7. Tase
Tase
M y cell phone won’t stop fucking vibrating.
Get your ass over here. I’ve got brew.
It’s a typical Soren text, and after a hellaciously long day, a beer sounds like the best thing in the world. Or at least a close second.
My fingers fly over the cell’s keyboard.
OMW
I drop into the driver’s seat of my Ford and grit my teeth against the desire to pound my head against the steering wheel. Then the pain in my forehead will distract from the throbbing aches in the rest of my body.
People are sick. So fucking sick.
I got into veterinary medicine to help those who don’t have a voice.
No matter where you go, humans are humans. They wait until the last possible minute to get vet care for their animals, and then by the time they bring their dog or cat in, it’s often too late.
This was one of those difficult days where it’s nearly impossible to keep my professionalism nailed in place. I’ve gotten good at it over the years, but today can go straight to hell and fuck itself on the trip south.
I jam the key in the ignition and back out of my parking spot in the minuscule lot behind the clinic.
The rest of the employees have already left for the day. Time for me to unwind, get drunk, and pass out into oblivion. In that order of course.
Although I’ll take the passing out whenever it comes.
It’s a short drive out to Savage Gardens, one I don’t need to be mentally aware of to make. I’ve been out there too many times to count.
Our ritual.
Once a year we all come to the lake for a long boys’ weekend. Except Soren and Aiden don’t live in town. I do.
Work keeps me shackled by obligations, so I’ve got to squeeze in the moments of fun whenever I can.
It’s Friday night. Shouldn’t I be out? Shouldn’t I be doing something to get into the world and be a part of it rather than hiding?
My left knee bobs to the beat of some Enrique Iglesias song on the radio.
No. I’m stuck here because I want to be, so I might as well stop pretending it’s not my choice. This is my life now.
It’s quarter to eight when I park beside Aiden’s truck. The lights from my vehicle hit on another car, sticking out just enough for me to see that it’s a ratty four-door sedan.
Looks like only rust holding the back fender in place, and a good stint through a carwash would probably result in the entire thing falling apart.
Definitely not Soren’s.
Who else do they have at the cabin? Christ, I don’t want to see anyone .
There’s Aiden at the door, with two cold bottles of beer balanced between his fingers. He holds my gaze until I’m out of the Ford and then crosses to press one of the bottles into my waiting grip.
“Happy Friday, fucker. It’s time to get drunk. You with me, Doc?”
I accept the bottle and take a long swig, swiping my hand against my mouth when I’m done. “My pleasure.”
“Soren’s got the grill fired up. Fresh trout,” Aiden says as I trail him inside. “Nothing better.”
“I’ll take ten of them, thanks. And a couple more of these.”
Aiden glances over his shoulder in approval. “You planning on doing some double fisting?”
I sigh, a sweet buzz already twining through my system. Get me in front of that lake and I turn into a pile of goo, happily.
“Hell yeah I am.”
My mind flickers back to the strange car, the rust bucket on worn tires, but I keep my lips zipped.
“We’ve got the fire going and everything. It’s a beautiful night.”
Aiden grabs a bowl of freshly made sweet potato french fries on our way out. Steam still rises from them.
I grab one of the fries and burn my fingers, scalding my mouth when I toss it up, and not caring about either. “Ah, you’re trying out some new culinary skills, I see.”
I chomp through the steam and potato.
“Oh, something like that.” He grins at me.
Outside, smoke belches from the grill. Three Adirondack chairs ring the fire pit and the small patio is a perfect backdrop for the stillness of the lake and the quaking trees.
Aiden’s right; it’s perfect, just warm enough to hint at the coming months but with a bite in the air that offsets the lightning growing in my veins.
A few sips of beer and I’m already halfway lost .
I drop into one of the chairs with the weight of the day like an albatross around my neck.
“Damn, Doc, you look like hell. You could have taken the time to change.” Soren’s got the trout cleaned and side by side on a stainless steel tray. “You don’t have to wear scrubs all the time.”
“I was too keyed up to change. I wanted to get here as quickly as possible,” I tell him.
Aiden settles on my right, his legs spread wide and his posture relaxed. From this angle, I see the kid he used to be in college—the star football player making waves on the field.
Not much has changed since those days.
Except everything has.
How much have we gone through since then? Since two students and their TA thought they could take on the world together?
Aiden’s smile is infectious. He holds out his own bottle and I dutifully clink mine to it. “Cheers,” he mutters.
“You should at least grab a shower, Tase. You can borrow some of my clothes. They won’t fit you, but you won’t smell like whatever it is you smell like,” Soren adds.
“You’d know if you ever bothered to get a real job,” I throw back.
He grunts out a laugh. “I have a real job. It’s called real estate investing. See? It’s even in the title. You should try it sometime if you’re ever ready to stitch up your bleeding heart.”
It’s the same joke we constantly toss like a football to each other. And luckily there’s too much history to ever take offense.
Soren had been on an aspiring trajectory before he decided to take a completely different turn into left field, on a fucking whim.
Neither of the cousins wanted the same thing out of the life they’d been forced into by family. I got my doctorate and they went on their own paths.
Somehow, we kept in touch. We ended up maintaining our closeness despite everything. And thank god for it because I wasn’t sure who I’d be, or where, without them.
Soren grabs the trout with tongs and sets them on the sizzling tines, the fish skin immediately crackling with the heat. Aiden digs his hand into the fries and pulls out a handful. He raises them to his lips and shoves them in at once.
“How long are you planning to stay this time?” I ask, leaning forward.
Aiden shrugs. “A couple of weeks. I’m not sure I can avoid my duties much longer than that.”
“Speak for yourself,” Soren says. “Spring break doesn’t apply to me. I can be here for as long as I want.”
“As long as your daddy’s money holds out, you mean,” I reply as I reach for my own fry.
Shit, it’s perfect. Just crunchy enough to be good without cracking a filling.
“You’re an asshole when you’re sober, you know that?” Soren clicks the tongs threateningly. “Drink up and maybe I’ll like you better, Doctor Walton.”
I grin, wrapping my lips around the mouth of the bottle and drinking deeply. “You liked me well enough when you had me breaking in to get your records from Professor Robinson.”
Aiden groans under his breath and shakes his head; he’s eager for the story but doesn't want to look the part.
“Hey, I needed to know how much he hated me. You were doing a favor for a friend.” Soren chuckles. “Besides, Robinson was a sadist on his best day.”
“You should have worked for him. You have no idea the kinds of tortures he made up. Things you wouldn’t even know were torture until you’re three hours into grading abstracts.”
The memories get me smiling .
It’s always this way with us. Easy, simple. We’re comfortable with each other, and these guys have been there for me when my own family decided they were too busy with their own lives to give a crap about mine.
We have other people in our lives, but we still get together. Our friendship is unbreakable. Only, they managed to get out, explore, pursue their dreams, while I came back to Holly Brook and planted bitter roots.
“All I’m saying is thank fuck you guys come to visit,” I finish.
“Sounds like he misses us, Sor,” Aiden jokes, his mouth still full.
Soren groans and says, “I’m going out on a limb to say the doc has a hard time making friends. He’s got his head buried in work and refuses to acknowledge the rest of the world.”
I grin. These guys are my friends. With them, I can be myself. The bad day melts away and the mask comes off.
I adjust my seat; the chair is a little uncomfortable but a few more beers will fix everything. The trout smells great, there’s fire and moonlight?—
And footsteps.
Loud and echoing, coming from inside the house.
The car . Of course. I’d forgotten all about it. Whose is it?
“You guys have someone with you?”
It’s impossible to miss the way Soren’s grin shifts into a scowl, his eyes narrowed. Aiden only bursts into dark laughter as the door opens and the woman I’d caught snooping earlier today slips outside.
I sit up straighter. Holy crap, she’s here ?
“Boys’ night?” she asks.
Her voice is a soft fluttering thing in contrast to the steely set of her shoulders and her lush curves. She pushes eyeglasses up higher on her nose, wavy hair in a messy ponytail at the top of her head.
“ You . ”
The word escapes before I reel it back in.
I’m out of the chair quickly. The girl looking in the window, with the groceries. She’d been watching me and took off rabbit-like when we made eye contact.
Soren makes a scoffing sound of disgust in his throat and pointedly turns his back to us, focusing on the grill.
The girl—the woman —pays him no mind. Like she’s heard his bullshit before and is used to his behavior.
I remember my manners. “You want a seat?”
It’s impossible not to notice there’s only three chairs instead of four. Who is she? And why did Soren go immediately cold?
She just holds up her hand to wave me off. “Don’t worry about it. No one else does.”
“Gilli, you’re breaking my heart. You know I care.” Aiden pats his lap. “I’ve got a seat warmed up for you right here.”