by Cate Ashwood
“I didn’t do anything. This was all Logan.”
“I don’t buy that, and I don’t think you believe it either. Maybe he wanted me to take the job too, but you didn’t stand in his way and you could have. He would have deferred to you.”
I shook my head and attempted a smile. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. You would have had final say.”
“Technically, you had final say.”
This time I got a laugh. “That’s true. And I said yes. Weird, right?”
“Yeah. A little. I didn’t think you would. You seemed to hate it here.” I glanced at him, just for a moment, wanting to see his reaction as much as I heard it.
“I hate the snow.” His emphasis was lost a little bit with the slurring. “But there’s other things here that I don’t mind so much.” The way he waggled his eyebrows was so exaggerated it was impossible to miss his meaning.
“What made you want to stay?”
I held my breath, the word “you” forming in my head.
“My father.”
That hadn’t been the answer I’d been expecting. “Not sure I’m following you.”
“Since before I can remember, my father’s been pushing me to be great, but his definition of greatness is narrow. There was never any mistaking it, though. Since I was little, I knew that my path in life was to become a surgeon.”
“And you did.”
“Yep. I became a motherfucking awesome surgeon, but it still wasn’t enough for him. I had to be the best of the best, and so I pushed and pushed and I narrowed my field of study, and as soon as I could, I took a position at Westbridge. I’d convinced myself that was the best thing for me, the place with the most opportunity for growth, for advancement.”
“You weren’t wrong. Westbridge would have been an incredible opportunity for any surgeon starting out.”
I could see him nodding out of the corner of my eye. “And for any other surgeon, yeah, it’s amazing. But I’ve always wondered if I were anyone else if I would have been offered the job.”
“I’ve seen you operate. You deserve that job.”
“I dunno. I went to Stanford. I was admitted by the same dean of admissions as my father. I studied under many of the same professors. My attending was a friend of the family. Would I have made it through without him? Would I have become who I am without him?”
“I think so,” I said, trying to assure him, and because it was the truth. “Being a Prescott opened doors for you, but you’re the one who worked your ass off to walk through them. If you didn’t have the skills, if you hadn’t put in the time and sweat and effort, you woulda been kicked out. Nepotism is just as prevalent in medicine as it is in anything else, but I truly believe it only goes so far.”
“I guess we’ll see.” He sighed and shifted in his seat, letting his head fall back against the headrest. “This is the first time I’ve broken out on my own, the first time I’ve accomplished something by my own merit. I know my father won’t see this as a victory, but being successful here will prove to myself that I’m capable without him.”
I reached over and gave his knee a gentle squeeze. “You’ve already proven that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“How do I look?” I asked, spinning around so Gage could get the full effect.
We were on our way to the fundraiser a few people had organized to help cover the costs of rebuilding the arena. Someone had decided that making it themed would draw more of a crowd, and that someone had chosen the ’80s.
I’d attempted to go all-out for the event but procuring authentic ’80s rock fashion in a place like Sawyer’s Ferry had proven to be nearly impossible. After scouring the single thrift shop in town, I’d settled for leopard-print spandex pants, a faded AC/DC T-shirt, a leather jacket with some fringe, and a buttload of eyeliner. I’d managed to find a wig at the last minute at the gas station mini-mart of all places, and I’d hair-sprayed it to within an inch of ruining it completely. Overall, I thought the effect was pretty damn good, if I did say so myself.
Gage’s clothing choice was a bit more subdued—torn jeans and a Frankie Says Relax T-shirt equated to the minimal effort possible to still be on theme.
I spun again so he could take another look. “Seriously, do I look okay?”
“No. But I think that’s the point.”
I flipped him off. “At least I put some effort into my outfit. Yours barely passes.”
He stalked forward and slid his hands over my ass and hauled me against him, kissing me thoroughly before pulling back. “It’s just the wig. Covers too much of your face. But if you wanted to do that eyeliner thing a little more often around the house, I wouldn’t be totally opposed.”
I yelped as he squeezed my ass, hard. “If you say so…”
He kissed me again and then stepped away, leaving me seriously dazed. The way that man made me feel sometimes… he was my own personal case of vertigo.
The last two months had passed by in a blur. Gage and I had settled into a routine, passing like ships on working days and spending most of our time on days off holed up in his house. The sex was intense and frequent, and as the days ticked down to when I would make my inevitable exit from Sawyer’s Ferry, I became more and more restless.
The longer I spent with him, no matter what we were doing, the harder I found myself falling for him. Sitting with our feet up on the coffee table watching the news, or sorting laundry, or making dinner—it made no difference. When I looked at him, I felt physically different, like being with him changed me all the way down to the genetic level.
And that was a giant fucking problem.
I did my best not to think about it, to ignore the fact that in a month, I’d be getting on a plane and leaving my heart behind.
Unless I didn’t…
But a little over two months of a kind-of-sort-of relationship with a guy was pretty fucking quick to be making life-altering decisions around him.
“We should get a move on. I think we’re already fashionably late,” Gage said.
“Well, one of us is fashionable.”
He smoothed his hands down over his chest. “Why, thank you.”
I glared at him. “I didn’t mean you.”
Huey Lewis and the News’ “Power of Love” was playing loud enough that we could hear it from the parking lot, and I couldn’t help but move to the music as I climbed out of Gage’s truck.
I loved ’80s music.
The high school gym had been decorated for the event, and I imagined that if I’d graduated from high school twenty years earlier—and hadn’t attended an all-boys boarding school—this is what my senior prom would have looked like.
“This is amazing.” I didn’t know where to look first. Half the room had been set up with tables and chairs, while the other half was reserved for dancing. Against one wall, there was a space for photos, complete with a balloon arch and a backdrop that looked like a flattened disco ball.
“Pretty sure Glenna spearheaded this whole project,” Gage said.
The name sounded familiar. I searched my memory until something came to me. “The woman from the airport?”
“That’s her. She sings in an ’80s tribute band a couple times a month over in Juneau.”
“That’s incredible. Is she singing tonight?”
“She is.” The voice came from behind me, and I turned to see Jane walking toward us. “She and the band are on a little after eight.”
“That dress is perfect,” I said, taking in the sight of her.
She did a little curtsy in her electric-blue sequined and ruffled number. “Dug this outta my closet if you can believe that.” I didn’t want to tell her I could. Instead, I pretended to be shocked, and she beamed. “I wore this to my prom in 1987. It’s a little tighter than it used to be, but I managed to get the zipper up.”
I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jane’s cheek. “You look gorgeous.”
“I knew I liked you,” she said, grinning
. “You guys had a chance to look around yet?”
Gage shook his head. “We just got here. Holden took forever to get his makeup on.”
“Eyeliner’s a bitch to get on evenly,” Jane agreed. “But you did a good job. Very Billy Idol.”
I nudged Gage’s shoulder with mine. “See? At least someone appreciates the effort I put in.”
“I told you how I felt about the eyeliner.” His voice was low and gravelly, and there was no mistaking his tone. I nearly blushed. It was the voice he usually reserved for when I was pinned down and naked under him.
He held me with his gaze, and I couldn’t look away.
Jane cleared her throat. “Anyways…” Her half smile made it obvious she hadn’t missed a thing. “You should check out the silent auction. There’s some good stuff.”
“We definitely will,” I assured her. “I’m sure he won’t mind if I go on a little shopping spree with his bank account.”
“The hockey team probably wouldn’t mind either,” she said.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Although Gabe crossed his arms over his chest, I could tell he wasn’t annoyed. I held the unique ability to push him to his limits of irritation, and this didn’t even register on the scale.
“Nope.” I grabbed his hand. “Let’s go buy some stuff.”
“You boys have fun. I’ll see ya in a bit,” Jane said.
I tossed her a little wave. “Promise you’ll save a dance for me.”
Jane took the stage shortly after dinner to introduce the band. It was like a time warp as they walked on, all five of them perfectly crimped, teased, and hair-sprayed. Glenna beamed, taking the center position, and the crowd cheered. The intro to of “I Think We’re Alone Now” played, and the cheering amplified. I was already pleasantly buzzed, and the night was beginning to take on a fuzzy, nostalgic kind of glow.
I stared at the crowd of people on the dance floor, my eyes a little unfocused. It was a blur of sequins and spandex, but beneath all the retro fashion was a huge group of people I was grateful to have met. Even when I’d been completing my internship and residency, I’d never known any of my patients. I’d never even acknowledged my neighbors before. Hell, until I’d come to Sawyer’s Ferry, I’d never bothered to get to know the people I worked with, outside of a strictly professional capacity.
But here, there was something about this place that made everything seem personal. My time so far had passed more quickly than I thought possible, but somehow, I’d embedded myself in the fabric of the town, and the people who lived here had left their marks on me too.
“Mind if I collect on that promise of a dance now?” Jane asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I stood and offered my arm. “I’d be honored.”
I led her to the dance floor and spun her into my arms with as much flourish as I could manage in the tightly packed space. She slid her arms around my neck, her head tilted back as she laughed. “You boys having fun?”
“We are. I think Gage would have preferred to send a check, but now that we’re here, I think he’s having fun… even if he’d never admit it.”
“I have no doubt that’s exactly what he would have done if you hadn’t goaded him into coming.”
“Who said there was goading?”
She squinted at me like if she looked hard enough she could see right through my bullshit. “I may not have known you for long, Holden Prescott, but who do you think you’re trying to fool?”
“He might have come…”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced. “But he wouldn’t have had a very good time, and he wouldn’t have had anyone to look at like that.” I spun us around so I could see Gage, still sitting where I’d left him. He was watching us—or more accurately, me—his eyes focused so intently on me there was no mistaking where he was looking.
My stomach fluttered under his gaze. Even beneath the sweeping blue and purple light and dressed in acid-wash denim, he was so goddamn beautiful. I watched him for several long moments, the sound of the synth swirling around me like the dream sequence from a movie made in 1982.
“Holden…” I tore my attention off Gage and back to Jane, who was clearly laughing at me and not with me. “The song’s over.”
“Oh.” I stopped moving. “Right. Sorry.”
“C’mon.” She tilted her head toward the tables. “Let’s get you back to Gage before everyone else in the room notices the way you’re mentally undressing each other.”
I grinned. “Let’s go.”
When we returned to the table, Gage was talking to Barrett Anderson, the man who owned the brewery near the docks. I’d met him in passing once or twice when he was delivering kegs to Jane. He was a nice guy and, as far as I knew, straight, but I couldn’t help the little flare of jealousy I felt seeing them leaned in toward each other.
It was stupid, and I felt like a fucking caveman, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of Gage with someone else… I didn’t want to entertain the idea, even though there was a part of me that knew one day…
My stomach churned.
I caught Gage’s gaze, and something flashed between us.
Instantly, Barrett was forgotten.
That familiar heat was back in Gage’s eyes as he stood. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
I let him lead me to the dance floor. He gathered me into his arms, and we swayed to the music. It was the first time we’d been out in public together in a way that was obviously romantic. The few dinners we’d shared could have been interpreted by onlookers as two friends having a meal.
There was no mistaking this.
I didn’t know how liberal the people in Sawyer’s Ferry were, but Gage didn’t seem concerned, and that was good enough for me. Frankly, I didn’t care that much about other people, especially not when Gage was touching me like he was, his hips swaying with mine, his hand splayed across my back.
When he leaned in and softly kissed me, the realization of how I felt about him slammed into me. I was in love with him. I was so goddamn in love with him it was difficult to breathe. The massiveness of the way I felt about him almost crushed me.
I just needed to figure out what I was going to do about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“What’s so important you needed to meet me right now?” Logan whined. “I’ve been up for twenty-one hours. I have amniotic fluid on the bottoms of my shoes. I stink. I just wanna go to Pacey’s, pick up an extra-large pepperoni with olives, and go home.”
I threw back my drink and set my glass on the bar. Two weeks had passed since the fundraiser, and I’d been struggling with how I felt about Holden since. Actually, long before then, if I were being completely honest with myself. But when we were dancing, something had clicked into place for me, and enough time had gone by that I could be certain it wasn’t a passing thing.
“I think I’m in love with him.”
“Pacey?”
“No. Jesus Christ, Logan.” I sighed, shaking my head. I wanted to punch him. I wasn’t sure if he was being purposely obtuse. Logan was usually fairly intuitive, especially when it came to me. “Holden. I think I’m in love with Holden.”
He gaped at me. “I cannot believe it.”
“You can’t believe I’m in love with Holden?”
“No,” Logan said, his voice dripping with disbelief. “No, I can’t believe you’re really this thick-headed.”
“What?”
“It cannot have seriously taken you this fucking long to figure out you’re stupid in love with Holden.” He rolled his eyes. “The whole rest of Sawyer’s Fucking Ferry has known forever.”
It was my turn to be confused.
“You’re seriously the last one to figure this out, aren’t you? I thought you were too stubborn to admit it to him, but you had no idea, did you?”
I was still stuck on what he’d said a minute ago. My brain was working through the list of people I knew. “The whole town?”
“Well, maybe not all ten thousa
nd people, but everyone who’s seen you two together. Rosemary. Barrett. Definitely Jane. The whole hospital staff. Most of the patients—”
“I get the picture.”
“So what are you gonna do about it?”
“I don’t know. His contract is up in two weeks. He hasn’t mentioned going back to New York, but he hasn’t said anything about staying either.”
“Why haven’t you asked him what he wants to do?”
I needed another drink. I motioned to Jane. “I didn’t want to think about it. I had enough trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I went and fell in love with Holden Prescott. Considering the implications of that was too much to handle.”
“You mean like when you get married, Philip Prescott’s gonna be your father-in-law?” Logan burst into fits of laughter.
“Fuck you. I don’t know why I tell you anything.”
“I wonder if he’ll let you call him Daddy.”
“You know, I could kill you and make it look like an accident.”
Logan whipped his head around. “Jane! You heard that, right? If anything happens to me, tell the cops it was Gage.”
Jane brought over my drink and placed it in front of me. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
“Whose side are you on anyway?”
“His,” she said, pointing to me. “I like his guy, and if he’s shipped off to Anchorage Correctional, no reason for Holden to stick around anymore.”
“You like him better than me?”
“You don’t want me to answer that,” she said with a wink.
“I knew I shoulda gone straight home.” Logan shook his head. “So what are you gonna do?”
“Tell him, I guess.”
“Please tell me there’s going to be some sort of public spectacle involved. No jumbotron in Sawyer’s Ferry, but I bet you could convince the PE teacher to let you put a homemade sign up on the scoreboard in the high school gym.”
“You’re such a smartass. I can’t wait until the shoe’s on the other foot and you’re the one trying to figure out how to break it to the poor asshole you’ve fallen in love with.”