by May Archer
“Mr. Wynott!” I lifted a hand in a wave at the short, starchy man in his fedora, holding his tiny dog on a leash. “How are you?”
Marius Wynott was the owner of Wynott’s Books, a secondhand bookshop located on the ground floor of his gorgeous Victorian home. Taffy had said the house had been in his family for ages, and the two upper floors were even grander than the first. Gloria had told me I needed to see Mr. Wynott’s collection of local memorabilia. But when I’d stopped by Wednesday, the man had barely started showing me around when his Pomeranian attacked me with love, literally trembling in excitement as she licked my chin, so I’d been forced to sit and pet her instead. I’d left with a book on pirates and a smile on my face.
Mr. Wynott crossed the street, led by a white-brown-and-black blur of barking excitement.
“Topaz!” I bent down to caress her furry face. “Really, more people ought to display this level of excitement at seeing me.”
“She’s usually very reserved and dignified,” Mr. Wynott said, bewildered. “But she’s taken to you immediately.”
“Have you? Have you, baby girl?”
She yapped excitedly, and I hadn’t thought I was a fan of tiny dogs, but I decided this one was an exception.
“That reminds me,” Mr. Wynott said. He hesitated. “I’m going to a writing conference for two weeks in early July, and I wonder… could you watch Topaz for me? My friend Chrissy is coming to mind the shop while I’m gone, and she does an excellent job, but she’s a cat person.” He wrinkled his nose like this was an embarrassing flaw to confess about his friend. “She and Topaz have almost nothing to say to one another.”
I grinned. “Sure. Let me give you my number and you can text me the dates, and I’ll…” I blinked. Wait. July. Would I still be here then? I mean, probably, right? That was weeks away.
I grabbed my phone to check my calendar again and saw that I’d gotten two more texts from Fenn.
Seriously, Loafers. Can we talk?
Are you avoiding me? Who’s running now?
Okay, that one stung.
Topaz licked my face, and I resumed petting her. “Sorry,” I told Mr. Wynott. “Just give Taffy the dates and I’ll put them on my calendar later, okay?”
“You’re a treasure, Doctor!” Mr. Wynott tipped his fedora. “Come, Topaz. It’s nearly nap time. Mason, you’re welcome to stop by later and visit your betrothed.” He winked.
I barely had time to be amused by this before Taffy and her son, Max, pulled into a parking space near me, and Taffy waved.
“Max, you remember Doc Mason, right?” Taffy said. She ruffled her son’s reddish hair.
Max gave a long-suffering sigh, then shot me a very solemn, Fenn-like chin lift. “Yep. Hey.”
“Hey,” I agreed, giving him a chin-lift in reply. I remembered what it was like to be ten way too clearly. “What are you two doing today?”
“Arcade,” Max said effusively, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Jeremy Mickell is opening Mickell’s Arcade on the weekends again, starting this morning,” Taffy explained, grinning broadly. “He got some kind of small-business grant through Big Rafe Goodman! I don’t know what magic he’s working, but man, is it exciting.”
I understood what she meant. All around, the little town center was buzzing, even on a Sunday. The whine of saws and crack of hammers filled the air. People stood chatting and laughing on the sidewalks, despite the heat of the day. The place felt cautiously optimistic, like a crocus in the spring, and I found myself absorbing the vibe.
“Mom! Bean Me Up is open.” Max pointed toward the coffee shop I’d walked by several times while it was closed, but which now had a couple of small tables and chairs arranged on the sidewalk. “Can we get donuts before we game?”
Taffy grinned. “Sure. Just this once.”
Max ran off without another word, and Taffy bit her lip.
“It’s been so hard for him.” She shook her head once. “I mean, first-world problems, right? But all his friends are off-Key and we only have the one car, and he’s getting to an age where he’s starting to feel like he’s missing out on things?” She sighed. “He wants me to leave him with his grandmother, Orry’s mom, on the mainland during the week, but I… I’d miss him, you know? So it’s nice that there’ll be things for him to do here?”
I swallowed. “Taffy, you’re a great mom. And Max will appreciate that when he’s older.”
“You think?” She looked deeply skeptical, but pleased nevertheless. “Just how old?”
“Eh. By thirty-five, for sure.”
She laughed and smacked me lightly on the upper arm as she went to join Max. “You’re welcome to join us, if video games are your thing.”
“Oh, I…” I noticed that the Mary Anna was docked at the pier and Fenn’s Charger was parked in a spot over by Goodmen Outfitters. Shit. “Rain check, Taffy! And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”
“Um.” Taffy frowned. “Okay, I guess? See you Monday?”
I didn’t return the goodbye. I ran across the street as fast as I could and threw open the door to the Concha.
“Doc Mason!” Juju called out when I stepped into the blessedly cold air. “How are ya?”
I really wished she’d kept her voice down.
Lety’s place was tiny and homey. But this meant every time Juju greeted someone—which she did literally every time the door opened—the entire restaurant turned and greeted them, too.
“Dr. Mason!” Lety wiped her hands on the plain apron covering her brightly patterned dress and gave me a smile as I slid onto a stool in front of the counter. “You come for me to decide what you need for lunch?”
I grinned back, feeling some of my anxiety slip away. If you’d asked me, a month ago, whether I could fall in love with a restaurant so tiny it didn’t even have a menu, I’d have said it was impossible. But I’d lived on Whispering Key for a week and a bit now, and already this had become routine. I walked into Lety’s place every afternoon, she’d look me up and down like she was making a diagnosis, and then she’d prescribe me exactly what I needed. “I think the pulique today,” she’d say. Or, “Ahhh, today is for chile rellenos.”
It was mostly for show, really, because I knew she only had a couple of items cooking on any given day, but it felt nice to have someone looking out for me. And every single time, the food was amazing. Some of the best I’d ever eaten. Complex and richly flavored, not nearly as spicy as I’d expected, just… comforting.
“Today I made you something extra special,” she told me. “I woke up this morning and my shoulder was perfect. Must be the medicine you gave me. I’m like a young lady again! So I said, I need to make caldo de gallina for Doc Mason. And I made it with extra love in there for you. Okay?”
“Caldo de gallina,” I repeated carefully. “Soup of… something.”
“Hen.” She nodded. “You’re getting better, mijo. Nothing better for a hot day than hot soup. And this is a lucky soup, too. Justo lo que se necesita para dar la vuelta a la tortilla. Okay?”
I nodded sagely. I didn’t understand a word she’d said, except the part about tortillas, and I was 97 percent sure whatever she’d said had nothing to do with actual tortillas. But Lety never translated her wise words to me, and I never asked either. Sometimes it was enough to know that someone cared enough to offer life advice, without expecting you to actually take it.
“That sounds delicious. But, um.” I eyed the door. “Maybe could I take it to go?”
Lety pursed her lips and studied me again. One side of her mouth twisted up in a smile. “Sure, mijo. Two minutes.”
Gloria Frye got up from her table and tottered over to slide onto the stool beside mine, wobbly as a newborn foal in her high heels.
“Doc Mason,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m doing okay. Gloria, we talked about those shoes.”
“I know,” she said. “I know we did.” She bit her lip. “They’re just so darn pretty. And they make me feel
pretty. I’m weak that way.”
I shook my head but laughed, too. I mean, not that I knew a damn thing about enjoying something that was bad for you, right?
“How’ve you been feeling?” I asked.
“Oh, alright! Just the heat takes it out of me, same as ever. Might be alright if I lost a few more pounds, too.” She winked. “Think I’m on the right track, though. Down another pound and a half this week.”
I blinked, my attention completely diverted. “Gloria, maybe you should come see me again. I’d like to run a couple more tests.”
“I’d love to, sweetie, but I can’t this week. Big Rafe’s got me running all over creation, helping him put together the Extravaganza. He says I’m his right-hand woman.” She blushed in a way I’d bet had nothing to do with the weather, though she laughed and fanned her face anyway before toying with the bow on the front of her short-sleeved pink sweater.
Really. Big Rafe and Gloria? Stranger things had happened. But I wondered if Fenn…
I stopped the thought in its tracks. “I wonder if Fenn” was no longer gonna be a song on my playlist.
“But I’d really like it if you did.” I gave her what I hoped was a winning smile. “I’ll even squeeze you in today, if you could. In, say, an hour?”
“Anything for you, Doc.” She blushed deeper. “Maybe two hours? I’m meeting with Big Rafe in a minute.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “See you then.”
The little bell over the front door jangled. “Heya, everyone!” Beale called.
Gloria, Juju, Lety, and I all sang back, “Heya, Beale!” and waved at the exact same moment. I froze.
It was bad enough that the rest of the town was synchronized. When had I suddenly joined the chorus?
Beale strolled over and took the stool on my other side. “Heya, Mason.”
I kept one anxious eye focused on the door, expecting Fenn to walk through any minute, but really, there was no way to avoid him if he did unless I was prepared to do a barrel roll over the counter and beg Lety to hide me, which I wasn’t. Quite.
I forced my attention to Beale. “Hey. How’s the shoulder?”
“Better.”
“You doing the stretches? Or do you need me to show them to you again?”
“Welllll.” Beale cast his eyes to the ceiling. “I feel like that wouldn’t be the best idea for my health.”
I frowned. “The stretches won’t hurt you.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but somebody else might,” he said incomprehensibly. “So, um, what are you doing with your afternoon?”
“Oh. Gonna put in a few hours at the office, I think. Super busy,” I added just in case Fenn asked him later. “Like, so busy. No time for socializing at all. Why, what’s going on with you? You and, um, Fenn were working today, right? You have plans for later?” So I could avoid them.
“Me?” The corners of Beale’s mouth turned down in an exaggerated frown. “Nope. And I definitely don’t know what Fenn is doing either! Everyone thinks I’m a shit secret-keeper, so no one tells me anything!”
I blinked. What did that mean? Did Fenn think I was gonna be pumping Beale for information? Pfft. Fenn was the one texting me, for goodness’ sake!
I was tempted to reply just to tell him to fuck off.
“I’ll refrain from asking about Fenn,” I said stiffly. “Shouldn’t be hard. He’s not that interesting.”
Beale rubbed one giant hand over his mouth. “Do you believe in karma, Mase?” Beale asked, apropos of nothing. “Because I’m concerned that I’m enjoying a certain situation just a little too much. The backlash might be brutal.”
“Enjoying… Oh.” I recalled what Fenn had said earlier about Beale being in love. I leaned toward him. “Let me guess. Are you enjoying a certain romantic situation?” I gave him an encouraging smile.
Beale looked surprised. “Actually… yeah. That’s exactly it.”
“Don’t be upset, but Fenn let something slip earlier today. About you being in love with someone,” I explained, when Beale frowned.
Beale’s head went back, and he folded his arms over his enormous chest. “Did he now?”
I nodded and laid a hand on his arm. “Look, he only shared it because I told him I liked you a lot, and I thought you were a really great person. Sweet.”
“You said that?” Beale grinned. “Yep. That’d do it, alright.”
“I won’t tell another soul, but I’m so glad things are working out for you. And this romance… it’s definitely love?” It wasn’t that I was nosy, per se, I just hated not knowing anything. Ever.
“Oh, yup. I definitely love one of the guys,” Beale agreed. “Even though he’s a lying sack of shit, I’d take a bullet for him.”
I blinked. There were many things to focus on here.
“One of them?” I repeated. “There’s more than one guy?”
Beale sucked his top lip between his teeth and nodded, his blue eyes shining. “The other guy’s really nice, too. I like him a lot. Great style. Braver than he looks. I think things are gonna work out just fine.”
“Well… good.” I blinked some more. “That’s… good, Beale. Look, if you need to talk—”
“Soup is ready, Dr. Mason!” Lety said from behind me.
Beale winked. “You’d best go get to work, hmm?”
“I… I guess, yeah.” I recalled suddenly that I was supposed to be avoiding Fenn, anyway. “Catch you later?”
“You know it.”
Huh. First Rafe and Gloria. Now Beale in a poly relationship. I wondered if Fenn…
Gah. I needed to stop.
I took a breath and blew it out, then gave Juju some cash and walked outside. Fenn’s car was still parked in the lot by Goodmen Outfitters, but I didn’t see him on the street. I checked my phone, but he hadn’t texted me again, which was probably for the best, and not the sort of thing I should be irrationally disappointed about.
Jesus, Mason, make up your mind.
I scurried across the street to the rec center, ran up the stairs, unlocked the door, darted into my office, and quickly closed the door behind me.
Safe.
For now, anyway.
From behind me came the sound of rustling paper, and I whirled around, clapping a hand to my chest and nearly dropping my bag of food in the process.
There, sprawled out on the exam table with one hand stacked behind his head, one hand on his chest, and his booted feet crossed at the ankles, lay Fenn Reardon.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Fenn’s eyes widened like I was the crazy one in the room. “Uh. This is the doctor’s office, isn’t it? I’m here to see the doctor. Obviously.”
My heart beat crazy-fast, and only part of that was from shock. He was wearing the same threadbare T-shirt he’d been wearing last week.
I had distinctly fonder feelings about it now.
“How did you get in when the door was locked?”
“Was it locked? Hmm. I can’t really remember. I might have been in a fugue state. Which is why I need a doctor.”
“It’s a Saturday,” I informed him, setting my bag of food on the desk. “I only work Saturdays in emergencies.”
Fenn’s blue, blue eyes met mine, and though he didn’t smile, they crinkled at the corners with amusement and something hotter. Something that made my stomach swoop. “This is definitely an emergency.”
I forced myself to look away. “You’d better tell me about your symptoms, then. You look okay, to me.”
“Look closer,” he invited.
I bit my lip. My fucking hands were shaking. What was this thing between us? Lust? Attraction?
Stimulus was sure as fuck not stimulus. What an idiot I’d been.
What an idiot I continued to be.
I grabbed my stethoscope from my desk and looped it around my neck, then turned toward him. He didn’t move a muscle. Even his breathing was shallow.
I laid my palm lightly against his forehead. Our skin was the same temperature,
but Fenn shivered anyway and his eyes blinked shut.
“No sign of fever,” I said softly.
I brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, then trailed my fingers down the sides of his face to the hinge of his stubbled jaw, and lower still, until I could feel his Adam’s apple jerking convulsively as he swallowed.
“Everything feels normal.” My voice was loud in the silent room, and my hand came to rest near his on his chest. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been experiencing.”
Fenn’s eyes met mine. “Well. For one thing, I can’t concentrate for shit. I’ve been hallucinating. I’m hungry, but not for food. And I’ve had… tachy-things. In my heart.”
I pursed my lips. Fuck, he could be adorable. “How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?”
“To be honest, it hasn’t really gone away since last night, Mason. But certain things have made it worse.”
Mason.
I slid the stethoscope into my ears and pressed the chestpiece to his T-shirt with one palm, while I slid the other along the hard plane of his abs. The quick, steady lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub in my ears did funny things to my own heartbeat.
I took my stethoscope off and inhaled sharply. I could almost taste the soap-clean scent of him. “What sorts of things have made it worse?”
He moved his hand from behind his head to thread with mine atop his chest. “Thinking about you. Trying not to think about you. Seeing you earlier. Seeing you now. Hearing your voice.”
“B-but—”
“Then there was this…” His fingers held on to mine when I tried to pull away, to get a little space, and I saw that he was holding his phone in his other hand. He swiped it open with his thumb. “‘No hashtags. No apologies. No explanations.’ That’s a heck of a caption.”
I swallowed, looking from the picture of us on his screen—the picture I’d posted—to his eyes, to our joined hands. “You gave me the words. Accidentally.”
“I know.”
“But I didn’t post that for you. It wasn’t because of the dare.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t expect you to ever see it.”
“I know.”