I knew the entire anatomy of the head and neck and every single bacterium that could possibly exist in one’s mouth, but I didn’t know how to tie a boat to a dock.
Out of desperation, I submitted a few résumés despitemy lack of skills and sighed, hoping at least one would land me an interview.
Just as I was about to close out of the web browser, a brand-new listing appeared that I wasn’t expecting. It sent a jolt of anxiety into my bones—one that only existed with things related to dentistry.
Summit Dental Clinic
Hygienist Needed
Four days a week. Competitive pay. Please call Shelby for details.
619-334-5627
I stared at the job listing for several minutes. There was no way I would take another hygiene job after just escaping my father’s clinic and swearing never to step foot into a dental clinic again.
I knew it was a bit dramatic, but it wasn’t easy for someone to understand when they didn’t come from my world.
I’d been betrothed to porcelain crowns and scalers from the moment I was born. When you’re the princess of the dental world, you don’t get much say in your career choice—especially when the original heir, Mason, failed to inherit the crown and chose doomsday prepping instead.
I had never been that interested in the dental field growing up. It wasn’t my passion. All I had ever wanted to do was write books. I spent all my time either reading books or spilling words onto pages as I tried to write one.
But my parents were quick to snuff out that young, naïve flame I’d dared to ignite. Being an author wouldn’t allow me to make a suitable living, they’d said. I needed areal job, they’d said. And so I listened to them because I trusted them at the time. They were my parents, after all.
They were also the holders of all things money.
They had agreed to pay for everything if I went to dental school. When I didn’t outright agree, they convinced me to try dental hygiene school first and said that if I enjoyed it, then I could go on to dental school. It had seemed practical enough.
Because I was the youngest and the last chance to pass on the dental legacy, they’d offered to buy me an apartment near campus so I could be involved with campus life and even gave me a weekly allowance. It was a calculated arrangement, but one I hadn’t been able to refuse at the time.
They were ecstatic when I went to school and even more so when I graduated and agreed to apply for dental school. I’d been proud of myself for making them proud. I survived four years of exams and clinicals and graduated with honors. Despite having dreams elsewhere, I feared that maybe my parents were right—and that I didn’t have what it would take to become a real author. So while I waited for dental school applications to open, my father had me working as a hygienist at his Riverside clinic to avoid a lapse in my resume. I was ahead in life and should’ve been happy with the world at my fingertips.
And then, three months ago, everything changed.
I sighed and clicked out of the job search page. I grabbed my phone and checked for messages. I’d been periodically looking at the screen all day, expecting a message to pop up at any moment from my parents. But so far, nothing. I thought my mom might have reached out and tried to smooth things over by now. I was trying not tofeel the sting of the fact that neither of them had reached out. It was what I had wanted, after all. Wasn’t it?
As I lay down to sleep that night, the job listing for a dental hygienist lingered at the edges of my consciousness like a ghost. I tossed and turned, trying to tell myself it didn’t matter that hygiene paid three times as much as any of the jobs I’d just searched for. I valued my happiness too much to subject myself to that sort of environment ever again.
I wanted to sleep through the night without waking up with my heart nearly beating out of my chest and my face and fingers going completely numb. I wanted desperately to free myself from everything that had occurred in that horrible place with my father and Dr. Pike.
The pay reduction would be worth it.
As long as it kept my demons away.
CHAPTER 5
The manager from the ski resort had responded to my email inquiry on Sunday night, and so I was wide awake Monday morning at 6 a.m., ready for my upcoming job interview. My anxiety was sky-high, making it impossible to sleep in. The guy who had responded was named Aaron, and he’d mentioned openings for a summer lift operator and a boutique receptionist. I had a lot riding on this job; it was the only one, besides the dental ad, that paid above minimum wage.
My stomach was tying itself in nervous knots as I waited for seven to roll around, so I decided I would just leave early and wait in the parking lot. I grabbed a poppy seed muffin I’d brought home from the diner, locked my door, and stepped outside into the cool mountain air. I was just about to reach my car when I heard heavy footfalls coming up the running trail. My heart sped up for a second, not expecting anyone to be out in the forest at this hour. Thankfully, when I spun around, I recognized Jayand Luna running on the trail almost immediately, and the growing panic subsided.
“Oh, it’s just you,” I mumbled, a chunk of poppy seed muffin still in my mouth. I quickly tried to chew and swallow, but I’d definitely bitten off more than was ladylike.
“Sorry to startle you again,” Jay said, slowing down to a walk with a very excited Luna at his side, tugging on her new leash.
I hurried to swallow my muffin and prayed I didn’t have seeds in my teeth when I spoke again.
“No worries. I’m just heading out for a job interview.” I mentally smacked myself for being so weird. He definitely did not ask.
Jay’s mouth twitched. “A job interview, huh? Well, that’s exciting.” His gaze shifted down to the other half of the poppy seed muffin in my hand. “Careful. That’s an opioid muffin. If they require a drug test, you might come back positive.”
