Chapter 14 – Catalina
Jensen’s childhood home, a gorgeous cabin with dark wood set against the mountains, appears around the bend, flanked by old trees on either side of the structure.
He slows the truck down to take it in. I watch his hands on the wheel go easy.
The set of his shoulders drops half an inch like he’s more relaxed out here.
I've been watching him for weeks now in arenas, in hotel lobbies, in training rooms, and I've never seen him look like this. He’s smiling at nothing except the land.
"There it is," he says quietly, and he's not talking to me.
I don't say anything. It feels like interrupting. This was his sanctuary growing up. This is where his grandma raised him and taught him how to ride horses. Where he fell in love with fishing, the mountains, and eventually, bull riding.
It feels sacred being here. I wonder how many other women have seen this place.
The trees thin out into a clearing, and I catch a glimpse of the lake he’d mentioned. It’s still and dark in the early evening, so I can’t get a good look at it, but it looks beautiful.
I've lived my entire adult life in a city where the sky ends at the roofline. I forgot the world could look like this.
"It's pretty," I say.
He glances at me sideways, just for a second, then smiles. "Yeah," he says. "It is."
He parks the truck and sits for a moment with the engine off, neither of us moving.
"Grandma’s going to love you," he says, like I asked.
"You don't know that."
"I know her." He pushes the door open. "Come on."
If I’m being honest, I didn’t think this whole weekend trip through. I never, ever, do anything spontaneous unless you count taking the job as the Series doctor, and even that was a lifesaving, completely necessary, deviation from my norm.
Yes, I know Jensen was raised by his grandma. Yes, I know “meeting the family” is a significant milestone for normal people with normal relationships. But Jensen and I are not in a relationship. In fact, maybe I underestimated just what we are given I've never had a one-night stand before.
And did I consider any of those things when I said sure, why not, I’ll tag along to Tennessee because it’s our bye-week and I’ve always wanted to see Nashville and you look like a good tour guide?
I didn’t. I just needed something to do, and I didn’t want to go home.
Because where is home for me anymore? I moved out of the apartment that my ex and I spent the last decade in before going to Whitewood Creek.
Then, I went straight from Whitewood Creek to the circuit. I don’t really have a home anymore.
Maybe it’s the movies I grew up watching.
They were all soft lighting and twangy music and wide-open fields set in small towns.
Maybe it's those few times when I snuck a listen to country music on my way into a difficult surgery.
Maggie Parton and her Tennessee twang always got me in the mood.
Now that I think about it… the lyrics to the song “Jolene” were a little too on the nose for my situation.
But Tennessee has always seemed magical to me. Exciting. Southern in a way my born-and-raised Californian heart has never known except from a distance. The closest we get to magic in California is Disneyland. Out here it’s the size of the mountains and the fresh air that make it feel otherworldly.
I’m trying very hard not to assign too much meaning to this trip, because my track record with “meaning” is abysmal.
My ex hated his own family, so I never met them.
Never had a “meet the parents” moment despite being with him for a decade.
I never learned how to navigate someone else’s childhood home or make small talk across a dining room table with someone whose opinion should have mattered.
And I have no idea if I’d had been good at it.
My instinct says no. That no, I wouldn't be good at a whole meet the family situation. That I’d bristle and the parents would judge me for being with their son and wonder, is this really the best he could do?
My ex had met my family and promptly decided he would only attend holiday gatherings going forward if I required his attendance.
I love my family, so that gutted me, but I never showed it.
To accept that, I took shifts at the hospital when everyone else was with their loved ones celebrating.
Extra money is what I’d tell myself, but I missed out on time spent with my family because of him.
Jensen’s grandma doesn’t give me a chance to worry about any of those things. The second I step over the threshold of her adorable home, she’s wrapping me in a hug like I’ve been hers since birth. I freeze.
I don't hug people. That's not a personality quirk or a social anxiety thing, it's just a fact about me that I've made peace with.
My parents were not huggers with me. By the time Isla came along they'd apparently figured out something they hadn't known to give me, and I watched it with a kind of scientific detachment that I now recognize as longing.
So that means I don't know what to do with this kind woman's arms around me. My instinct is to go rigid, to count the seconds, to wait for the release. Instead, I just… stand there. And then, before I can analyze it or talk myself out of it, I find myself hugging her back. The tension loosens in my shoulders, and I realize, wow, I probably couldn’t have handled a meet the parents situation.
But a tiny, white Abuelita, I can handle.
“Doctor Alba,” she says in a kind voice. "Welcome."
“You can call me Catalina,” I mumble into the soft fabric of her sweater that smells like her perfume. It's a little intense for me, but I don't mind it on her. She smells like warmth.
She's slightly round, with bright white hair and the unhurried easy of a woman who’s already lived out her dreams. decide that I like her immediately.
Which, frankly, is alarming. It almost feels like the way I felt when I looked down at her grandson’s cracked-open chest. He has a nice one, even if it's covered in a tattoo.
She pulls back, wiping at her eyes. I notice Jensen standing behind her with his usual big smile. One booted foot crossed over the other, leaning against the counter.
“I never thought I’d hold the woman who fixed my grandson’s heart,” she says to me.
And that’s when I realize she’s really crying.
Oh. Oh no.
Of course I didn’t think this through. Of course, I didn’t connect the dots between “surgeon” and “grandson with a shoulder injury and a reputation for reckless behavior bringing home his freaking heart surgeon.”
I viewed Jensen as… Jensen. The chaos cowboy I’ve accidentally befriended mostly because he won't leave me alone. I forgot he’s someone’s whole world, and the doctor who fixed him months ago coming home with him is probably an alarming sight to see.
“Jensen’s heart is fine,” I rush out, glaring at him over her shoulder as she hugs me again. “That’s not why I’m here. Please don't worry.”
She pulls back and looks at me with confusion. “I didn’t think that was why you were here, dear. I know his heart's as good as new. All because you fixed it.”
“Oh.”
Strike one for not being able to read social cues correctly.
Jensen steps between us, draping his giant arms over both our shoulders like he’s presenting us for a family portrait.
“I already explained to grandma why you came home with me.”
“You did?” I ask, because at this point, I’m fairly certain I don't even know why I'm here.
His smile gets brighter. “Told her you came because my heart was the best one you’ve ever touched, and you needed to be around it a little longer.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
He shrugs like he’s agreeing with both of us.
His grandma laughs lightly. "He told me you have a date tonight."
If I didn't respect his grandma so instantly, I'd stomp on his foot in front of her for that. I shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed that he told her. I'm here for vacation, just like he is. I glare at him anyway. He smiles at me. She just laughs easily.
“Hope he’s more handsome than my grandson.” She pats Jensen’s chest.
“He’s not,” Jensen says immediately. My glare deepens.
“I trust Jensen will show you Tennessee so well you’ll want to retire here someday just like he wants to.”
I smile politely. “Can’t wait to see it. He said he’d take me fishing, too. I’ve never done that before.”
“Oh, you’re going to have a blast. Here,” she reaches across the counter and hands me a glass of what I assume must be sweet tea.
It smells amazing and looks like it contains an entire box of sugar in it.
“Your room’s down the hall, opposite of Jensen’s.
He can show you where to put your things.
Then come have dinner with me. And tell me everything about his shoulder injury and what you two have been up to. ”
“Absolutely,” I say, even though I plan to tell her only the legally required minimum. Because HIPAA, and all that.
Jensen leads me down the narrow hallway of his grandma’s cabin.
I take in the pictures lining the walls as we go.
Little Jensen, gap-toothed and sunburned, hugging a fishing pole; riding a bike too small for him; standing in oversized boots beside a pond.
Riding on the back of a beautiful black horse.
All of them are just him. No parents. No siblings.
I stop at one—Jensen at maybe eight or nine, sitting on the porch steps with a fishing rod twice his height, squinting into the sun like he's trying to see something far away.
He looks so serious. Too serious for a kid that age.
I know that look. I've seen it in photographs of myself from around the same age—that expression children get when they've learned early that the adults around them are unreliable and they've decided, quietly, to take things from here.
I reach up and straighten the frame slightly. It was crooked by about three degrees.
“You were cute,” I tell him.
He grins down at me. “I was a little hellion.”
Something in my chest pulls tight knowing that he wants a family of his own someday.
And probably one that he'll raise in this same adorable cabin. I like imagining him here, loud, messy, probably tracking mud everywhere. I don’t like imagining him being lonely.
I wonder if that’s why he has these dreams. To prove to himself that he’ll do it better than his parents did.
I feel confident that he will. Jensen’s built to be someone’s dad.
“Here ya go.” He gestures into the open doorway of the room across from his bedroom. It’s small, cozy and perfect. There's a quilt on the bed, a dresser older than both of us combined, and some western styled artwork hanging on the walls. I’ve never slept in a room decorated like this.
“Ever stayed in a cabin before?”
I shake my head. “First time.”
He grins. “First time for everything. It gets drafty at night, but out here the only light pollution is the stars. You wanna get changed for your date now? That way we can head out right after dinner. I’d hate for you to be late to see Brock.”
Something about the way he says his name tells me he’d actually love that. Something about that makes me feel like I might too. Before I can stop myself, I say it.
“I should cancel the date. This was rude. I’m really out of practice and wasn’t thinking.”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “Catalina. No.”
There’s no more explanation, just him stopping me, telling me not to cancel. I bite down on my bottom lip, his eyes drop there immediately, and I watch his throat as he works through a slow swallow.
“I’ll meet you in the dining room in a few minutes.”
Then he closes the door behind him, leaving me alone in my temporary room with my suitcase, nerves, and the looming reality that I’m meeting a man for drinks while Jensen watches me.
I walk to the mirror that's perched on top of the dresser and stare at my reflection.
I don't even recognize myself anymore. The old Catalina, the one who was engaged to the only man she’d ever slept with, moving through life like she performs surgery, without having to think, would never believe I was staying with a stranger and his grandma for a week.
I should be thinking about Brock. I've been on exactly two first dates in my entire adult life, and one was with Jensen, which really wasn’t a date, but still ended in his hotel room naked.
I should be picking out something that says approachable.
A woman who is trying to put herself back out there and learn what she likes in a partner.
Instead, I unzip my suitcase and immediately pull out the first dress I packed. Because all I can think about is dressing in something Jensen will notice.
Something that will make him look twice.