Page 110 of When the Smoke Clears

“What were you two doing in there for so long?” Mom asks, chopping a red onion.

“Just talking. No sex until I’m ready to go home,” Everleigh says without the slightest falter in her step as she heads to the covered deck.

I stop and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Well.” Mom clears her throat. “I like her. A lot.”

I drop my hand to my side with a sigh. “Don’t get too attached. She’s moving to Baltimore.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Everleigh

“Can I ask how old you are? You look too young to be a doctor,” Steffi says as we eat bison burgers and roasted veggies at the table on the deck with the heaters going full blast.

“That’s a great question,” Will says before I can swallow and answer for myself. “Everleigh is almost thirty. She’s a genius. Skipped a bunch of grades.”

“I’m twenty-nine.”

Will eyes me with a tiny scowl as he chews his food. I’m the one who should be scowling. He didn’t text me happy birthday two weeks after he left in August.

“Oh, so you were eighteen when you and Will met? That’s young.” She winks at Will.

I study him, enjoying the misery on his face as he so desperately wants to tell Steffi that I was seventeen and didn’t disclose my age. But then he’d have to include the part where he freaked out over a possible statutory rape charge (because that’s where he gets the real sympathy), which would disclose the fact that we had sex. And he’s not ready to go the distance with that conversation.

“Will said you’re moving to Baltimore. What’s in Baltimore?”

Am I moving? I look at Will, but he keeps his focus on his food.

“I was offered a position at Johns Hopkins. I haven’t taken it yet. But I need to decide soon. Will’s an amazing friend. He just wants to see me live up to my true potential, so that’s why he’s so certain I’ll take the job.” I nudge his leg with my foot, and he relinquishes a quick glance.

“Johns Hopkins sounds like a big deal. Why wouldn’t you take the job?” Steffi asks.

“My mom lives in New York. She’s an artist. I love her to death, but I also love the three-thousand-mile buffer between us.”

Steffi laughs. My comment even draws a soft chuckle from Will.

“I also love Montana. And I have friends here. And as I mentioned earlier, I’m in the process of building a barndominium with a stunning mountain view. I don’t think Baltimore can compare.”

“You could keep your place in Missoula as a vacation home,” Steffi says. “I assume you probably make enough money to own more than one property.”

I take a drink of water, then shake my head. “Psychiatrists don’t make that kind of money.”

“But people who have VR-related patents can afford it,” Will says.

“What’s that?” Steffi asks.

“He’s talking about virtual reality. I’ve designed therapeutic programs for kids. But I don’t spend my patent money. It’s all being reinvested.”

Steffi sighs. “My son has found a genius.”

Will coughs and shakes his head. “N-no. I’ve not found anything. I know a genius. Found implies more. Like . . .”

“Finders keepers?” I ask, cocking my head to make him as uncomfortable as possible. I find with Will, I do the exact opposite of what my training tells me to do. I don’t want to be his doctor. I want to be the woman he can’t live without. Unfortunately, he’s made it clear that he can live just fine without me.

So why am I still in Montana acting like a lovestruck heroine instead of a brilliant doctor doing groundbreaking research in Maryland?

“Older men are overrated,” Steffi says, saving her son from answering me. “They get cancer. Wear diapers. And flirt with the first piece of saggy ass that waddles past them with a fancy walker.”