Chapter 8
EIGHT
DANIEL
As I stared at the blank shock written across the face that had haunted my dreams for months, I was torn between a desire to freeze the moment to drink in every detail of her messy bun and the long-lashed, fathomless dark eyes locked on mine, and a deep regret for my big mouth.
I hadn't meant to just come out with it like that—blurting out my feelings like some lovesick teenager in front of the entire damn clinic.
No matter what kind of fantasies I'd harbored about her taking one look at me and leaping into my arms, I'd known the likelihood of that was slim to none.
Not with how spectacularly I'd fucked up.
But the moment I'd laid eyes on her, everything had just crystalized with startling clarity.
All the careful speeches I'd rehearsed during the drive here had evaporated like morning mist.
Given that her expression didn't change—didn't soften, didn't warm, didn't show even a flicker of the affection that used to light up her features when she saw me—I knew I hadn't helped my cause.
But damn, it was so good to see her. She looked good, with a trace of sun on those cheeks deepening her natural golden skin, telling me that no matter how hard she'd been working since she moved home to this island, she'd still found some outside time.
Maybe early morning runs like she used to do back in Louisiana.
Everything in me wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss the bejeezus out of her.
To erase the distance I'd been fool enough to put between us with my stubborn pride and misplaced priorities.
But I'd sure as shit lost the right to do that, so I didn't move.
Would this grand gesture I was making be enough?
I'd changed my whole world to be here for her the way I should have in the first place.
Requested a transfer, uprooted my entire life, burned bridges with my old station commander who'd made it clear he thought I was making a career-limiting mistake.
But what if it was too late? What if she'd moved on?
What if there was some old high school boyfriend she'd reconnected with since she came back to Hatterwick?
Some local guy who understood island life in ways I never could?
What if I'd potentially torpedoed my career and made this desperate move for nothing?
A host of what-ifs threatened to drown me, and more apologies rose on the tip of my tongue.
But now was not the time nor the place. As the silence spun out well past the point of awkward and into downright uncomfortable territory, I realized everyone in the room was staring at me with varying degrees of confusion and curiosity.
Because, yeah, I'd just made that announcement in front of her entire staff, the couple of patients sitting in the waiting room, and Tank.
Brilliant job, LaRue. Way to blow up your chances straight out of the gate.
Before Gabi said a word—before she told me to get the hell out or demanded an explanation—the door behind me opened with a sharp jingle of the bell.
"Oh, thank God. You're still here. We've got a problem."
Dragging my gaze away from Gabi's stunned face, I spotted a middle-aged woman supporting a guy whose face was pale with pain. A construction nail protruded through the top of his work boot, and blood was seeping through the leather.
Gabi hurried past me without so much as a glance, her training kicking in as she ducked under the guy's arm on the other side, helping stabilize him.
"Mr. Dees, I really hope you're up to date on your tetanus shot.
" The professional mask slipped seamlessly into place, transforming her from the woman I'd loved and lost into Dr. Carrera.
She snapped orders to her staff with crisp efficiency.
"Justin, we're gonna put him in room one.
Kristie, prep for extraction and disinfection. "
I felt terrible for the poor guy with the nail in his foot, but I loved seeing Gabi work.
She was competence personified, moving with practiced grace and unwavering confidence, and it was so very clear that this was what she was meant to do, where she was meant to do it.
She'd told me that back in New Orleans, and I'd heard her, but I hadn't truly listened.
I'd been too caught up in my own vision of success to understand that hers looked different.
Well, regret and I were becoming fast friends these days.
As all the medical staff disappeared to the back with their patient, I found myself left alone in the waiting area with a narrow-eyed woman I presumed was the office manager.
Curiosity and suspicion warred in her pretty brown eyes as she sized me up.
It was absolutely clear she wondered who the hell I was, what I was doing here, and why I'd just declared my love for her boss in front of half the island.
She didn't trust me further than she could toss me, and honestly, I didn’t blame her for that.
I respected a dragon guarding the gates.
"Right. We're here to board up the clinic's windows and whatever else y'all need." I figured I should probably get back to the actual reason I was supposed to be here.
The woman—Nina, according to the nameplate on her desk—unfolded her arms and relaxed slightly. "Appreciate that. We've had back-to-back patients all day and haven't been able to get to it. There's plywood around back and a toolkit in the break room if you need anything extra."
Tank jerked a thumb toward the door. "We've got a drill and stuff in the truck. You just let us know what else y'all need. We'll get started on those windows."
"Thanks, hon. Y'all are lifesavers."
Recognizing a dismissal when I saw one, I followed Tank back outside into the humid air.
The wind had picked up noticeably since our arrival, and dark clouds were building on the horizon.
While he grabbed the tools from the truck, I circled around to the back of the building.
Sure enough, several half sheets of plywood leaned against the pilings that elevated the structure.
I hefted the first couple and moved around to the side where Tank waited, drill in hand.
He helped me lift the first piece of wood into position over a window, then let loose a low whistle as he positioned the drill. "I got no idea what's goin' on between you two, but I'm guessin' that did not go well."
I understood how small towns worked, and given my declaration in there was gonna be all over the island in a matter of days—I was granting a little extra time on account of the fact that folks were surely busy with the incoming storm—saying nothing wasn’t an option.
Better to control the narrative while I could.
"Nope. And that's all on me."
The big man leaned around me with the drill, starting the first screw. "It's a good thing Cap doesn't know anything about this."
Cap. Captain Carrera, Gabi's brother-in-law. The man who'd probably want to feed me to the sharks if he knew I was here. The safest answer to that seemed to be a noncommittal grunt.
"What's the story with you and Gabi, anyway?"
There wasn't a chance in hell I was gonna tell this guy the full details before I could speak to her privately.
But I could set the record straight on the generalities and start laying some groundwork for damage control.
"We used to date, and I fucked it up. Made the wrong choice when it mattered. So I'm here to fix it."
"Huh." Tank processed this as we moved to the next window. "That takes some stones, I'll give you that."
We worked in silence for a few minutes, moving from one window to the next, the steady whir of the drill punctuating the growing wind. I tried not to think about what was happening inside, whether Gabi was talking about me, whether she was furious or hurt or just completely over it.
Unable to take it anymore. I looked over at Tank as he positioned another piece of plywood. "Is she dating somebody? Am I too late?"
"I haven't heard she's seein' anybody, but then again, Doc keeps her personal life pretty private. Mostly she's been working since she got back on-island, far as I know. She's been staying with Cap and her sister over at their house."
A flicker of hope lit in my chest at that.
Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe there was still a chance, assuming Tank was actually well-informed, which seemed a safe bet.
Firehouses were usually hotbeds of gossip, and from what I could tell, this was a tight-knit community where everyone knew everyone else's business.
By the time the windows were covered, the last emergency—Mr. Dees—was hobbling out with his foot properly bandaged up and his wife fussing over him. Tank and I stepped inside to find things being shut down for the day.
"God willing, that's the last patient of the day." Gabi pulled off her latex gloves. "Let's shut it down. Y'all all need to get on home or wherever you're riding out the storm. Both of you have your emergency kits to take home?"
"Yep. All set and ready to go. There's one for you, too," Justin announced, holding up a medical bag.
"Thanks. But I'll have access to everything, as I'm riding out the storm here."
"Gabi, no! That's crazy talk." Nina's voice rose with concern. "This place isn't meant for riding out a hurricane."
"After this morning's incident with Mrs. Patterson, I feel it's necessary. And it's fine. The building's solid, and this way I'll be on-hand for any emergencies that arise during or after the storm."
"Are you even prepared for that with supplies?" Nina pressed. "Food, water, a place to sleep?"
"I'll get them sorted from home tonight and finish laying things in tomorrow after we set up the community center triage station."
So now I knew where she was going to be tomorrow. I filed that detail away, my mind already working on possibilities for damage control. I needed to find some way to approach her that didn't involve making a fool of myself in front of half the island.
"Now come on." Gabi began herding all of them toward the back exit. "Y'all go. Get home to your families. This is not up for debate."
"So we're good to go ahead and cover the front door?" Tank called out.
She sent me a long look over one shoulder, her dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, I thought she might say something—anything—but she just nodded. "Yes. We'll lock it behind you." Then she turned back to herding her staff toward the exit.
Okay. I can work with this. At least she wasn't telling me to get off the island. Yet.
Jerking my head toward the front, I followed Tank outside to put the last cover in place, my mind already racing with plans for tomorrow.