Chapter 9
It was Saturday night, and Gabe convinced me to come out with him.
We met up with Wes, Lucas, and Callie at The Sandbar for their usual Saturday night out—Morgan was a no-show, which seemed to get under Wes’s skin.
I was sitting directly across from Wes, and it was making my encounter with his sister replay in my head once again.
It’d been just over a week since that night. I kept trying to reassure myself that Haley was right—there was alcohol involved, I didn’t recognize her, and it was a meaningless, one-time mistake that didn’t mean anything, so it shouldn’t matter.
Still, every time I replayed it in my head, I felt a twist of anxiety. I knew none of that would matter to Wes, and that thought overshadowed all of Haley’s logic. Even so, I had promised her I wouldn’t say anything, so I kept my mouth shut.
Susan was standing at the table, talking to Lucas and Callie about their upcoming wedding. “What color are the bridesmaids’ dresses again?”
“It’s called misty blue,” Callie answered.
“It’s just blue,” Wes quipped, earning a snort from Gabe and Lucas.
Callie chuckled. “If our resident color expert, Morgan, were here, she would tell you that it’s not ‘just blue.’”
“Well, she’s not here, is she?” Wes said, almost bitterly. He tried to mask it with a smirk, but I think everyone at the table caught it, just as I did.
Trying to change the subject, Lucas cleared his throat, looking at Wes. “Hey, I thought Haley was coming tonight?”
At the mention of her name, I choked on my drink, setting my beer down a little harder than intended as I began to cough. She was coming tonight? Fuck.
“Whoa, you okay there, buddy?” Gabe asked, chuckling as he clapped my back.
“Wrong…pipe,” I choked out between coughs.
Wes laughed before looking back at Lucas. “She was going to, but she got called into work.”
Oh, thank God. It was already hard enough to sit there with Wes. Having Haley show up would’ve made keeping up the charade impossible.
This was proving to be much harder than I’d thought it would be.
Technically, it wasn’t Wes’s business what happened between me and Haley.
We were both consenting adults. But Wes was my best friend, and Haley was his younger sister.
And that made me feel like a fucking asshole, no matter how I tried to rationalize it.
Part of me almost wanted Wes to find out, just to relieve the pressure of keeping it secret—I’d already told Haley I couldn’t bring myself to lie to him if he asked.
On the other hand, maybe I was just overthinking everything.
The shock of learning who Haley was still hadn’t worn off.
Maybe once it did, the guilt would fade too, even if only a little.
Over the next couple of weeks, whenever I was around Wes, I caught myself doing that guilty thing—avoiding eye contact, fidgeting, anything to keep him from suspecting me of something.
But Wes didn’t seem to notice. I figured he chalked it up to the other stuff I was dealing with, so he didn’t push.
As far as what else I was dealing with, there wasn’t much change.
I was still doing therapy twice a week, but I still had these walls up, ones I wasn’t sure would ever come down.
I’d never been one who particularly liked the idea of opening up about things, but then again, I never had much I felt I needed to open up about.
Nothing like what I was going through now.
Nate, my therapist, reminded me every session that his job wasn’t to judge but to help me process what happened and change any unhelpful thoughts and feelings I had associated with it. When he said that to me during my first session with him, I was so uncomfortable that I almost walked out.
I stuck it out, but nothing was changing. According to him, that was because I was punishing myself. I was holding onto the guilt because I felt like I deserved it. He wasn’t wrong. And I didn’t know how not to feel that way. I was trying…but at the same time, I wasn’t.
At my parents’ house, I was becoming increasingly restless. I had too much damn time to myself. Too much time to think. Too much time to remember.
Other than going on runs and to the gym, I sat at home most days during the week, feeling like I was doing nothing with my life.
Meanwhile, my mom hovered and asked me about twenty times a day how I was doing.
At one point, my dad offered to build a home gym in the basement—he loved working with his hands and enjoyed building and fixing things.
I politely declined. I needed to be able to leave the house and go somewhere to be alone.
It was a Wednesday evening, and I ran along the pathway of Cliffside Park.
My feet thudded against the pavement as I dodged walkers, sweat beading on my brow.
After an hour, I finally slowed near the edge of the small cliff the park was named for.
Resting my hands on my hips, I caught my breath, watching the golden rays from the setting sun kiss the top of the water below as boats sailed past the cove, headed toward the marina.
My phone buzzed against my bicep in the arm band I had on, and I reached over, pulling it out. When I glanced at the screen, I saw a notification for a job listing from one of the recruiting platforms that I may or may not have signed up for a couple of weeks ago, when I couldn’t sleep.
One new job listing matches your criteria:
Emergency Medicine Physician - Bayport General Hospital.
I clicked the notification, and it brought me right to the listing: Level II trauma center. Teaching hospital. Full-time. Day shift, 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.
It was perfect, and it was here. I wouldn’t need to take the ferry from Bayport into Charleston—Bayport Cove was one of five towns on Halloran Island, which was located off South Carolina’s southern coast, and only accessible by boat, so I wouldn’t have to accommodate extra travel time.
It was a day shift position, which I preferred.
I did night shifts during my residency, and I fucking hated them.
Slipping my phone back into my arm band, I turned toward the path again and began jogging back to the parking lot.
Was I actually ready to go back to work? Would it help distract me or make things worse?
I talked to Nate about possibly going back to work during my last session.
He said it was something I had to decide for myself.
I hadn’t spoken to anyone else about it.
I had a feeling my parents would tell me to take more time.
At the same time, they weren’t aware of how stir crazy sitting at home was making me, or how often I drowned in my thoughts with all the downtime.
Plus, Nate was right. I had to make the decision on my own.
I didn’t have to think much about it. The opportunity just felt too good to pass up.
When I got home from my run, I applied.
Things were moving fast.
I had an interview with the emergency room medical director a week after applying for the position, which I thought went well. She told me there were a few more candidates to be interviewed, and in the meantime, they’d be verifying all of my credentials and information.
I didn’t say a word to anyone about it. I didn’t want to, not unless I got the job and was given a formal offer. I didn’t want anyone to try to talk me out of it if they didn’t think going back to work was a good idea.
It was my decision.
While I waited for news, I focused on celebrating Lucas’s and Callie’s upcoming wedding.
We all went to Monaco for their joint bachelor and bachelorette parties.
The guys did their own thing for a few days, the girls did theirs, and we all met up on our last night.
As one of Callie’s bridesmaids, Haley was there, but our interaction on that one night we were all together consisted of nothing more than a passing glance.
The trip proved beneficial to Wes and Morgan, however, who were now officially a couple.
I never thought I’d see the day when Wes “I don’t do relationships” Callahan would proudly admit to being head over heels in love and absolutely whipped for a woman he once claimed to hate.
Stranger things had happened, I supposed.
And a few days after we returned from Monaco, I received a call with a formal offer of employment.
I told my parents that same night, along with my brother, who’d happened to be there for dinner. I could see the surprise on their faces, but much to my surprise, they didn’t question me about it, even if I knew they wanted to.
I also dropped the bomb on them that night that I’d be looking for my own place.
Was I moving a little too quickly? Maybe. But with me going back to work, I felt like I needed my own space. I wanted it. I had a month before I started at the hospital, and my goal was to at least be under contract by then.
With my credit, established finances, and now the job lined up, I was preapproved for a loan.
That would make the process go even faster once I found a place.
Morgan’s mom was a realtor, one with experience with quick closings, so she put me in touch with her to get started.
I gave her my price range and a list of things I was looking for in a potential home, and she didn’t waste a second getting to work.
I’d already been shown five houses.
I was currently standing beside my brother inside the kitchen of a three-bedroom Cape Cod—house number six—not too far from Gabe’s place. My parents were there, walking around the outside of the property.
“Well?” Morgan’s mom smiled as she entered the kitchen. “What do you think?”
I nodded as I looked around. “It’s nice.”
“But it’s not home,” she said with understanding in her voice.
I offered a rueful smile. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“That’s alright.” She patted my arm. “We have one more place to look at today, and if that doesn’t pan out, we’ll keep looking. Let me make a call and make sure everything is set at the other home before we head over there.”
I nodded, and she stepped out. “It’s not that bad,” Gabe said as he glanced around.
“No, it’s not at all. It just…doesn’t scream home, ya know? And I’m not too keen on the location.”
“No, I get it. I was the same way.” He chuckled. “I think I looked at about fifteen houses before I found mine.” I smiled, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms while we waited. “You, uh…are you sure about this?”
There it was.
I looked at Gabe and nodded. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “With the new job and now looking for a house, I just don’t want you to overwhelm yourself with too much at once.”
“Gabe, I’ve been home for nearly four months. I’m still going to therapy and working things out, but I feel ready to go back to work. To do something with myself other than sit around on my goddamn ass all day.”
“No one thinks you’re just sitting around on your ass, Blake. You’re taking time for yourself. There’s a difference.”
“Okay, well, I took the time.” I let out a breath, feeling frustrated. “Going back to work is a good thing for me. Getting my own place is a good thing. I appreciate your concern, really, but I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.”
I didn’t know who I was trying to convince more…him or myself.