Chapter 4Aiden
Chapter Four
Aiden
The night had already draped its velvet cloak over Dove Key when Luke asked for permission to board, a growler of beer from Conch Republic Brewpub cradled in his arm. The clink of glass hinted at the promise of easing the day’s tension and I rose to my feet, more than ready for some distraction.
“Granted,” I called out. “You’re the one with the beer.”
Tall and rangy with a handsome, amenable face, Luke Stallings and I had been friends since we were kids growing up together. We’d kept in touch over the years and renewed our in-person friendship as soon as I’d come back.
“Hope you’re ready for a taste of the best brew on the island.” With a satisfying clunk, he set the growler down on a rough-hewn table next to the two pint glasses I’d already gathered from the galley.
I smiled somewhat grimly. “I’m more than ready.”
Our camping chairs creaked as we settled into them, the canvas seats embracing us. The glow from the lights along the marina’s boardwalk cast a warm, inviting ambience that contrasted with the chill in my bones—a coldness that had little to do with the lilting breeze wafting in from the sea.
“Quiet night,” I murmured. The marina was a busy hive of charters and fishermen during the day, but at night, the voices gave way to creaking lines and lapping water.
A bartender at Conch Republic for years, Luke popped open the growler like the pro he was. The yeasty scent of hops and malt rose up to meet us. “Yeah. Quiet’s good, though. Lets a guy think.” He poured golden liquid into the two glasses.
Or overthink.
“Cheers. To small-town living and big-time dreams,” Luke toasted, raising his glass toward the stars as he drifted a hand through his loose brown locks. “And nights off, unlike some slackers like you who only work the day shift.”
“Cheers,” I echoed, the beer leaving a bittersweet trail down my throat as I stared into the distance, unseeing.
“Something’s eating at you. Dish, man.” Luke’s voice broke through the silence that had settled between us. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
“Stella came into the clinic today.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
“Stella Markham?” His eyebrows shot up, a glint of recognition sparking in his eyes. “As in that Stella?”
“Yeah, that Stella.” I swirled the contents of my glass, watching the liquid spin. “It’s been… a lot, seeing her again.”
“Did she come in for a check-up or something?”
“Or something,” I muttered, not about to discuss particulars about a patient.
Or even a not-patient.
Standing outside the exam room, I’d clicked open the appointment to see who was on the other side of the door, just like with any other patient. Then I saw that name and stumbled to a complete halt, a wave of freezing, shocked numbness sweeping over me. I’d stared at the closed door, intensely curious to see her. But I never imagined she wasn’t expecting to see me.
“Aiden?” Luke pulled me back to the present, and I glanced up to see both brows halfway up his head. “Are you thinking about trying again? With her, I mean?”
“Trying implies there might be success at the end of the effort.” My words felt slow and heavy. “I don’t know if she’d even entertain the idea. She wasn’t excited to see me. She didn’t even realize I was the doctor who took over the practice.”
“Ouch. So it wasn’t a happy reunion.”
A bitter laugh tumbled out of my mouth. After Stella slammed the exam-room door in my face, I’d stood there like a statue. A statue with a raging pulse. Fortunately, she’d been in the room at the end of the hall, so no one was near to see me hurry across the carpet to an open exam room and close the door as silently as I could. Then I leaned back against it, resting my head against the wooden surface as my mind whirled and spun in tight little circles. I’d passed the rest of the day in a haze, welcoming the distractions of my patients simply because they kept me from thinking about that shocked, horrified look when she’d recognized me.
I rubbed my gritty eyes. “Not exactly. Seeing her again—It was like a punch to the stomach.” The image of Stella as she sat on that exam table flashed vividly in my mind. The tightness in my chest constricted further. “After all this time, thinking of what she might look like now. And she’s…” I trailed off, words failing to encapsulate the rush of emotions.
“Aiden. You’re not exactly chopped liver, you know. She’s what?”
“More beautiful than I ever imagined. And seeing her so… stunned.” And embarrassed. Mortified . “It caught me off guard.”
“Sounds like she still affects you pretty strongly.”
“Yeah.” I looked away. “I left my senior year and never looked back. She’s probably never even thought about me in years. I can patch up any wound, set any bone, but facing her after this? That’s a different kind of fear.”
“Because you think she’ll tell you to go to hell?”
“Because I’m sure she will. She has every right to.”
“Stella’s visit really did a number on you, huh?”
“Like a wrecking ball to a glass house.” With a deep sigh, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the sky, trying to find some solace in the constellations. I could feel Luke’s sympathetic eyes on me.
“Look, I get it. She’s… she was your world once.” He took a slow sip from his beer, thoughtful. “And maybe that’s where she should stay.”
“Maybe,” I replied with a frown, though a part of me knew he had a point. I reached for the growler and poured the final bit into our glasses.
“Look, I’m not saying forget her. That would be impossible. But maybe… don’t let the past hold you back from something better.”
I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a long breath. “I know. I do. I was settling in here. I was even thinking about looking around for someone to date. But now…”
“Now things got a little cloudier, huh? Like sailing into the deep, murky unknown?”
“Since when did you become a poet?” I teased. Our laughter mingled with the distant sounds of the ocean.
“Since I came over for a beer and instead found you reeling over a woman.” Luke’s tone might have been light, but his eyes were serious. “You’ll have to find out whether Stella is your hurricane or your haven. Or just a part of your past.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Except there had been a tightness in my chest at his last sentence. The one about leaving Stella in the past. Was that what I wanted? I settled back in my chair and rubbed my forehead.
The growler sat empty on the table, a testament to the evening’s camaraderie and catharsis. I glanced at my watch, the comforting weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. “I’ve got to be at the clinic early tomorrow.” I stood and stretched the tightness from my limbs .
“Ah, Dr. Mitchell, the respectable professional,” Luke teased, tipping an imaginary hat as he stood too. “Gone are the days of closing down bars and waking up on the beach.”
The corner of my mouth lifted. “Or slumped in your car. Yeah, I’ve got an image to portray these days.”
He clapped me on the shoulder, his smile softening. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, Aiden. Chasing after that dream—a big dream—and making it happen. You’ve wanted to be a doctor your whole life.”
“Thanks, but…” I hesitated, my gaze drifting off to where the dark outline of the sea met the sky. “Following my dream in Michigan somehow led me back here. Funny how life doesn’t care much for your plans.”
“Life’s like that,” he agreed, picking up the empty growler. “The best stories are the ones you never see coming. See you later.”
“Good night.” I waved as he ambled off the boat, though my thoughts were already chasing the possibility of reconnecting with Stella, of rewriting our story.
In the silence of the marina, I padded down the stairs into the cabin. The boat’s soft, soothing creaking filled my bedroom. I sank into my bed, the pillow cool beneath my folded arms as I stared at the ceiling fan swirling lazily above. Stella’s face flashed before my eyes—the way her cheeks had flamed, the horrified glint in her eyes.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing a hand over my stubble. She was far more stunning than any fantasy I’d conjured up over the years. Those endlessly deep brown eyes, and that perfect oval face. The thought of approaching her, of laying myself bare to the possibility of rejection—it set my heart racing. How could I possibly bridge the gap between us? What words would unravel years of silence and untended wounds?
The empty years I had created, not her.