Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
There was something in Tommy’s voice—hope, maybe, or testing—that made my breathing uneven. Like he was asking for a reason that had nothing to do with career advice.
“There is no full-time SAR job where I live, and Majestic is my home,” I said carefully. “My family’s there. My life.”
“Right.” Tommy looked away, and I caught a flicker of disappointment before he hid it. “Of course.”
We straightened up and brushed the pine needles off in silence after that, the easy intimacy of moments before replaced by something more complicated.
As we walked back toward SERA with Chickie trotting between us, I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing. Not just with Tommy, but with everything. Was I really happy mediating the same neighbor disputes and tourist mishaps year after year? Watching my good friends and family move forward in their lives, toward the direction of their dreams, while I stayed in the same old place, comfortable and safe and increasingly alone?
Was I just scared? Scared of taking risks, of wanting more, of admitting that maybe a small-town sheriff’s department wasn’t enough anymore.
Scared that when Tommy left for Stanford, he’d be taking the best part of me with him.
“Foster,” Tommy said quietly as we reached the main campus.
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens with Stanford…” He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. “I need you to know… I never wanted this to be just temporary.”
Before I could respond—before I knew how I wanted to respond—he was walking toward the main building, leaving me standing there with Chickie and a chest full of feelings I had no idea what to do with.
Because if this wasn’t temporary for him, if he was starting to feel the same terrifying pull I was fighting every day, we were both in a lot more trouble than either of us had bargained for.
There was no world in which he’d be happy playing small-town doctor or where I’d be happy as a big-city beat cop.
As far as I was concerned, temporary was less about what either of us wanted…
And more about the only option we had.
14
TOMMY
Morning brought awkward coffee and stolen glances across the breakfast table in the cafeteria. Foster looked as tired as I felt, dark circles under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there yesterday. He avoided my gaze, focusing intently on his eggs and bacon while Chickie begged shamelessly at his feet.
I’d made a point of staying at the bonfire until long after Foster had turned in. His nonresponse to my comment about not wanting our relationship to be temporary had been a cold dose of reality. This thing between us wasn’t just about what I wanted, and I was embarrassed, hurt, and guilty that I’d put him in a position where he had to hold his boundary with me.
He’d done a masterful job at avoiding me all evening, and by the time I’d slunk back to the cabin, he’d at least pretended to be dead asleep.
Now, I was stuck in the position of trying to act like nothing was wrong… while all I could think about was figuring out a way to smooth things over between us. We’d had a good thing going—even if it was only physical and only temporary—and I’d ruined it.
“Sleep well?” Robyn asked cheerfully, sliding into the seat next to me with her clipboard and eternal optimism.
“Like a baby,” I lied, forcing a smile while hyperaware of Foster’s presence two seats away.
The students were chattering excitedly about today’s exercise—a complex multi-team operation that would test everything they’d learned so far. I tried to focus on their questions about medical protocols and emergency triage, but my attention kept drifting to Foster as he explained rappelling techniques to his group.
“Dr. Marian?” Lorelai, one of the students on my team in this third week of rotations, called down the table. “Could you repeat the hypothermia protocols you mentioned yesterday?”
I blinked, realizing I’d completely zoned out while staring at the way Foster’s tactical pants hugged his thighs. “Er. Yes. Hypothermia.” I cleared my throat and tried to project professionalism while my brain was entirely occupied with memories of those same thighs pressed against mine. “Always assume severe until proven otherwise in wilderness settings.”
Twenty minutes later, we were loaded onto the bus heading into the backcountry for today’s exercise. The weather had been iffy all morning—thick clouds building over the mountains and an oppressive humidity that made everyone’s clothes stick to their skin.
I found myself sitting across the aisle from Foster, close enough to smell his soap and see the way his jaw clenched every time our eyes met. The memory of his hands in my hair, the desperate sound he’d made yesterday when I’d whispered his name—it was driving me crazy.
“Focus,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?” Foster asked, glancing over.