He grinned and kissed me again. "See you tonight."
“Wyatt,” I said as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. He turned as he headed for the door. “I love you.”
He froze, all emotion fell off his face, before he broke out in a grin. “I know, love you, babe.” He winked at that was it. No drums or trombones, just us.
The clinic was quiet when I arrived, the waiting room empty except for Mrs. Patterson's ancient tabby in a carrier, waiting for his yearly checkup. I waved at Susan, the receptionist, and headed back to the exam rooms.
"Tessa, good, you're here," Brooke said, looking up from where she was reviewing charts at the small desk in the corner. "I need you to prep the surgical suite. Mrs. Kowalski's bringing in her Lab for that mass removal."
"On it," I said, already moving toward the supply cabinet.
I was elbow-deep in surgical prep when Brooke joined me, already scrubbing in.
"How's the ranch?" she asked.
"Good. Fixed the fence on the south pasture last week. I still need to get the barn roof patched before winter."
"Are you doing that yourself?"
"Probably. Unless I can convince Wyatt to help."
Brooke smiled faintly. "Well that won’t take much convincing. How is Wyatt?"
"Good. Busy with the brewery." I hesitated, then added, “Maddy’s moving here. She'll be starting school in the fall."
"She’s the same age as Jackson." Brooke's tone was carefully neutral. "That'll be an adjustment."
"Yeah."
We worked in silence for a few minutes, the familiar routine of preparing for surgery. I'd done this enough timesthat my hands knew the movements without thought—laying out instruments, checking the anesthesia machine, making sure everything was exactly where Brooke would need it.
"Jackson’s been hanging out at the fire hall all summer. I wish he’d find a different hobby, I don’t like what Bill fills his head with.” Brooke said, eventually, with a sigh. I was sure it was hard for her. Her husband had been a firefighter. Grant passed away in a car accident three years ago, so she kept a pretty close watch on Jackson.
“Maybe when Maddy gets here, we can get the two of them in the same place. He can help her settle in. They can hang out at Wyatt’s. There’s enough people around all the time.” I handed her a towel.
“That might be good, thanks, Tessa.” Brooke’s worry eased from her face
The surgery went smoothly. Mrs. Kowalski's Lab came through without complications, and by the time we'd finished closing and moved him to recovery, it was nearly six.
Wyatt
The distributor meeting at the brewery ran longer than I'd planned. By the time Marcus finally signed off on expanding distribution to three more towns, it was nearly five, and I still had evening chores waiting at home.
I was loading equipment into the truck bed when my phone rang. Unknown number with a 403 area code. Calgary.
I almost didn't answer. Then something made me swipe to accept.
"Hello?"
"Wyatt?" The voice was familiar, even after all these years. Deep, with that slight rasp that came from too much smoke inhalation and not enough water.
My hand tightened on the phone. "Cal?"
"Yeah," Cal Mercer laughed, and I could picture him perfectly—leaning against whatever surface was closest, that crooked grin that had gotten us both into and out of trouble more times than I could count. "Been a while."
"Six years," I said, my mind already calculating. Six years since I’d met him in Jasper. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"
"Everything's good. Better than good, actually." There was a pause, and I heard papers rustling in the background. "I got a promotion. Provincial Wildfire Supervisor."
