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)
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Better didn’t begin to cover it. Something fundamental had shifted during those minutes under the water—not just the physical relief of being clean but something deeper. The feeling of being truly cared for. Of letting someone else be strong when I couldn’t be.
That wasn’t a feeling I’d ever had with Kari. I’d tried to be the strong one, the protector. How surprising to realize now that I’d been missing something this vital and reassuring.
Foster handed me clean boxers and a soft T-shirt, then pulled on his own sleep clothes while I struggled with the basic mechanics of getting dressed. My hands were still shaky, and the simple act of pulling a shirt over my head felt monumental.
“Here.” Foster’s hands covered mine, helping guide the fabric down. “Almost done.”
When I was finally dressed, he led me to my bed and pulled back the covers. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you if anything changes. Ella has my number, too.”
I crawled under the blankets, suddenly exhausted beyond belief. But as Foster moved toward his own bed, something close to panic fluttered in my chest.
“Foster?”
He turned back immediately. “Yeah?”
“Will you…” I swallowed hard, feeling ridiculous and needy and not caring. “I feel like I can’t get warm. Will you lie down with me? Just until I warm up?”
Something soft and unguarded crossed his face. “Of course.”
He settled under the covers beside me, and I turned onto my side, facing him. In the dim light filtering through the cabin windows, I could see the tired lines around his eyes, the way his hair was still damp from our shower.
“Thank you,” I whispered again.
“Tommy.” His voice was gentle but firm. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“Yes, I do.” I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “I don’t know what I would have done today without you.”
His thumb stroked across my knuckles. “You would have figured it out. You always do.”
“Maybe. But I’m glad I didn’t have to.”
We lay there in comfortable silence, and I found myself studying his face in the low light. The strong line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the small scar near the left edge of his lip that I’d never noticed before.
This wasn’t the man I’d met in Hawaii six months ago—charming and flirtatious and slightly overwhelming. This wasn’t even the professional, competent instructor I’d been working with at SERA. This was someone deeper, someone who showed up when it mattered, who stayed when things got difficult, who took care of people without expecting anything in return.
And that terrified me.
Because lying there with his hand in mine and his quiet breathing gradually matching my own felt dangerously close to everything I’d never known I wanted. It felt like home in a way that had nothing to do with geography and everything to do with the man beside me.
“Foster?”
“Mmm?”
I almost said it then—the words that were sitting heavy on my tongue, threatening to spill out into the darkness between us. But something held me back. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the sudden, crystal clear understanding of how completely fucked I was.
Because this wasn’t supposed to happen. This tender intimacy, this feeling of rightness, this overwhelming urge to stay right here forever—none of it was part of the plan.
“Should I…” I started, then stopped, not sure how to finish the sentence. Go to California? Stick to our agreement that this is just a fling? Stop falling for you before it’s too late?
Foster seemed to understand what I wasn’t saying. His hand tightened around mine for just a moment before he carefully pulled away, putting inches of space between us that felt like miles.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You should.”
The words hung in the air like a door closing. I could see something shuttering in his expression, the careful walls going back up.
“The interview,” I said, hating how the words tasted in my mouth.
“Stanford.” Foster’s voice was carefully neutral. “It’s a big opportunity.”
“It is.”
“An unmissable one.” Foster shifted and sat up. “So you need better sleep than you’ll get with the two of us sharing this postage stamp.”
The silence that fell between us was different now—heavier, more deliberate. We both knew what we were doing. Rebuilding the boundaries that had crumbled somewhere between the shower and this moment. Reminding ourselves that we had different lives waiting for us.
It was the smart thing to do…
So why did it feel like we were both making the biggest mistake of our lives?
“Foster—” I tried again.
“It’s okay, Tommy.” He paused at the edge of my bed, not quite looking at me. “Today was… a lot. For both of us. But you have plans. Important ones.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him that my plans were just words on paper compared to this feeling blooming between us. But the rational part of my brain—the part that had gotten me through medical school and residency and a decade-long relationship I’d been too scared to leave—knew he was right.