Chapter 3 #2
“I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for him. Is he still struggling?”
I nodded. “Cognitively, he’s great. Just more tired than usual. The big issue is his hands.”
I looked down at my own. No rings, short nails, sturdy fingers. Doctor’s hands, my father had always said.
“Hands are a big deal to doctors,” I explained.
“Not just surgeons. They give us access to our patients, allow us to learn about them and assess symptoms. So to not have his hands…” It was unthinkable.
I studied my hands again, my throat tightening as I thought about my dad.
The larger-than-life man who’d kept an entire county healthy and never missed a piano recital or an opportunity to help me with my math homework.
Cole gave me a gentle nudge. “So you’re filling in for him?”
I nodded.
“For how long?”
“Forever. Even if he makes a full recovery, he’s in his sixties and was planning to hand the practice over to me eventually. I thought I’d have a few more years for training and for enjoying life somewhere other than Lovewell, Maine, but here I am.”
“And you’re a real doctor already?”
A hint of irritation sparked through me like it did every time someone discounted me. I’d faced this question regularly since taking over the medical practice in town.
“I’m board certified in internal medicine,” I said slowly. “And completed X and Y.”
“Sorry.” He winced. “I wasn’t trying to offend you. You’re so young.”
“I’m fully qualified. And Dr. Walters came out of retirement to help out.”
A shudder racked Cole’s body. “He’s still alive?”
“Yes,” I said. “And still as charming as ever. But he’s a damn good doctor. He’s only in three days a week, but it’s a big help to me.”
“Sounds like you have a lot on your plate. Vegas is a great place to cut loose.”
I nodded. “That was my plan. But.” I pressed my lips together, working through a way to explain my thoughts to someone like him.
“My friends…” Sighing, I shook my head. “Things are different now. Lila is off living in Boston, going to grad school, engaged and living her dreams.” I was happy for her.
She deserved it all. But all this change was unsettling.
“And Magnolia is globe-trotting. Dating someone new. Wheeling and dealing and lending me a house.”
“You feel left behind,” he said softly.
A dull pang echoed through my chest. That was exactly it.
He held my gaze for a long moment, and understanding passed between us. “Welcome to the club,” he said, lowering his head. “Want me to teach you the secret handshake?”
I smiled, grateful for the levity he’d brought to the conversation. “Is it complicated?”
“Nah. Mostly shaking your fist at the universe and moping.”
Strangely, a little bubble of joy erupted inside me. “Ooh. I’ll be great at that.”
“So,” he said, sitting back on the bench, “in celebration of your induction into the left-behind saddie club, let’s have some fun.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing in particular. But if you want to get a little wild and forget about your troubles for a day or two, Vegas is the place, and I’m an excellent wingman.”
Huh. The sensations that continued to spark inside me were damn confusing. The last person I expected to hang out with in Vegas was Cole Hebert. But he wasn’t wrong. We were the two odd men out here. We’d both been left behind by our people.
I pushed my hair behind my ears, hit by the strangest urge to open up to him. “I thought I’d have a few years in New York with my friends. We had plans. Well, I had plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“To get more training and become an awesome doctor, obviously,” I said. “But also to start living for me. Develop my friendships, find hobbies, have the kind of experiences everyone lives through in their twenties.”
“But you’re thirty.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” I glared at him, though there was no heat behind it.
He was just stating the obvious. “But I spent my twenties in med school, then completing an internship and residency. I put everything I had into my career.” My shoulders slumped at the thought.
“I’m grateful. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been counting down to the moment it would finally be my turn to get a little wild.
Make some mistakes, be silly, figure out who I am beyond medicine. ”
He nodded, his eyes softening.
Why the hell I was telling all my innermost thoughts to the hockey bro who’d screwed over my best friend was beyond me, but I felt at ease with him.
It was bizarre, really. I was not what would be considered smooth around guys, especially super-hot, massively tall, built guys like Cole. But he was strangely easy to talk to. Maybe because he was my best friend’s ex-boyfriend and firmly off limits? That had to be the reason.
“Then you have come to the right place.” He straightened, his lips tipping up on one side. “Vegas has a way of bringing out the wild. And I can help.”
Dubious, I inspected him from head to toe. Why on earth would someone like him want to hang out with someone like me? “Really? You are a Vegas expert?”
“A washed-up pro athlete with no prospects? Please, this place was made for people like me.”
I’d never seen him like this, self-deprecating and a bit silly. This man didn’t fit into the mold of the guy I’d known my whole life. The guy who’d always taken himself way too seriously and thought he was better than everyone else.
“Are you playing golf with the rest of the group tomorrow?”
“No.” I shook my head. “You?”
“Fuck no. I hate golf.”
Seriously? Could’ve fooled me. Cole’s demeanor screamed popped-collar golf bro. “You seem like a golfer.”
With one brow cocked, he put a hand to his heart.
“I take offense to that. My dad was obsessed with golf.” He wiped at the front of his shirt absently.
“And since I’ve spent my life hating him, I decided at a young age that I hated golf.
I’m sure it’s a delightful way to spend a day, but I’ve come this far. There’s no going back now.”
I laughed, again taken aback by his honesty.
“Since everyone else is playing golf tomorrow, why don’t we meet up and have some Vegas fun? We can forget about our troubles and ignore the way all our people have left us behind.”
The thought alone settled me in a way I didn’t think possible.
I should sleep, maybe get a massage and catch up on my journals.
But when he looked at me like that, his brown eyes sparkling, there was no way I could say no.
My impression of Cole Hebert—and growing up in a small town with someone made it impossible not to make and hold on to those impressions long past their usefulness—was that he was an entitled, arrogant jerk who lived a life of minimal consequences and maximum partying.
But if our conversation tonight was anything to go by, there was more to the story. And despite my better judgment, I was curious.
“Okay,” I said softly, dipping my chin. “Tomorrow.”
He rubbed his hands together, grinning. “I won’t let you down. You wanna get wild, Dr. Willa Savard?”
I laughed and nodded. “Why not?”
“Then I am the man for the job.”