Chapter 19
Liam stepped onto the elevator and pressed three.
His last week at Pine Ridge Memorial Hospital was turning out to be dialed up to eleven.
The halls hummed with the sort of fevered—pun intended—purpose that came from flu season in the ER, and a half-staffed pediatric department meant that on top of his typical workload he was getting paged every other hour to consult or cover for someone else.
He’d thought giving notice—three full months, not that he was counting—would mean a quiet fade-out, maybe even some time to catch his breath, perhaps even shadow his replacement.
Instead, it was as if the universe wanted to wring out every last ounce of professional usefulness from him before he left.
Every shift, people stopped him in the halls.
Nurses he’d worked with for years, techs he only vaguely recognized, and the custodial staff—all of them wanted a minute to wish him well or, more often, to guilt-trip him for “abandoning” them.
The running joke was that he was moving to Hope Falls in hopes of being touched by the Hope Falls Effect, which was a slogan/tourist marketing campaign and an effective—no pun intended—one at that.
He’d heard the term about a hundred times over the past few weeks.
There was even merchandise, which he knew because he’d received a t-shirt, hoodie, four mugs, and a gym bag with its definition stitched, printed, or ironed onto it as going away/good luck presents.
Before his estranged brother and father showed up, he might have thought there was something to it. That Hope Falls might have some sort of miracle powers. Now, he was sure it was a slogan to attract off-season vacationers.
All in all, most people at the hospital seemed genuinely sorry to see him go.
Sometimes well-wishers, he could tell, were hoping for an explanation, maybe some juicy scandal behind his abrupt career shift, but he gave them nothing.
Stoicism was his brand, a nod, maybe a handshake if they initiated it, and the occasional but rare smile.
He’d never been a fan of attention. Growing up, he was always more than happy to let Tristan bask in the spotlight of their parents, teachers, and strangers, for that matter.
He was not so happy about letting Tristan bask in the spot of Frankie’s fake fiancé.
She’d messaged Liam, letting him know they talked and were in a ‘good place’ now.
Tristan swore on everything that he and Emmanuelle were over.
She wasn’t sure she believed him, but they’d called a truce.
They were going to get along, keep up the ruse of their engagement, and show each other respect so they could walk away friends at the end of the week.
It all sounded very mature, but it was still making Liam want to crawl out of his skin.
The past 36 out of 48 hours he’d been on duty, and he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
He’d only been home to shower, nap, and change clothes before coming right back to the hospital in the early hours of the morning.
Besides texting Frankie, he hadn’t directly spoken to or seen anyone currently staying in his home, but their presence was evident.
Well, Cora’s presence was. His fridge was stocked, and all of his laundry was done.
He’d left her a note forbidding her from doing any more work.
The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like she was on the job while she was a guest in his home.
She wrote him a note back saying she enjoyed taking care of him and that she’d missed it.
She told him she did the same things for AJ and Niko when she visited them.
And if he didn’t believe her, he could ask them when they arrived on Saturday.
Since the wedding was so last minute, the twins were flying in day of.
Niko, who was a pitcher for the San Diego Waves, was in Boston facing the Red Sox, his final game was on Friday night.
AJ’s work was highly confidential. Liam hadn’t spoken to him in a while, not since he got back from his latest deployment.
During the dinner at Sue Ann’s, Cora mentioned that AJ couldn’t fly out early because he had several post-deployment board reviews he had to attend.
Liam noted the concern in Cora’s eyes, that, combined with AJ never mentioning anything about review boards before, made him think something may not have gone to plan with his latest deployment.
He was looking forward to being able to see him in person.
AJ was difficult enough to read when Liam could look him in the eye, trying to interpret the nuances of his tone and expression on FaceTime was nearly impossible.
The doors dinged as the elevator arrived at his floor.
Poppy texted him 911 an hour earlier. It wasn’t a real emergency; it was her code for wanting to see him immediately.
A second later another message came through that had two emojis.
A coffee cup and praying hands translated to him bringing her a coffee.
Typically, he didn’t take her dramatic java pleas or summons to see him seriously, especially when he was so busy he hadn’t eaten or sat down in over twelve hours, but he was worried about his baby sister, so he was using this as an excuse to check in on her.
After the doors opened, he exited and rounded the corner to radiology. He found Poppy perched on a stool, blowing a bubble with her gum, swinging one sneakered foot, and scrolling through her phone. She wore striped compression socks and a scrub cap covered in cartoon wombats.
“Did you bring my coffee?” she asked, without looking up from her phone.
He considered giving her a hard time and claiming not to speak emoji, but he knew that she knew he had it.
“With a side of wisdom in the form of a warning about the dangers of excessive caffeine and sugar,” he replied, dropping her preferred bottle of cold brew that was exclusively stocked in the ER staff vending machines onto the counter beside her. “You’re welcome.”
She swiveled, popped the lid off, took a swig, and then stared up at him with a smile from ear to ear. “I see you’re still in the business of saving lives.”
“What was the emergency?” he asked, referring to her 911 text.
“We need to debrief.” She patted the stool beside her.
He remained standing. “Debrief?”
“Yes, debrief.”
He wondered if she’d heard that his brother and father were in town. He didn’t know how she would have. No one in the hospital knew anything about his life. Especially his life as Liam Sterling. They knew Liam Davies. Dr. Liam Davies.
Instead of responding, he remained silent. He wasn’t about to offer up any information until he knew what she was referring to. That was a mistake people who had a problem with awkward silences made, he was not one of those people.
“The party? Frankie. First of all, everyone loved her. Like, loved her, loved her. She was a hit! It was unanimous. Even Aunt Jackie, and she doesn’t like anyone.
I’m supposed to have the inside scoop. I work with you.
I knew Frankie before you did, or I thought I knew Frankie before you did, and I don’t know any more than Phoebe, Pippa, or Lina. That is a travesty. So, spill.”
Interesting, his brothers-in-law must not have reported back to their wives if Poppy was fishing for information. That was surprising. Liam assumed that would have been the first thing they did. It made him feel an unexpected inclusion that he hadn’t realized he was missing.
“There’s nothing to know. She’s my friend.”
Poppy blew a large bubble as her eyes narrowed. She popped it, chewed it, tilted her head back, and spit it with Olympic-level accuracy. It flew through the air in a perfect arch and landed with a thud into the garbage bin in the corner of the room, which sat at least ten feet from where she sat.
“Why weren’t you at the party?” Liam asked, since she’d never returned his call, which was not like her, he still hadn’t had a chance to speak to her about it.
“I was sick,” she responded almost before he got the question out.
“With what?”
“A bug?”
“What bug?”
“Twenty-four hour. Back to Frankie.” She immediately shifted the conversation away from herself, in another un-Poppy-like chess move.
What game was she playing? He knew she was lying, but he didn’t know why she was lying.
When she came down with the common cold two years ago, and it turned into pneumonia, she texted him at least ten times every day asking if her symptoms were normal or if she was dying from “the black lung.” Every year when her seasonal allergies started to kick in, he got a call asking if a runny nose and itchy eyes were warning signs of cancer, or an autoimmune disease, or some other catastrophic condition.
His responses varied but typically ended with him diagnosing her with hypochondria.
The fact that she hadn’t messaged him at all told him she was not sick. At least not physically.
After a minute or so of him remaining silent, her eyes widened. “Are you going to make me come out and ask it?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On if you want an answer.”
“Has anyone ever told you how irritating you are?” Poppy asked as she spun herself around on the stool, then stopped herself when she was facing him once again. ”Fine, is there anything going on between you and Frankie? Romantically? I have to give the legitimates something.”
The “legitimates” were a name he and Poppy called his sisters, they also called themselves the illegitimates, which no one else in the family appreciated, but he and Poppy found hilarious and bonded over.
Knowing that his BILs hadn’t shared the information he’d told them made him feel more willing to open up and more trusting, which were not emotions he experienced often.