Chapter 3
THREE
NOAH
I slam my office door hard enough to rattle the glass, then immediately regret it. Childish. The last thing I need is to give anyone another reason to question my professionalism, or go running to Viktor as soon as he gets back that I made someone cry again.
Dropping into my chair, I pull up Victor’s contact on my phone, tapping my fingers impatiently as it rings. The clinic’s emptiness amplifies every sound—the hum of fluorescent lights, the distant drip of a faucet someone failed to fully close, my own too-rapid breathing.
“Noah! How’s my favorite trauma specialist enjoying his mountain sabbatical?” Victor’s voice carries a familiar cheerful condescension that makes me want to throw my phone against the wall.
“Cut the crap, Victor. Why is there an intern in my clinic?”
“Ah, you’ve met Dr. Chang. Promising young resident, excellent academic record. Not enough women in the field and all that, so she’s a great find for the program.”
“She’s barely bigger than my hiking pack,” I growl. “And from the way she nearly jumped out of her skin when I walked in, I’d guess her practical experience with stressful situations is limited.”
“Her application was exceptional. Top of her class, impressive volunteer work abroad and she came well-recommended from her residency director.”
“I don’t care if she performed brain surgery on the International Space Station. I did not agree to babysit.”
Victor’s chuckle grates on my nerves. “You don’t have a choice, Klinkhart. The board made this decision weeks ago. Your participation in the teaching program is a condition of your continued employment.”
My jaw clenches so tight I can hear my teeth creak. “I came here to practice medicine, not teach it.”
“And what about before that?” Victor’s voice loses its lightness. “Three months at Everest base camp, before that some locum tenens thing in Colorado. How long are you even planning to stay here before you find a reason to fly away again, Noah?”
I stare out the window at the mountain looming in the distance, its peak disappearing into clouds. So familiar, even though each time I see it feels like the very first. I feel drawn to it, just as much as I wish I never had to look at it again.
“I’m not the teaching type,” I manage finally.
“You were once. Before…”
My free hand curls into a fist against the glass. “Don’t.”
Victor sighs. “Noah, it’s been over a year. What happened on that mountain—“
“Was my fault,” I cut him off. “We both know it.”
“The review board cleared you completely. No amount of medical expertise could have—”
“Rubber stamps don’t bring back the dead.”
A heavy silence falls between us. Finally, Victor speaks again, his tone gentler. “Dr. Chang has to start this week. Train her. Maybe helping someone else will help you too.”
I hang up without responding, tossing the phone onto my desk. Fantastic. Not only am I back in the town I spent my entire youth wanting to escape, but now I’m saddled with a resident who looks like she’d blow away in a strong breeze.
Holly Chang. The name suits her—delicate, precise, nature-inspired.
The way she’d stood her ground despite clearly being intimidated was almost impressive.
Almost. But wilderness medicine isn’t about classroom smarts or even controlled chaos like urban emergency rooms. It’s about making life-or-death decisions with minimal resources while the environment actively tries to kill you and your patient.
And it doesn’t help that my first glimpse of her sent my alpha instincts into overdrive. Something about her slight frame and those wide, intelligent eyes made me want to gather her onto my lap and feel her purr against my chest like a contented kitten.
The thought is so unprofessional it’s appalling. I scrub my hands over my face, disgusted with myself. I haven’t had that kind of reaction to anyone since...well, since ever. Must be the isolation getting to me.
Which just raises the question of what the hell she thinks she’s doing pursuing a career in wilderness medicine. From the looks of her, Holly Chang is more likely to be blown off a mountain by a gust of wind than survive the hike out for a remote rescue.
Compulsion drives me to double-check her human resources file just to be sure. I blow out air in a rush of relief as the words glare back at me in bold letters.
Designation: BETA
At least, that’s something.
My innate reaction to throw Dr. Chang over my shoulder just to hear that squeak of surprise again obviously has more to do with the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in months, instead of anything about her personally.
Even if I pictured what she might look like without that baggy sweater and scrub pants drowning the shape of her body.
“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter to myself, standing abruptly. “She’s a colleague, not a puzzle to solve.”
A colleague I’m stuck with, whether my tenuous hold on self-control can handle it or not.
Ipull into the curved driveway of a house that’s far too large for a single occupant, let alone a temporary one. Three stories of glass and timber perched on the mountainside, modern luxury disguised as rustic charm.
Not my style at all, but beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to free housing.
I grab my bag and a stack of medical journals from the passenger seat, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders.
The door unlocks with a soft click, and I step into the cavernous entryway.
The scent hits me immediately—fresh snow and cinnamon, with undertones of coffee and hard liquor. Almost as familiar as my own name.
“Honey, I’m home,” I call out sarcastically.
The sound of rapid gunfire—digital, not real—echoes from the living room. I follow it to find Kai sprawled across an oversized leather couch, controller in hand, eyes fixed on a massive television where soldiers duck and weave through a war-torn landscape.
“About time,” Kai says without looking away from the screen. “There’s pizza in the kitchen if you haven’t eaten.”
I drop my bag on a chair. “Have you been sitting there all day?”
Kai’s thumbs continue their rapid movement across the controller. On screen, his character performs an impossible somersault before headshotting an enemy. “Is there somewhere else I should be?”
“I don’t know. Work? Most healthy adults with functioning frontal lobes go there during daylight hours.”
“Sounds like a terrible way to spend your time.” He finally pauses the game and looks up at me, expression oozing false cheer. “I’m pretty committed to being a man of leisure these days.”
I shake my head. “What happened to your latest business venture? The sports equipment thing?”
Kai leans back, stretching his arms above his head. “Turns out my supplier was less than forthcoming about the quality of his merchandise. Got stuck with three hundred defective snowboards.”
“Jesus, Kai.”
“The upside is I now have enough material to build a treehouse out of fiberglass.” He gestures toward the screen. “Meanwhile, Call of Duty provides an excellent avenue for drowning my sorrows in virtual bloodshed.”
Receiving a sizable inheritance after his parents passed away put Kai in a position where he doesn’t need to worry about money coming in. But that doesn’t mean sitting around all day is good for him.
His tone is light, almost flippant, but I catch the tension in his shoulders. I’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s covering up something deeper. The cavalier attitude is just armor—as much a mask as the cloth covering his face.
We might only be four years apart in age, but I’ve always felt protective over the kid that I kept from getting his ass kicked after he cheated in a game of pickup basketball when we were in elementary school. I’d been gently prodding and/or pulling his ass out of the fire ever since.
Or off the couch, in this case.
“You might feel better about the day if you did something productive.”
“Thanks, dad,” he responds sarcastically.
“You know I’m serious, right?”
“And I hope you know you’re a guest here.” Kai lobs a handful of popcorn at me. “If I wanted a surrogate parent, then I’d let my housekeeper come on full time.”
I’d been away from the town long enough that I believed his claims of general happiness when Kai sent me the occasional updates on his life. It wasn’t until my recent return that I realized the true nature of the situation.
All the money in the world is no replacement for a lack of purpose.
“I’m really trying not to nag you here, man.”
He cast an annoyed glance over his shoulder before his attention returns to the game. “Then maybe you should show instead of telling and stop nagging.”
“Can’t help it, I’m a doctor. We’re professional nags.”
“Coming and going at all hours of the night. Always at me to eat my vegetables and get regular bloodwork done,” Kai grouses playfully. “One of these days I’m going to get sick of it and kick you out of my house.”
“No, you won’t,” I reply easily, because it’s just the truth. “You’d miss me too much.”
I’ve been living with Kai since my return to Heat Mountain.
It’s better for both of us this way. Kai isn’t rambling around this empty house by himself, and I don’t have to pay the exorbitant rent that comes along with getting a place in a tourist town.
My parents sold their place and moved to Florida when they retired.
Buying a house of my own isn’t an option when I’m still trying to figure out whether I’m going to stay here.
Kai unpauses the game as I settle onto the couch across from him with a plate of pizza. “You do seem like the stick up your ass is poking at you harder than normal this evening. How was your day, dear?”
I wince, recalling exactly what it was that had me ready to pick a fight from the moment I walked in the door. “We’ve got a new visiting resident at the clinic. Apparently, she’s being dropped in my lap.”
“She?” Kai leans forward, eyebrows raising. “Tell me more.”
The image of Dr. Holly Chang’s wide-eyed look when I’d snapped at her is already burned behind my retinas. “I talked to her for about five minutes total.”
Kai nods. “But long enough to blow a bunch of sand in your panties, apparently.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Then what was it like?”
I take a bite of pizza, trying to decide how much to tell Kai about my interaction with Holly.
Part of me wants to keep it simple, professional.
Another part of me remembers the unexpected jolt when I first saw her standing in front of me, somehow both completely out of place and exactly where she belongs.
“She’s...competent on paper,” I finally say. “Top of her class, some interesting experience.”
“But?” Kai prompts, pausing his game again.
I shrug. “But I don’t need some fresh-faced resident getting underfoot. I’ve got enough to deal with.”
“Uh-huh.” Kai’s expression turns knowing. “And she’s hideous, I assume? Some kind of troll with three heads?”
“Asian. Petite. Dark hair.” I keep my voice clinical, as if describing a patient. “Professionally presentable.”
“Translation: smoking hot and you’re terrified.”
“I am not—“
The words die in my throat as a shadow materializes beside me. My pizza plate clatters to the floor as I nearly jump out of my skin.
Grayson stands there, silent as a ghost, lower face concealed behind that damn skull-painted bandana. His gray eyes watch me impassively above the mask, not a hint of apology for appearing like some horror movie villain.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I clutch my chest, heart hammering. “Make some noise when you move, would you?”
Kai bursts into laughter, nearly falling off the couch. “Your face! Oh my god, your face!” He wheezes between peals of laughter. “Never gets old!”
I glare at both of them. “How long have you been standing there?”
Grayson shrugs, a minimal movement of one shoulder that I’d miss if I wasn’t staring right at him. “Long enough.” His voice is rough from disuse, like gravel underfoot.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was back in town?” I demand, turning to Kai.
Kai wipes tears from his eyes, still chuckling. “You didn’t ask.”
“That’s not—“ I stop myself, taking a deep breath. Getting worked up only encourages them. “Normal people announce themselves when entering a room. They don’t lurk in corners like serial killers.”
Grayson’s eyes crinkle slightly above his mask—the only sign he might be smiling. He moves to the kitchen with silent efficiency, returning with a bottle of beer.
“How are the wilds treating you these days?” I ask, trying to regain my composure. “Still sleeping under the stars more often than not?”
The man spends most of the summer avoiding tourists by roughing it in the mountain woods, only returning to town in the off-season when things quiet down.
Grayson tilts his head, considering. “Grizzly bear took my favorite camping spot.”
“You could try, I don’t know, sleeping in an actual bed in an actual house,” I suggest. “Like most humans.”
“Too soft,” he replies simply.
Despite his reserved demeanor, I can read him as well as I ever have.
The tension in his shoulders, the vigilant scanning of the room—habits formed in combat zones that never fully fade.
Grayson had left for the military right after high school, while Kai and I headed off to college.
When he returned years later with those scars and that mask, he’d retreated further into himself, preferring the solitude of the wilderness to human company.
“Jenkins been asking when you’re coming back to manage the store for the winter,” Kai mentions, restarting his game. “He wants to go visit his daughter in California next month.”
Grayson just shrugs.
I watch him, this man who is my closest friend, now more comfortable tracking wildlife than talking to people. The three of us—different as we are—somehow maintain this orbit around each other. A constellation held together by history more than daily interaction.
“You staying for dinner?” I ask him.
His eyes meet mine briefly and he grunts a response that I assume means he already ate.
Of course he did. Probably caught and skinned whatever it was himself.
Though I do appreciate how nicely his sudden appearance provides a distraction from any more uncomfortable questions about my new resident.