Chapter 9
NINE
GABI
Once everyone was gone, I attacked the supply closet like it had personally offended me, counting packages of gauze and adhesive tape with military precision. The numbers went into my spreadsheet, each click of the keyboard another barrier between me and thoughts of Daniel.
Two hundred sterile gloves. Check.
IV bags. Check.
Antibiotics inventory. Check.
A memory of his voice saying he was here for me tried to surface. I slammed the cabinet shut and moved to the next task.
The clinic’s generator needed testing. Again. I’d already checked it twice, but a third time wouldn’t hurt. The steady hum as it kicked in provided blessed white noise, drowning out the echo of his words in my head.
My phone buzzed.
Caroline
Do you need help at the clinic?
And give her an uninterrupted opportunity to try to talk me out of staying? No, thank you.
Gabi
I’ve got it handled. See you tonight.
The fewer people around right now, the better.
The equipment in each exam room needed securing. I wheeled the portable X-ray into the innermost room, farthest from the windows. The ultrasound followed. My checklist grew longer instead of shorter—each completed task spawning three more urgent needs.
Tomorrow we’d set up a triage station at the community center.
I scribbled notes about supplies to transfer: basic first aid, splints, suture kits.
I tried to focus on the list instead of memories of New Orleans.
Of lazy Sunday mornings and plans Daniel and I had made together.
Plans that implied we had a future. Of the moment he told me about the promotion that was already a done deal.
The pen pressed hard enough into the paper to leave impressions on the pages beneath.
My phone buzzed again. With a sigh, I pulled it from the pocket of my lab coat.
Hoyt
Did the Coast Guard team finish boarding up the clinic windows?
Gabi
They did.
Hoyt
Need anything else?
Gabi
No, I’m good.
Hoyt
Sure?
Gabi
Yes, Dad.
I didn’t mention that one of those Coast Guard members was my ex. My ex who was supposed to be in Seattle. Who was clearly not at the posting he’d thought so very fucking important three months ago.
My hand fisted around the pen I held. God, I wanted to call Willa. She’d know exactly what to say, how to untangle the mess of emotions churning in my stomach. Or maybe not. But she’d listen in that quiet, attentive way, and that would make me feel better. Probably.
But she and Sawyer were probably neck-deep in their own storm prep up at Sutter House on the north end of the island.
Besides, what would I even tell her? That the man who chose Seattle over me suddenly decided to transfer to the Outer Banks?
Had he transferred? Or was he somehow on loan for some weird reason?
Hell, she didn’t even know any of the details about Daniel to begin with, so I’d have to give backstory, and there was simply no time for that.
Not that I wanted to relive that backstory to begin with. It was too painful.
The wind picked up outside, rattling the newly boarded windows.
The storm was coming, whether my personal life was sorted out or not.
My phone buzzed with a weather alert. Projected landfall in less than thirty hours.
The time for personal drama had passed. And I was forced to admit that I’d done every damned thing that could be done to prepare the clinic for the storm.
All the supplies were ready for transfer to the community center.
There was nothing left to distract me here.
I didn’t want to go home to my sister. She’d lay eyes on me and know something was wrong, then she’d nag me in the most loving way possible until I spilled my guts about everything.
I wasn’t ready to spill my guts. I wasn’t sure I ever would be.
There was a reason I hadn’t told her about Daniel while we’d been together.
Caroline and Hoyt were rock solid as a couple, and she believed everyone deserved the same.
Deep down, so did I, but I knew not everyone was as lucky in finding their person as easily as the two of them had.
She’d have had Opinions I didn’t want to hear about the situationship.
And given how things had turned out, she’d have probably been right.
I didn’t want to hear that either. Or her creative notions of punishment for his putting his job ahead of me, as well intentioned as they might be.
I thought about Bree. The Brewhouse might still be open.
At least for the night. I could use a friend, and frankly, another drink.
With that in mind, I stepped out of the clinic’s back door, keys jingling as I locked up.
I wished there’d been time to replace the lock, but nothing could be done about it now.
I just had to hope that whoever had been by last night wouldn’t try again.
The evening sun peeked through the building clouds, stretching my shadow long across the quiet employee parking lot.
I took a half-dozen steps before something made the hair on my neck stand up.
My fingers tightened around my keys. I scanned the area, searching for whatever had triggered my internal alarm.
A gull wheeled overhead. Out on the street, Mr. Mills walked his ancient golden retriever.
A few cars rolled past. Nothing seemed out of place, but the sensation of being watched persisted.
Maybe it was all the blank-faced buildings, their windows covered for the coming storm.
It gave the whole area a sense of abandonment.
Vaguely apocalyptic. As if zombies or raiders were prepared to leap out of the shadows at any moment.
Foolishness. You’re just stressed over Daniel and what’s coming.
I forced myself to breathe slow and steady.
To think rationally. The lot was empty except for my car.
Another sweep of the area revealed nothing suspicious, but my skin wouldn’t stop crawling.
I picked up my pace, clicking the key fob twice to unlock the doors.
The beep seemed too loud in the quiet lot.
I slid behind the wheel and locked the doors immediately.
Through the windshield, I kept watching, but still saw nothing concrete to justify this creeping unease.
Only the wind beginning to whip the trees and the lengthening shadows of early evening.
I’d get out of here and get that drink, and then I’d relax a bit.
The Brewhouse's neon signs were dark when I arrived, and I thought I was too late.
But I spotted Bree's Jeep parked around back near the employee entrance.
Gravel crunched under my tires as I pulled up next to it.
The front door was still unlocked, and I ducked inside, grateful for the warm glow of the interior lights after the growing shadows outside.
The familiar scents of hops and wood polish enveloped me as I stepped into the main dining area.
Bree glanced up from wiping down one of the high-top tables near the windows, clearly about to announce, "We're closed," but she took one look at my face and straightened, the cleaning rag forgotten in her hands.
"You look like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong? You okay?"
"Just left the clinic." I rubbed my arms, trying to shake off the lingering unease that had followed me here. "Gave myself a serious case of the creeps walking through the empty building."
Understanding flickered across her features. "I heard about the attempted break-in from Caroline when she stopped by earlier."
Of course she had. News traveled at light speed on Hatterwick, especially when it involved potential trouble.
Abandoning her cleaning rag on the table, Bree headed behind the polished oak bar.
The distinct crack of a bottle cap being popped preceded her sliding a cold beer my way across the smooth surface.
"We're mostly shut down until after the storm passes, but we've still got plenty of bottled stock.
Sit for a bit and get your feet back under you.
No sense rushing back out into that mess. "
"Appreciate it more than you know." Now that I was here, surrounded by the warm familiarity of the Brewhouse, my case of the willies seemed completely stupid.
But that paranoid feeling at the clinic wasn't why I'd come to begin with.
I sank down into one of the cushioned chairs at a corner table and took a long pull on the bottle, letting the crisp beer settle my nerves.
"So you know that situationship I mentioned yesterday? "
Bree's eyes sharpened with interest as she settled onto the stool beside me and propped her chin on her hand. "Yeah. What about him? Did something else happen?"
I took another long pull on my beer, buying myself a moment to figure out how to explain this disaster. "He's here."
Bree blinked, her eyebrows shooting up toward her hairline. "Here? On Hatterwick? Right now? Why the hell would he be here?"
"Coast Guard hurricane preparation and emergency response." I began to pick at the damp label on my bottle, peeling off small strips. "And apparently..." The words stuck in my throat for a moment. "He claims he's here for me."
She leaned forward on her elbows, her expression shifting from surprise to something approaching outrage. "Tell me everything. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."
So I did. As briefly as possible while still hitting the important points, I explained Seattle.
The job offer that had seemed like everything he'd ever wanted.
The promotion that had come with a cross-country move.
The way he'd made his choice without consulting me, then seemed genuinely shocked when I couldn't just pick up and follow him across the country.
The end of things that had felt more like a whimper than the dramatic conclusion our relationship probably deserved.
By the time I finished, her face had darkened considerably, a storm brewing in her eyes that rivaled the one heading our way.
"The absolute audacity of that man! He chose Seattle over you.
He chose his career advancement over your relationship.
He doesn't get to just show up months later, in the middle of a hurricane no less, and claim he's here for you like some kind of romantic gesture. "
Her instant feminine outrage was exactly what I needed.
Some of the disquiet that had been churning in my stomach since Daniel's unexpected appearance finally settled.
"That's exactly what I thought when he cornered me at the clinic.
" I traced random patterns in the condensation gathering on my bottle.
"I'm just going to ignore him until the storm passes and he gets reassigned somewhere else. "
"On this tiny island?" Bree snorted, shaking her head. "During a hurricane evacuation and emergency response? Good luck with that plan, girl."
I shrugged, trying for nonchalance I didn't feel. "It's going to be complete chaos. Everyone running around preparing for landfall, setting up the community center as a shelter, coordinating storm response teams. How hard can it really be to avoid one Coast Guard petty officer?"
"Gabi." Her raised eyebrows suggested I was being deliberately obtuse. "You're the only doctor on this island. He's Coast Guard emergency response. You really think there's any universe where you won't end up working together before all this is over?"
The truth of that statement hit me like an icy wave.
Of course we'd end up working together. Medical emergencies didn't pause for personal drama, and hurricane response required all hands on deck.
"I think we're both going to be too damned busy dealing with the immediate aftermath of this storm to worry about anything else.
" Not that I was actively wishing disaster on my island, but facts were facts.
Bree pushed back from the table and crossed back to the bar, grabbing a beer for herself. "Look, I get it. The last thing you want is to deal with relationship drama when you're trying to save lives and keep people safe. But you can't just keep avoiding him indefinitely."
I gave her the side eye, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "I don't know about that. You've been doing a pretty admirable job avoiding Ford for the past decade or so."
She had the grace to wince at that observation.
"Touché. But the fact that he's been deployed on the other side of the world for most of that time definitely helps with the avoidance strategy.
" She took a sip of her beer before continuing.
"I'm just saying, it seems like you're gonna have to face him, eventually.
If for no other reason than to get a little bit of closure on whatever you two had.
A guy doesn't show up making grand declarations like 'I'm here for you' and then let a little thing like a Category 3 hurricane get in his way.
Even if he has to wait until cleanup and recovery operations are finished, I somehow doubt he's going to just quietly leave the island without at least trying to talk to you again. "
The thought of having that conversation—really talking through what had happened between us, what had gone wrong, whether there was anything salvageable—made my stomach clench with anxiety.
Could I handle a civil conversation to get some kind of closure on our relationship?
Could I trust myself not to either completely fall apart or say something I'd regret?
Honestly, I had no idea.
"I really like my avoidance plan better," I said, taking another long drink.
Bree arched a brow and smirked, the expression highlighting the mischievous streak I'd always admired in her. "Good luck with that, Dr. Carrera."