9. Gabi
NINE
GABI
Once everyone had 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 the 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 very 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 she had, 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 I had my personal life 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 had 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 take one look at 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. 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 feeling 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 feel better.
The Brewhouse’s neon signs were dark when I arrived, and I thought I was too late. But I spotted Bree’s car parked around back. Gravel crunched under my tires as I pulled up next to it. The front door was still unlocked, and I ducked inside.
She glanced up from wiping down tables, clearly about to announce, “We’re closed,” but she took one look at my face and straightened. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You okay?”
“Just left the clinic. Gave myself a case of the creeps.”
“I heard about the attempted break in.”
Of course she had.
Abandoning her cleaning rag, Bree headed behind the bar. The distinct crack of a bottle cap preceded her sliding a beer my way. “We’re mostly shut down until after the storm, but we’ve still got bottled. Sit a bit and get your feet back under you.”
“Appreciate it.” Now that I was here, my case of the willies seemed stupid. But that wasn’t why I’d come to begin with. I sank down into a chair and took a long pull on the bottle.“So you know that situationship I mentioned yesterday?”
“The one that you thought was a real relationship until something went sideways?”
“That’d be the one.” As briefly as possible, I explained Seattle. The promotion. The end of things.
By the end, she’d sat down herself at the table I occupied.“Okay… what about him?”
I took another long pull on my beer. “He’s here.”
Bree blinked. “Here? On Hatterwick? Why?”
“Coast Guard hurricane prep. And apparently...” I began to pick at the label on my bottle. “He’s here for me.”
She leaned forward on her elbows. “Tell me everything.”
So I did. Once I’d finished, her face darkened.
“The audacity. He chose Seattle over you. He doesn’t get to just show up months later and claim he’s here for you.”
Her instant feminine outrage was exactly what I needed. Some of the disquiet settled. “That’s what I thought.” I traced patterns in the condensation on my bottle. “I’m just going to ignore him until he leaves.”
“On this tiny island?” Bree snorted. “During a hurricane? Good luck with that plan.”
“It’s going to be chaos. Everyone running around preparing. The community center setup. Storm response. How hard can it be?”
“Gabi.” She fixed me with a look. “You’re the only doctor on the island. He’s Coast Guard. You really think you won’t end up working together before all this is over?”
“I think we’re both going to be too damned busy dealing with the aftermath of this storm to worry about anything else.” Not that I was wishing disaster on my island but facts were facts.
Bree crossed back to the bar and grabbed another beer for herself. “Look, I get it. But you can’t just keep avoiding him.”
I gave her the side eye. “I don’t know. You’ve been doing a pretty admirable job avoiding Ford for the past decade or so.”
“The fact that he’s been deployed on the other side of the world for most of it helps. I’m just saying, it seems like you’re gonna have to face him, eventually. If for no other reason than for a little bit of closure. A guy doesn’t show up making claims like ‘I’m here for you,’ and then let a little thing like a hurricane get in his way. Even if he has to wait until cleanup is over, I somehow doubt he’s going to just leave without at least talking to you again.”
Could I handle that? A civil conversation to get some kind of closure on our relationship?
I had no idea.
“I really like my plan better.”
Bree arched a brow and smirked. “Good luck with that.”