Chapter 21 Maisey
MAISEY
“Does that say I want to fuck?”
Errrrr….what?!
I whip around, Sawyer’s voice carrying through the entire great room of Dolly and Hux’s new home.
The little white house—picked out from a stack of house plans that Dolly had saved over the years and then built to satisfy her every whim—is a sea of half unpacked boxes, packing material, and who knows what else.
I don’t know how she’s ever going to find anything in this mess, or get it all organized and put away, but she swears she has a system.
Something I’m just going to trust her on.
“Sure does!” Dolly confirms, beaming proudly. “Hux carried that around in his wallet for, like, years, trying to figure out a way to use it to ask me out.”
Holding it up like an item on The Price is Right, Dolly shows off the wooden sign, the words burned into it. My eyes scan across it, laughter bubbling up inside with each new line.
I want to FUCK
Find ways to make you smile
Understand and support you
Cuddle you up and hold you close
Kinda also really want to fuck you too
“I think it’s cute,” Brenna says, peering around a box she’s unpacking on the floor behind the couch.
“I’m still impressed Hux came up with that,” Emily adds from the kitchen. “I mean, he’s better than Grumpy Gus or Ewan’s silence, but still. Not the vibe that the tats and ear gauges give off.”
“Hey!” Margeaux and I call out in unison, defending our men.
Emily shrugs. “I said what I said.”
“Gus is intense, not grumpy,” Margeaux corrects, waggling her eyebrows. We all laugh, equally loving watching her blush at the mere thought of Gus’s intensity, and the awkwardness of that too-much-information reveal.
“I’m still not entirely convinced he didn’t get Jace’s help, even though he claims he came up with it all on his own,” Dolly says.
“I believe it,” Sawyer says, tying up a trash bag full of packing paper. “I stumbled across some of the suggestions Jace made for Anton’s letter to me after our fight, and well…they were a little over-the-top. He really takes that whole I read romance novels so I’m an expert thing seriously.”
I bite my tongue, trying to hold back a laugh at Sawyer’s Jace impression. Easier said than done, because she is spot-on. She might be the newest member of this family, but it’s clear that she slipped in seamlessly.
Wait, no. She’s not the newest. I am.
I step back from the box I just cut open and take a look around the large, open concept space.
The beautiful kitchen with all the bells and whistles Dolly could ever want, including her massive walk-in pantry and an island with a built-in range, gives way to a bright living room with large windows that overlook a beautiful open meadow leading to a creek on the Hayes property.
Around the corner is an office and a set of stairs that leads to bedrooms and a loft that will undoubtedly be a playroom soon enough.
Right now, the house is filled with us girls—Dolly, Brenna, Margeaux, Sawyer, Emily, and me, with Alice and Rose on the way at some point—waist deep in an unpacking party. Something all of us were more than happy to agree to. Because it’s about spending time together, as a family.
Three of us actually related by blood.
Five us by something stronger than Gorilla Glue.
Family, nonetheless.
One that I get to be a part of.
“Something the matter?” Brenna asks, looking at me like she can’t tell if I saw a ghost or I need a drink.
“Emily’s comment got her thinking about Ewan,” Sawyer comments. “I mean, the whole I like my mouth on a big rod thing came from somewhere, right?”
I gasp, amazed that serious, no-nonsense Dr. Sawyer Brown just said that.
Of all the people, I was not expecting that from her.
Had it been Brenna, well, I don’t know that I would have thought twice.
She’s proven more than once since I moved home that she’s not the sweet and innocent tween that she was when I left for college—Cummins Cider, anyone?
But Sawyer? No. She’s the grounding force to Anton and all his antics.
Maybe he’s rubbing off on her…
The rest of the group burst into laughter, so loud and unsynchronized, bouncing off the bare walls and echoing through the room.
The sound reverberates through me, surrounding me, tackling me like a linebacker in the championship game with everything on the line.
Giving in, I let it all out, a roar escaping, until I can’t breathe I’m laughing so hard.
“It’s I like a big mouth on my rod,” I correct her, trying to catch my breath.
“Eh, I think my version works just as well.”
Her perfectly straight face makes me lose it all over again. Holy shit, I think I just fell in love with Sawyer.
“How do we get that shirt made?” Margeaux asks, still laughing.
“Right, because you, Little Miss I’m Going to Take Over the World is going to wear that on a T-shirt?” Dolly teases.
“I'd wear it around the house…for Gus,” Margeaux tosses back.
“Ew, no. I don’t want to know about what you wear for Gus.” Emily sneers. “He’s my older brother’s best friend. There's a line and that’s it.”
We all burst into laughter again. If this keeps up, my sides may actually split open.
“Seriously, though,” Brenna chimes in. “I think it would be funny. Can you just imagine the boys’ faces if all us wives showed up to Sunday dinner wearing that?”
Just one problem there, Brenna…
“Not all of us are wives,” I point out.
To be fair, Brenna and Margeaux aren’t married yet. But they will be soon enough. There are rings on their fingers. Dates are set. As far as anyone is concerned, they are Hayes women in all but actual on paper legal status. Sawyer and I, however…
“Yet,” Dolly quips. “Sawyer just caught the bouquet, and do not for one second pretend like you’re not halfway to negotiating a baby name list.”
I purse my lips. She’s got me there. Actually, there’s no negotiating that. The list is set. Ewan might get a veto or two if he can provide a valid argument, but the list is made. To be fair, though, I think he’ll be in agreement with me, since it does feature plenty of Hayes family names.
“Wait, you’re going to allow negotiations on that?” Brenna asks, genuinely curious.
“No,” Dolly, Margeaux, and I answer in unison, then burst into laughter again.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, interrupting the moment. I pull it out, ready to dismiss the call, enjoying my time with the girls too much, when the number catches my eye. InterCon MediTrust. My employer.
My pulse jumps, a lump forming in my throat. This can’t be good.
“I need to take this,” I say to no one in particular, eyes still glued to the number flashing on my phone.
Stepping away, I walk around the corner into the entryway of the house, giving myself some room to be able to hear.
“Hello?”
“Maisey? It’s Cathy Marshall from InterCon MediTrust. How are you?”
“Hey, Cathy.”
My insides relax, my muscles unclenching as a mini wave of relief hits.
Of all the contract coordinators at InterCon MediTrust, Cathy is one of my favorites.
Always so easy to work with, understanding that we are actually humans that have needs rather than robots.
She also isn’t so hard and fast with all the rules, keeping us boxed in with the red tape like some of the others that I’ve worked with over the years.
Even when delivering the bad news about our contracts being cut short, she was patient and understanding with us—just as frustrated as we were about the whole situation—and worked to make sure that those of us affected were taken care of.
Truth be told, if she had any interest in practicing medicine, she’d make a damn good nurse.
“I’m good. Really good, actually.” I smile, letting my happiness flow through me and into my response.
“You sound it. Seems like this extended break has been good to you.”
“Extremely.” Looking over at the girls—my sisters—my heart fills again. This extended break, as Cathy called it, has been exactly what I needed.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it, especially after how Nicaragua ended.”
The mention of Nicaragua feels like it should be painful. Like it should be accompanied by a sharp pang, or a twinge, something to make me wince or recoil. Instead, there’s nothing.
Yes, it sucks that it all went down the way it did, but I had no control over the hospital opting to cancel the contracts, resulting in the termination of me and several colleagues, so dwelling on it isn’t going to get me anywhere.
Plus, it was what I needed to pull the trigger on the ketchup pact.
Something I likely would have left undone had my employment remained intact.
Pretty sure Garth Brooks has a song about this, the little blessings in disguise—or maybe his was about unanswered prayers—but either way, that’s exactly what this was. A blessing in disguise.
“Thanks. I assume you’re calling about my email?” I ask, not wanting to linger on the topic of my last assignment.
“Partially,” she responds, hesitancy laced into her voice.
“Is something wrong? Did I miss something?”
“No, no. We got your request for an early opt-out of your employment, and everything is in order. And since you were part of the whole deal in Nicaragua, the agency has automatically approved it.”
Oh, that’s good. That makes that easy then. So why the call?
“Buuuut…”
No, no buts…
My stomach clenches. Cathy just said that they had my paperwork. That it was automatically approved. So why a but? Buts are bad. So, so bad.
“You were already on my list of people to call. I was just trying to get my ducks in a row. And I still can’t promise that they’re in a row, or that one isn’t actually a pigeon.
” She laughs at her own joke and I smile despite the internal panic trying to crawl through my skin.
Because I understand that feeling all too well.
“And then I looked at your file and I saw your request, and well, I figured I needed to get my butt in gear and call.”
“Okay. Is there an issue?”
“Oh, no. Exact opposite. There’s an opening…in one of your requested countries. So, I’m calling to see how serious you are about that opt-out.”
Oh, well then.
“Very, Cathy.” That answer is easy. “I know it might sound crazy, but these last few weeks have made me reconsider a lot of things, and while I’ve loved working with y’all and all of the incredible experiences that I’ve had everywhere I’ve been, it’s time to stay put.
I’m in the process of applying to a hospital here locally in Georgia, which is why I asked for the opt-out, so—”
“It’s Reykjavík,” she cuts me off.
Reykjavík? As in Iceland? My stomach flips, the air in my lungs failing to move, the news hitting me hard and fast. There’s an opening in Reykjavík. Holy shit.
The one place I never made it to. At least not professionally.
I got to visit once, while I was posted to Austria, but only for a quick weekend getaway, instantly falling in love.
I put it on top of my requested locations before we’d even left, hoping that something—anything—would come up.
But the need never arose. So I kept going elsewhere.
Until now.
“Maisey, you still there?”
“Yeah, sorry, Cathy.” I shake my head, trying to clear my jumbled-up thoughts. “Reykjavík. Wow…I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Does that change things?”
Does that change things? Good question…
I told Ewan that I was done traveling. That he was my future, and that Hickory Hills is our home. All the dreams we’ve talked about and plans we’ve started making—I can’t go back on those. I don’t want to. I meant them. He is my future. This is my home.
But Reykjavík would be a dream come true.
Fuck…
“It…ye…I don’t know.” I sigh, closing my eyes and wishing that I wasn’t thinking about this. “Maybe.”
“I thought it might.”
“Cathy, I have things in motion here. And…and this is no longer just my decision. I can’t give you an answer right now. I need some time to think.”
“I get it.” As always, her voice is full of understanding.
Whether or not she actually gets me and my sudden onset of an internal struggle, who knows.
But she can fake it like the best of them.
“Contract has an October one start date, but I will need an answer by the twenty-first so we can start the paperwork.”
The twenty-first. A week from today. Doesn’t give me very long, but then again, how much do I really need? A conversation with Ewan, and…oh, who am I kidding, a week is nothing. Especially since we have my grandmother’s birthday party this weekend.
“Yeah, fine,” I tell her. “I’ll have an answer to you by the twenty-first.”
“Sounds good. I’ll email over some of the particulars about this hospital to help you make more of an informed decision. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.”
“I won’t. Thanks, Cathy.”
Ending the call, I slide my phone back into my pocket, inhaling deeply. Reykjavík. Holy shit.
Six weeks ago I would have been ecstatic to get this call. I wouldn’t have had to tell Cathy that I needed to think about it or drag out my answer in any way. I’d have been doing my happy dance long before we got off the phone. My bags would be halfway packed by now.
Instead, I’m standing here, a wild mix of emotions too big to name, unsure of everything. Every last thing. Because six minutes ago I thought I had a new plan. I thought I had it all figured it.
Now the only thing I have is a tailspin.
“Maisey, you okay?” Sawyer asks, stopping in front of me as she makes her way to the front door with a trash bag.
I look at her, blinking hard, trying to focus on her question, but I can’t. I don’t know how to answer that question. My entire world has been turned upside down all over again—for the second time in a matter of weeks. Fuck me.
I need to talk to Ewan…
“Maisey…” Sawyer repeats, dropping the bag and stepping into me. Placing her hands on my biceps, she gives them a squeeze, pulling me back into the moment. “What’s going on?”
“I…” I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow hard, trying to clear the wad of cotton from my throat.
I need to talk to Ewan…
“Heeeey!” Alice calls out, throwing the front door open, her hands full of white, branded, Oh, My Lard! boxes. “I brought pie!”
Good, I’m gonna need it…