Chapter 13
After another shift at the hospital, I pulled into my driveway and shut my car off before leaning back against my seat.
My eyes drifted to the ridiculous duck on my dashboard that Haley had given me. I didn’t get the appeal of collecting rubber ducks for the window, but one I could tolerate.
I’d worked with her nearly every shift since that first one two weeks ago.
I could see why the other doctors wanted to keep her around, why her fellow nurses were glad she was staying, even if it would be in a different role.
She was damn good at her job, and you could tell she loved what she did.
No one who worked there had a bad thing to say about her.
As for what happened between us, I was able to push it to the back of my mind, only because she made it easy to do so.
She didn’t bring it up, and despite a part of me half-expecting her to be, she wasn’t awkward around me because of it.
I think her lack of remorse and the way she didn’t act differently toward me simply because we slept together on an impulsive, drunken whim eased some of the weight of that guilt I had felt. It made it easier to brush aside.
Like she said that day: it was a one-time thing that didn’t mean anything.
I finally let out a breath, grabbed my small duffle bag I carried for work, and got out of my car, locking it before I headed down the walkway to my front door.
Two weeks back on the floor in the emergency room had kicked my ass.
I was tired. But I didn’t deem it a bad thing because maybe, if I were exhausted enough, I would sleep better than I had been.
I’d been sitting in my car because I was stalling going inside.
Because I knew what I would be met with when I did.
Nothing.
I hadn’t thought this entirely through.
I didn’t necessarily regret getting the house—I was glad to have my own space to come home to—but I never considered how damn quiet it would be.
As I settled in, I realized I’d overlooked how constant silence might affect me.
I’d been more focused on proving to everyone—especially myself—that I was in a good enough headspace.
Now, in the quiet, the confidence I felt was starting to crack.
I wasn’t so sure of myself now. The doubt lingered, gnawing at me in the quiet, turning certainty into something jagged. If I were honest, it was fucking with me more than I cared to admit.
When I shut the front door behind me, it echoed, and I let out a long breath. I dropped my bag in its usual spot near the door and kicked off my shoes before heading to my room to shower.
Fifteen minutes later, I was back in the kitchen, cooking chopped broccoli, yellow peppers, red peppers, and carrots in a pan before adding the chicken I had already cooked back in.
I poured a sauce I had made with broth, soy sauce, honey, toasted sesame oil, and red pepper flakes over it, mixing it and bringing it to a boil before removing it from the stove.
I plated some of the homemade stir-fry and put the rest in a container for work tomorrow. Then I stepped onto my deck and sat at the patio table, watching the sunset. A few boats sailed by—probably headed to the marina—and as I watched them, my mind blurred.
“When we get to go home—not back to base home, but home, home—you know what we’re gonna do, Pierson?”
“What’s that?” I asked, entertaining Noah’s question as we stepped out of our barracks.
“You’re gonna take your ass on your fancy little ferry boat from Bayport and come into Charleston, and we’re gonna charter one of those boats for some deep-sea fishing.”
“That right?” I chuckled.
Noah nodded with a grin. “That’s right. We’ll be the Goose and Maverick of the sea for a day.” I snorted, shaking my head at the stupid reference to his favorite movie. “You ever been?”
“A few times with my dad and brother, but not since I was a teenager.”
“I went once with my uncle. I was eight? Nine, maybe? I wanna go again.”
“Okay,” I agreed with a nod. “When we get back, we’ll do it. Maybe my buddies from back home will come, too. And my brother.”
“I’m game. I gotta meet these guys. They sound right up my alley.”
I shook off the memory and stood, heading inside and shutting the door a bit harder than intended. Noah and I never went deep-sea fishing, and he never met Gabe, Lucas, or Wes.
Because he never made it home.
No, thinking of Noah was nothing new, but in this house, surrounded by silence, the memories didn’t fade—they crowded in constantly. Each quiet moment brought him back, turning the peacefulness I had hoped for into something I dreaded. That was precisely why I hated the fucking quiet.
A few days later, I was sitting across from Nate during my therapy session, talking about work and how I was doing.
“It’s been a couple of weeks now. Do you feel like you’re adjusting well to being back to work?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “I haven’t had any episodes at work like I did before I came home, if that’s what you mean.”
“No. I mean, that’s good you haven’t had any episodes. I just meant stress-wise. That’s a high-stress environment, so I meant it more as in how you’re handling that part of it.”
“Is it strange to say that I welcome it?”
“No,” he replied with a chuckle.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess with keeping myself busy for twelve hours when I’m there, I’m not so in my head.”
Nate nodded. “And what about when you’re not there?”
I dropped his gaze, debating what to say, how much to say. But my hesitation was answer enough.
“Are you feeling overwhelmed at home?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I’d call it overwhelmed,” I said, searching for the right word while the silence stretched between us.
“It’s just…so damn quiet because it’s just me.
Not that it wasn’t quiet at my parents’ place, but there the quiet feels heavy.
Like my thoughts are crowding me. It’s suffocating at times. ”
Nate nodded in what looked like understanding. “Well…you moved into a new home. It’s a change in environment, new surroundings, a disruption in what became your routine. The stress of such a big change can exacerbate what you were already going through.”
“Great,” I huffed. “So, I did this to myself.”
By trying to prove that I was better than I was.
He smiled ruefully. “You just have to figure out some ways to work through the quiet and reduce the noise in your head.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that? It’s quiet because I’m there alone. And don’t suggest I get a roommate or anything like that because that’s not happening.”
“No roommate,” Nate said with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He was quiet for a moment. “Actually…how do you feel about pets?”
My brow furrowed. “Pets?”
“More specifically, a dog?”
“I don’t mind dogs.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard that dogs are known to be helpful with people with PTSD.
Studies even show they can reduce the severity of symptoms. They’re great for companionship, obviously, if you’re willing to give it back to them in return.
Not saying you should get one, but it’s certainly something to consider if you want. ”
I hadn’t had a dog since I was fifteen—we had a cocker spaniel named Buddy when I was growing up, but after he passed, my parents never got another one.
I wasn’t entirely against the idea of having one, especially if it might help.
I spent the next week going back and forth with myself about a dog, weighing the potential pros and cons. The more I thought about it and the more time I spent in that quiet house, the more appealing the idea became.
So, I filled out an application with the local rescue and made an appointment to look at some to see if any felt right for me.
It was the Friday of my weekend off, and I opened the door to the Bayport Animal Rescue, glancing around as I made my way to the reception desk.
“Hi,” the woman sitting there greeted me with a smile. “How can I help you?”
“Hello.” I nodded. “I have an appointment to meet some of your dogs. Name is Blake Pierson.”
“Oh, yes.” She smiled as she stood. “We have your application right here, and Jake has been expecting you. I’ll go let him know you’re here.”
She disappeared around the corner. While I waited, I could hear a few muffled barks, and I felt almost hopeful, though I wasn’t sure why.
A few minutes later, a man walked around the corner, smiling as he approached me. “Blake?” I nodded, and he extended his hand for me to shake. “Jake. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
He gestured with his head toward a door. “You can follow me.”
I trailed behind him through a glass door and down a hallway before turning and stopping outside another door that opened into a fenced-in outdoor area, where several dogs of various breeds were running around.
I felt my lips twitch in a smile as I looked at them through the glass.
“So, what made you look into adopting?”
I looked over at him. “Oh, uh…I just got my own house. It’s just me. Looking for some company, I guess.” I didn’t feel like getting into any more detail than that.
The man nodded. “Well, feel free to interact with any of them. And if you have any questions about them, I’ll be right here.”
I nodded, and he pushed open the door, allowing me to step out first.
As soon as our presence was noticed, a few of the dogs came running over, tails wagging. I reached down, letting them sniff my hand before petting a couple.
A boxer/bulldog mix came trotting toward me, his butt shaking in excitement as I reached down to pet him.
I crouched down, watching as the dogs ran around, petting a few more that approached me, waiting for that potential “you’ll know” moment with one of them.
The door behind me opened, and a blur of gold flew by before skidding to a halt and turning to look at me. I held the golden retriever’s stare for a moment…and then he crouched down, playfully sprang back up, juked left, right, then crouched down again, his butt in the air as his tail wagged.
When I laughed, his ears perked up before he stood straight and walked over to sit directly in front of me. “Hey, buddy,” I said, holding out my hand so he could sniff it—he went straight to licking it without a second of hesitation.
“He’s only been here a couple of weeks,” Jake said as he approached.
“What’s his story?”
“His owners were moving across the country and just dropped him off. Said they couldn’t take him with them.” That pissed me the fuck off on the dog’s behalf. “He’s a little over one, completely housebroken, listens really well, and has quite the personality,” he said with a chuckle.
I smiled, scratching the dog behind his ear, and I swore the damn thing smiled. “He got a name?”
“Maverick.”
I froze.
Maverick.
Suddenly, the dog lifted his front leg to rest a paw on my arm. I stared at it for a moment, feeling my heart thump in my chest as I brought my gaze to his face. He was panting slightly, but it looked like he was smiling.
I wasn’t one who normally believed in signs from above or any kind of horseshit like that, but this one hit me hard and fast. And I couldn’t shake it.
Because it was Maverick.
There suddenly wasn’t a single doubt in my mind.
I nodded and dropped my voice. “Alright, Maverick…I’ll be your Goose.” I looked over my shoulder at Jake. “This one. He’s the one.”