doc? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?” Lucas frowns and reaches out to touch my arm. He’s a big guy. When he showed up, I was briefly intimidated. Until he smiled and shook my hand. If I had to guess, he’s one of those people who treats everyone he meets like they’re his family.
“Fine. Long day, that’s all. How soon can you start? And how much is this going to cost me?”
He taps his tablet screen a few times, adding all the bells and whistles to the Platinum package, then hands me the device.
Right above the total, a single line shocks me.
Friends and Family Discount - 25%
“I barely know Sampson. You don’t need?—”
Lucas gives me a look that’s equal parts sympathy and understanding. “I used to depend on places like this, Doc. The ones that didn’t ask a lot of questions. That let me pay in cash. And anyone who knows Cam had surgery last year—let alonesaw her X-Rays—is family.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nod. “Thank you.”
After he checks his calendar, he tucks the tablet back under his arm. “I don’t know what lucky star you were born under, but you caught us at the perfect time. Our installers finished up cabling work on another project this afternoon, and they’re free for the next two days. How’s 9:00 a.m. tomorrow?”
“Perfect.”
By the timeI get home, the sun is setting over Puget Sound. I haven’t eaten all day, and my fridge is empty. I was planning on fresh clams for dinner. Days like today, I feel every one of my fifty-six years. Every scar from the crash that ended my work as a PJ. Every regret and lost patient from years in the ER.
I grab a rocks glass from the bar, add a couple of ice cubes, and cut a twist of lemon. Thehissfrom the bottle of club soda isn’t what I want to hear. But it’s all I allow myself.
After I accepted McCabe’s job offer four years ago, I checked myself into a rapid detox program. I’ve been sober ever since.
But the ritual still comforts me.
I stare at the glass, but the fingers wrapped around it don’t look like mine. Blood coats the knuckles. My father’s voice echoes in my ears.
“See what you made me do? Why can’t you listen?”
My mother sobs from the floor. I jam my hands over my ears, but it never works. I can still hear her. “I’m sorry, Gage. I’ll do better.”
The glass hits the counter with a solidcrack. Club soda splashes over my hand. Fucking hell. Just a memory.
I leave the mess, suddenly desperate for air, and stumble outside to the deck. The water is only fifteen feet away, and thefresh breeze cools my cheeks. One of the evening ferries cuts through the water. I should call someone. Or go to a meeting. Anything but sink into one of my Adirondak chairs and sit here alone.
But when I pull out my phone to find the closest—and soonest—AA meeting, a text message waits on the screen.
Nat: You missed your check-in window. By a lot.
My lips twitch. I wasn’t sure she’d notice my absence.
Doc: Work emergency. I won’t make it this week. Sorry for any hassle.
Her reply comes in seconds.
Nat: Are you okay?
