Risking It All

by Jennifer Schmidt

  But because of him she was different. Kennedy didn’t settle for less than what she wanted now. She went after it and refused to give up until she got it. There was no second-guessing if what she was doing with her career was really the smartest decision for her to make. She still carried with her the lesson he had taught her long ago about being who she wanted to be, not who people expected her to be.

  He had been a part of her life for almost twelve years, and she couldn’t picture a life without him in it.

  Kennedy sighed, snapping herself back to the present as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed a hoodie to throw on over top of that to keep the chill away. She took her phone off the nightstand, brushing her fingers along the bottom of the picture frame that held the photo of her and the other man in her life.

  Ian Brooks was the opposite of Memphis in so many ways. Brooks, as he was known by all his friends, was the head neurosurgeon at Vancouver General Hospital. Both men were hardworking and passionate about what they did, but Brooks played it safe. He was focused on his career and had made it his life since he entered med school. At forty-two he was thirteen years older than Kennedy and one of the most respected doctors in his field.

  They had met two years ago when Memphis had been brought into the ER after skidding out of control on his motorcycle while driving too fast in the rain. Thankfully, he hadn’t been badly hurt, a few minor scrapes and bruises and a concussion.

  It had been the most terrifying moment of Kennedy’s life—receiving the call the night Memphis had been in the motorcycle accident. He had put her down as his emergency contact person years ago, but until that night Kennedy never thought she would ever need the title. Memphis was invincible, or at least he was to her.

  She had rushed to the hospital that night not knowing any details of his condition until she arrived and found him charming the nurses with his charisma. Very typical of him.

  Suddenly the knowledge that Memphis, not only her best friend but the only person in her life she ever completely trusted and needed, could have been seriously injured hit her hard.

  And that had been when she fainted.

  When she had come to, she was in lying in a hospital bed. She had sat up too quickly and the blood had drained from her head and she’d grown dizzy again, but two strong hands had steadied her before she fell back onto the bed.

  “Whoa, there,” said the tender masculine voice. “You need to take it a little slower.”

  She looked up, startled that the voice didn’t belong to Memphis like she had expected.

  The man was dressed in a white coat with the name Dr. Brooks scrawled in black lettering over the breast. She slowly raised her eyes back to his and swallowed, nodding slowly. What she was nodding to she couldn’t remember, but she felt like it was the right thing to do, like he was expecting some kind of reaction from her.

  Dr. Brooks smiled back at her and explained that he had been walking by the nurses’ station when she fainted.

  “You’ve given your boyfriend quite the scare,” he said, checking her pupils with a penlight. “If we hadn’t threatened the use of restraints on him when he wouldn’t stay in bed, I’m sure he’d be in here now.” He grinned, letting her know he was teasing about the restraints.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she replied. “We’re friends.” And then she remembered why she was in the hospital in the first place. “Is he okay?” she asked, suddenly feeling frantic.

  Dr. Brooks pulled away from examining her and nodded.

  “He’s fine. Little bumped and bruised, probably will be sore for the next few days, but he’ll be fine. He’s very lucky,” he added.

  “Fucking motorcycle,” she mumbled, and blushed at her use of foul language in front of the attractive doctor.

  He laughed and Kennedy smiled at the sound. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye, trying to check him out discreetly. She guessed he was a little shorter than Memphis, maybe five-ten or so. He kept his chestnut-brown hair short and had green eyes. She noticed a small scar above his top lip and wondered how he got it. And glancing at the way he filled out his white coat, she could tell he probably worked out. She quickly peeked at the chart he was writing on and saw he was left-handed with a bare ring finger.

  Dr. Brooks dropped the pen into the pocket of his jacket and handed the chart to the nurse.

  “I would have to agree with you, Kennedy.”

  Her nipples hardened at the way his husky voice said her name and her blush deepened. She wrapped her arms around herself, hoping he would think she had a chill and not notice how her body reacted to him.

  “You’re free to go see your . . . friend,” he told her. “Hopefully, we won’t have to run into each other again under these circumstances,” he added with a charming smile, and left.

  Kennedy still got butterflies when she thought of that night and meeting the handsome Dr. Brooks. Two days later flowers had arrived at her apartment with an invitation to dinner the next night. When she first found out, she had been a little surprised and unsettled by the age difference, but Brooks had way of putting her at ease in a way that only Memphis had ever managed, and she quickly forgot about the age gap.

  Brooks wined and dined her when his schedule allowed it. Every moment he wasn’t at the hospital he was calling her to make plans of some kind: a picnic in the park, a weekend sailing, a day touring museums. The beginning of their relationship had been fun and exciting. But it wasn’t just the places Brooks took her or the expensive gifts he bought her that made her fall fast and hard for him. It was the little things.

  Kennedy smiled as she remembered one night four months into their relationship when she called him in tears, panicked and terrified because she had spotted a mouse in her kitchen. Usually it was Memphis she would call but he was away on an assignment and she was terrified to spend the night alone with the rodent hiding somewhere in her apartment. She felt foolish and knew it was such a girlie thing to get upset over, but Brooks arrived—mouse traps in hand—and went about setting them up. From her perch on the couch she listened as he called out where he was placing them so she wouldn’t accidently trigger one with her toes.

  The next morning she was cooking breakfast when she felt something scurry over her bare foot and looked down just in time to see the little white fur ball hurry across the floor. Her scream probably woke the neighbors, and Brooks came bounding into the kitchen, half-dressed and half-asleep with her umbrella poised as a sword ready to defend her honor against the intruder he assumed was after her.

  Seeing him standing in his boxers, hair standing on end, eyes wide from fear of the unknown with that damn purple umbrella struck her as funny, and she burst into hysterics, doubling over as the laughter rocked her body and made it almost impossible to breathe.

  That was the moment she fell in love with him.

  They had been together for two years, and while everything was pretty good for the most part, they’d definitely had their share of bumps along the way.

  One bump in particular she was sure she would never be able to fix.

  Kennedy frowned as she looked at the picture of her and Brooks and then shifted her eyes to the other framed photo of her and Memphis. The men in her life didn’t care much for each other. They were always polite to one another and didn’t make it difficult for her, but she knew how they each felt.

  Memphis thought Brooks was too old for her and worried his career would always come before her in the long run. Brooks was unnerved by the fact she had a male best friend, mainly because he figured Memphis harbored secret sexual feelings toward her.

  Kennedy had laughed when Brooks had told her that, explaining the day on the beach where they cemented their friendship and that there had never been anything sexual between them. He grumbled that it sounded like a clever plan of reverse psychology, but dropped the subject, choosing to believe her since it had been twelve years and nothing had happened between them.

  She wished both men would learn to a
ccept the other, but as long as they weren’t trying to make her choose between the two of them she could deal with their misgivings toward each other. They both knew how important they were to her, and the last thing she wanted was a tug-of-war over her affection.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, Kennedy practically skipped to the living room, the smile from earlier back on her face when she thought about seeing her best friend again. Memphis had been gone almost a week, and the odd phone call and random text weren’t enough to keep her from missing him.

  Kennedy glanced quickly at the clock; Memphis would be buzzing up at any second. She was about to grab her purse and go downstairs to meet him when she smelled freshly made coffee. She poked her head into the kitchen to find a full pot and a folded piece of paper next to a mug on the counter.

  Didn’t want to wake you. Had to head to the hospital early. See you tonight, hopefully in something like that little black number you wore last night.

  -B

  Kennedy stared at the words, feeling both annoyed and disappointed. He expected her to be at home ready and willing to do whatever he pleased, and he couldn’t take two minutes to wake her before taking off for work. Especially when he had just gotten back from a conference the night before and they hadn’t spoken more than five words to each other. They had been too busy doing other things.

  Kennedy crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash just as her intercom buzzed. She hurried to the door where the intercom was and pressed the button, mumbling, “I’m coming,” into the speaker.

  “Hurry your ass, woman. I’m hungry,” Memphis replied, his voice light and teasing.

  Kennedy smiled. The annoyance and disappointment Brooks made her feel quickly disappeared when she heard her best friend’s voice.

  She grabbed her bag and hurried out the door and to the elevator, drumming her fingers impatiently against her hip as she waited for the doors to open and take her down. As soon as the lift stopped on the main floor, Kennedy slid past the doors before they were fully opened and rushed outside.

  Two strong arms scooped her up and twirled her in a circle the second she was outside, making her laugh.

  “Damn, I missed you, woman!” Memphis said as he set her down, a huge smile on his face.

  “I missed you, too.” She held onto his hands and stepped back, looking him over as if she hadn’t seen him in years. “Looks like someone got some sun.”

  “It’s hard not to get some sun in the Caribbean.” He chuckled.

  She tugged his hand and pulled him toward his Harley—the Hayabusa had been retired years ago. “Come on. I want to hear all about your trip.”

  Kennedy wrapped her arms around his waist as the motorcycle roared to life and they shot out of the parking lot into the busy street. She closed her eyes when they zipped past cars, still slightly nervous about riding on the bike even after all this time, but especially since Memphis had his accident. Thankfully he knew how she felt and never pushed the limits too far when she rode shotgun.

  She rested her head against his back and smiled, enjoying the feeling of him wrapped in her arms. Kennedy could feel the muscles in his back bunching, twisting this way and that as he maneuvered the machine through the city streets. She hugged him tighter, snuggling as close as she could get against his back.

  As dangerous as she feared the bike was, she had to admit it was also the most exhilarating thing she’d ever experienced. It thrilled her to be straddling so much power, to feel the engine’s vibrations against the inside of her thighs. Who didn’t want to be on the back of a Harley? Riding a big, bad bike and hanging onto a big, bad boy? This was something she could only share with Memphis. There was no one else she trusted enough not to turn her into roadkill.

  Well, maybe Brooks. But he wouldn’t be caught dead going over the speed limit, never mind driving a motorcycle.

  Kennedy chuckled to herself thinking how vanilla Brooks was compared to Memphis. Maybe that was part of the reason Brooks wasn’t comfortable with her and Memphis’s friendship. Perhaps it had very little to do with jealousy but more to do with him feeling he didn’t measure up to her badass best friend.

  Before Kennedy could ponder that further, Memphis made a sharp turn and pulled up next to their favorite diner.

  He grinned at Kennedy as he pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm.

  “Nothing like that first morning rush, huh?”

  Kennedy carefully untangled her hair from the helmet, wincing as the strands got caught and ripped from her scalp.

  “We really have to get me a different helmet.” She rubbed her sore head.

  “And ditch ol’ red?” He patted the faded red helmet. “That would be like losing a friend.”

  “I don’t like friends who pull my hair,” she replied, hopping off the bike.

  Memphis smiled mischievously and reached up to give one of her black locks a gentle tug.

  “A little hair pulling can be fun,” he murmured.

  Kennedy rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away. Memphis laughed and grabbed her hand, sliding his fingers in between hers so they were palm to palm. He didn’t let her hand go until they were seated at the table across from each other.

  To anyone else the gesture would seem intimate and give the impression there was more to them than platonic friendship. But Memphis grabbing for her hand was normal and natural; it had been since a few months after their friendship had formed. Out of nowhere one day he took her hand while strolling through the park, and she knew without him having to explain that it wasn’t meant to be anything for her to overthink. He wasn’t declaring some hidden desire for her or the urge to up their friendship a notch; he was just holding her hand. Nothing more.

  “So how was it?” Kennedy asked after their orders had been taken.

  “It was great.” Memphis beamed and leaned back against the booth. “I think they might be the best shots I’ve taken yet.”

  “Really? Better than Alaska? I loved those pictures.”

  Memphis was a freelance photographer. He mostly did work for Hot Spots, a travel magazine, capturing the beauty of places all over the world, enticing those to book their next vacation wherever he had just been.

  Kennedy was envious of all the places he had been able to visit. Memphis’s passport got more action than a half-price call girl. But of all the places he had been, Alaska was the one she envied the most.

  Living in a city where it rained most of the year and snow was a rarity, she loved looking at the pictures Memphis had taken during one of his trips there. He had a gift of bringing the life out in photos, making you feel as if you were right there experiencing it with him.

  When Kennedy saw the winter wonderland in Memphis’s photographs, she started saving every extra penny she could to make that her first vacation destination. She didn’t care where she went or what she did; she just wanted to be there.

  “Okay, Alaska was the best I’ve taken, but these come damn close,” he said. He propped his elbows on the table and leaned closer to her. “Speaking of Alaska, I’ve got some news.”

  Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

  “What kind of news?”

  The waitress chose that moment to bring their coffee, leaning closer to Memphis than necessary and making sure her surgically enhanced breasts were eye level when she poured the hot beverage.

  Kennedy watched her drop a napkin into Memphis’s lap before moving onto the next table, not even giving Kennedy a second glance over her actions—as if it were unimaginable that a guy like Memphis would be involved with her romantically.

  Memphis picked the napkin up and flipped it over, chuckling at whatever it said before bunching it into a ball and tossing it onto the table.

  “Another fan?” Kennedy asked dryly. “What would Vivian say?”

  “Veronica. Vivian was last month,” Memphis corrected with a teasing tone. “And we’re through.”

  “Wow. That lasted almost two weeks. That has to be a record for you.” She picked up her
coffee cup and took a swallow, burning her tongue and throat in the process.

  “Another twenty-four hours and it would have broken the record,” he replied, grinning at her bitchy remark.

  Kennedy set down the cup.

  “What news?” she asked again to get back on topic. She wasn’t in the mood to discuss Memphis’s concubines.

  “A job offer for a resort opening up there,” he told her, the napkin and eager waitress forgotten. “They want publicity, something that will draw in the tourists from the larger cities.”

  “If you tell me you’re moving to Alaska I’ll drown you in your coffee,” Kennedy threatened.

  Memphis chuckled.

  “No. I’m not moving to Alaska, but I am going to be up there for at least a week getting the shots I need and a feel for the place. They’ve offered to put me up for as long as I need.”

  “Wow. That’s great, Memphis.”

  Her heart sank that he was able to go back to her dream place. She always hoped that when she was finally able to afford a real vacation, Memphis would join her there. Brooks wasn’t interested in vacationing anywhere that wasn’t directly across from Vancouver General.

  “What’s the resort?” she asked, trying to show interest instead of jealousy at his good fortune.

  “Spruce Falls.” He grinned at her slyly. “That’s not the best part.”

  “What’s the best part?” Kennedy asked with pout.

  “I offered them a deal. I’ll lower my fee some if they throw in a package deal for two.”

  Kennedy stared at him blankly, not fully comprehending what he was saying.

  “Kennedy, I want you to come with me,” he told her.

  “To Alaska?” she asked.

  “Yes, to Alaska.” He laughed. “You’ve wanted to go forever and this is your chance. It’s practically free, Kennedy. All you need is spending money; everything else is taken care of through the resort.”