No Good Doctor

by Nicole Snow

  “We can take my car!” Felicity says, fumbling in her pocket for her keys. “Come on!”

  We all start forward, but Blake hangs back, shaking his head. The building is still burning right at our side, but with the brick wall between us and the flames it feels like it’s happening in another world, another life.

  “I gotta help with this,” he says solemnly. “Putting out the heat’s what I do best.”

  For some reason, that makes me smile. Gone is the older goof of a man struggling to be a father, replaced by a soldier on duty.

  “I’ll get my crew together. Y’all get moving. I won’t say a word about you being here, big guy.” He nods at Nine.

  There’s a nervous moment, then more nods all around.

  Finally, we’re off, breaking for Felicity’s car in a rush and piling in, nearly buzzing with the high.

  Tonight could’ve ended far differently.

  Far more terribly.

  But instead, thanks to Gray, the best thing ever happened.

  We lived.

  24

  All Good Dogs (Doc)

  I haven’t been able to take my eyes or my hands off Ember ever since our brush with hell.

  Not for the entire drive to the outskirts of town. We take back roads to avoid the cop cars and EMTs still streaming into town.

  Five fire trucks pass us. All of them courtesy of Blake’s years-long campaign to give Heart’s Edge more firefighting power than it really needs after Paradise burned and damn near took the whole town with it.

  I keep Firefly’s hand clasped in mine the whole way, her body tucked close against my side.

  Even though she’s clearly exhausted, in shock, trembling with the enormity of walking away alive, she clings just as close to me. Every tiny touch, every glance through her lashes reminds me she’s here.

  She’s safe.

  I saved her.

  I protected her, and everyone else.

  Just the way I wish I had so many years ago.

  I also made the bastard chiefly responsible for the dark cloud threatening this town pay, once and for all, at the hands of his own demons. I watched the fire before we scuttled, making sure it incinerated every last bit of him and that basement so there wasn’t a chance anyone would ever come into contact with SP-73.

  The fire was surface-of-the-sun hot. They’ll be lucky to even recover ashes from Peters.

  And with everything curling up in smoke, reaching into the night sky, the world feels both shattered and right-side up again.

  For the first time in a long damn time, my mind’s clear.

  I can see better now. I can see myself. How I let guilt and self-recrimination cripple me. How I shut out my friends for far too long, and a town that only ever wanted to accept me, secrets and all.

  How I held myself back from being who I was meant to be. How it took this beautiful, marvelous girl shivering against my side to pry my eyes open and scream, look!

  Now, I can’t unsee it.

  I was never meant for timid, safe decisions. For hedging my bets. That’s not how I’m built.

  I was always meant to do the right thing. To follow my conscience to hell and back, and now after so many years, that conscience is crystal clear.

  Tearing my gaze from watching Ember starting to snooze against my side, I see Felicity pull off onto the edge of the service road. Her eyes go to the rear-view mirror, looking at Nine curiously where he slouches in the passenger seat.

  It’s not hard to tell Felicity is burning up with questions about him, about everything that happened tonight, but all she asks is, “Is this far enough?”

  Nine lifts his head from his mute brooding, glancing through the windshield. He’s pulled his hood up again, nothing visible of his face but a glint of his dark, almost amethyst-flecked eyes and a hint of his chin.

  “Yeah,” he says gruffly. “Don’t think anyone will spot me out here. Thanks.”

  He pushes the car door open and steps out. I suck in a deep breath and stick my hand out.

  “Wait,” I say, and he snaps back, peering into the back seat at me. “We need to talk, Leo.”

  He hesitates, then nods stiffly, before turning to trudge up toward the small bluff rising off the side of the road. It’s a place that looks out over the valley, offering many glimpses into paths leading off into the woods like a maze, this dark fairy realm in the trees.

  I look down at Ember, giving her a small squeeze.

  We were all crammed back here in the station wagon, me and Ember in the third row of seats squeezed in by the wheel wells, Warren and Barbara squished together in the middle seats. She offers me a faint smile, pressing her hand against my chest.

  “Go,” she murmurs, yawning. “I’ll be okay. I may get out and stretch my legs. And explain to my family what the heck is going on.”

  “I’ll be right back. Promise. You won’t be out of my sight again, tonight or ever.”

  Leaning down, I kiss the top of her head. Even saturated in the scent of smoke and sweat and fear, she still smells amazing.

  This indefinable thing that ignites my heart, making it easier to breathe.

  Reluctantly, I let her go and open the door, stepping into the night. Even with summer coming on strong, the breeze is still cool coming down from the mountains, helping ease a faint singed, crackling dryness on my skin that tells me I probably came a little closer to roasting alive than I’d like to admit.

  I linger to take it in for a moment, looking up at the stars. Then I turn, climbing the bluff where Nine forms a melancholy silhouette, looking out across the valley of our memories.

  We stand there for several long minutes in silence, just watching the skyline.

  Fuck. I’ll never forget the tragedy that took place below, but tonight it looks different.

  The sight of that gaping hole in the mountainside, the ruined wreck of the hotel, no longer has the power to haunt me.

  They’re just places.

  What took place there is long past.

  “So,” Nine finally says, breaking the silence. “Hell of a night.”

  I can’t help chuckling. So does he, and then we’re full-on laughing, a cathartic thing that frees some of the tension built up from the mad flight of life or death.

  It’s been a long time since we laughed together.

  And I remember how young we were once, trading idiotic jokes over beers after work, and challenging each other to games of gin with an old deck of cards someone left in the lab.

  As our laughter trails off, I sigh.

  “Hell of a time,” I echo, slipping my hands into my pockets. “It’s beyond past time for it to be over.”

  “But it’s not over for all of us,” he says, gazing out over the valley.

  “It could be.” I hesitate, then continue. “Peters’ death will open a lot of inquiries. I may have to stand trial to prove it was justified homicide to save Ember, Warren, Barbara, Felicity...and you, if you’ll let me explain, Leo. Those questions could make people start asking questions about Galentron. And if they do, I’m going to come clean. I’ll spill every secret I know to the right authorities. The lab. SP-73. The test plot. Everything.” I smile grimly. “Fuchsia might even be willing to back me up with hard evidence. I think there’s still a piece of a soul left under her scales.”

  He lets out a bitter snort. “That’ll be the day.”

  “I know.” I let my gaze trail over the silhouette of the mountains. “But the point is...you could stay, Leo. You could have a life again in the light, in the world, right here in town. Once people learn the truth about what happened at the hotel, no court in the world would prosecute you.”

  He’s silent for some time. I let him have his thoughts, the air blowing easy between us.

  But finally he says, “Thanks, but no thanks. There’s no explaining Mayor Bell without proof that asshole was involved, what I did to him. Fuck, and Clarissa...”

  For a second, I open my mouth. But I see the dark, wounded look in his ey
es, too much like poking the gaping wound of some animal.

  I fucking hate to admit it, but he’s right. I’m at a loss. With him, it’s more than just Galentron, even if they were the core of the hell we share.

  He’s missing a rock-solid alibi for murder, however justified, and the woman he loved. And after nearly losing Ember tonight, and coming far too close to scaring her away, I know how that feels. It’s a minor miracle he’s even fucking standing, let alone living a rough, mysterious life as a wild man that would put every survival show finalist to shame.

  “Leo, if you’ll just give me a few days to think, maybe I can–”

  “No, Gray.” It’s low, heartfelt, a touch of raw emotion in his gritty voice. “It’s not the right time. Not yet. I won’t give up. Someday, I’ll be back to sort my shit. Not now.”

  “Why?” I ask in a low voice, reaching for his arm and squeezing. “What’s really keeping you out here, wandering the mountains and popping up around town like a ghost?”

  “It’s fucking complicated. Don’t even have the words to explain, but I think in your own way, you get it.”

  I follow the way his head turns, looking down the slope, toward where the entourage in the station wagon waits, gathered around it. Ember, Barbara, and Felicity are still clinging to each other while Ember mouths words I can’t hear in that breathless way she has, animated, her eyes on fire even from this distance. Warren stands off to the side, the protective mastiff hound watching over them even though there’s no one out here but us.

  I linger on Ember.

  Yes, dammit. In some strange, heart-wrenching ways, I do understand.

  Leo makes a gruff sound. “Don’t put your life on hold any longer for me, man. I can see you’re ready to just...”

  “Just?”

  “Fly,” he says. “You’ve been limping on the ground so long, but you’re ready to fly now. You know what you have to do. Be good to her.”

  His back turns, and I hear his heavy footsteps over the brush fade to nothing.

  I linger a little longer, watching that bright, beautiful girl I nearly lost tonight gesture, while her family stares at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. He’s too right.

  Maybe living out there among the wild for so long has given him some weird, deeper truths like a monk straight out of legend.

  I know what I want to do next.

  With Ember, I won’t hesitate any longer.

  Small towns like Heart’s Edge are like a pond.

  When you drop a stone in, it can’t help but make ripples.

  How far those ripples go depends on the size of the rock. They may radiate just a few inches – or they could splash all the way to shore, bounce off the earth and stone and grass, and roll back in counter-ripples and cross-ripples and tall waves.

  But sooner or later, the pond always smooths again, and the stone sinks away like it was never there.

  After a few weeks of chaos and questions and nonstop local media attention, the ripples in Heart’s Edge are finally starting to smooth away to return to normal.

  Relatively normal, I suppose, considering I can’t go anywhere in public without getting mobbed or teased by folks who are starting to call me some kind of hometown hero.

  How ludicrous.

  It’s not like I was the only one there that night. Warren and Blake share just as much responsibility, but since War’s happily married and Blake won’t be caught dead dating again while he’s got his daughter to raise, somehow they avoid the annoying attention that gets thrown my way.

  Despite the fact that I’ve made my feelings for Ember crystal clear.

  I’m taken. Today, tomorrow, forever.

  Just because I haven’t put a ring on it yet doesn’t mean I’m available. And it’s one more good reason I mean to as soon as the right opportunity presents itself.

  Things have just been busy.

  Especially since last week, when Fuchsia Delaney became the second person in the history of Heart’s Edge to escape our tiny prison.

  Amazingly enough, the small-town lockup actually has a medical ward, and she was transferred there for recovery after we rescued her from Pam’s clutches. She’d always managed to avoid answering questions by pretending to be too weak, disoriented from blood loss.

  Then one day she was gone.

  Gone in the loosest sense of the word. She’s still out there somewhere in the wind.

  One day, I know she’ll be back.

  I know something else, too. She’s not getting the cat back.

  I think of Baxter as our own, now. She’s officially adopted us, and I’ve gotten used to waking up with that lump of black fur warming our toes. Almost as easily as I’ve gotten rather used to waking up with Ember in my arms.

  She looks up at me with her eyes so full of warmth, each day. And each day it seems like she wants to say something to me, but then falters, hesitates, and presses her lips to mine, kissing something soft and sweet into my skin, something she can tell me with touch alone.

  She’s looking at me that way again, now, as we stand on the cliff looking out over the valley and the meadows full of flowers scattered like bright confetti.

  We’ve brought the hummingbird we rescued a while ago. It’s flitting and darting about the cage in my hands. It’s whole again, nursed back to health by Ms. Wilma’s caring hand.

  And just like me, it’s ready to fly.

  We stand together, looking out over the vista. The mountains, the sky, the dizzying beauty of it all, yet none of it matches the bright, happy peace I feel when we’re together.

  We don’t even need words as I hold the cage high and she opens the delicate wire door.

  The hummingbird hesitates for a moment until it sees a window of pristine blue.

  Then it’s off.

  A jewel in flight, racing through the sky, soaring high and slowly tumbling toward the sweet nectar of the flowers below.

  For some time, we linger, the bird cage on the ground, standing hand in hand.

  I’m ready, I swear.

  I’m ready and yet my throat still feels like cotton, my heart beats too hard, and it takes too damn long before I find the nerve to look down at her and whisper, “Ember—”

  She glances up, her eyes wide, murmuring, “Gray…I wanted to—”

  We both break off, then laugh. I squeeze her hand. “You first, Firefly.”

  “No—no, it can wait. It’s silly.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t.” With a smile, I draw her closer. “Whatever it is, Ember, you can tell me.”

  She goes still, looking up at me with those wide eyes. They’re as blue as the sky reflected in clear, still water, and I see myself in them.

  I see someone who isn’t afraid to love her, and never will be again.

  She’s nervous, her fingertips shaky against my palm, her lashes trembling. I wait, letting her gather herself.

  She takes a deep breath, looking away, lowering her eyes and tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “Well, that night everything happened, I wanted to tell you...” Another deep breath, shivering and slow, her cheeks coloring with a blush that can catch my attention at any moment. “I love you,” she rushes out.

  It’s so quick and yet it’s also a tumble of words that picks up my pulse and carries it forward. She swallows, her voice thick, staring down at the drop-off. “I wanted to say it in the fire, but I was so scared. I couldn’t stand dying without you knowing I love you, but then Nine was there and it just...it never seemed like the right time. I was scared you’d only said it because you thought we were going to die, too, and you didn’t mean it and–”

  “Firefly. I meant every word. More than anything else I’ve ever said in my life,” I growl with everything in me. My heart soars as high, as bright, as fast as the jewel-bright wings of that little hummingbird.

  She loves me.

  And I love her, too. It’s now or never.

  “If that wasn’t true...” I pull away from her just enough to free my hand
s and drop to one knee, fishing the ring box from my pocket. Her eyes widen, a gasp rounding her mouth, her fingers flying to cover her lips as I flip the lid open on the delicate silver filigree engagement ring. “If it wasn’t true, I wouldn’t have brought you here for this.”

  “Gray!” Her eyes dart from the ring, to me, to the ring, to me, her blush so fiery red it’s like she’s one with the sunset, blooming in nature’s splendor all around us. “You don’t...you can’t possibly mean...”

  “I do.” Even if it’s too early to say those particular words, I can’t help but smile. “I love you, September Delwen. And if you’ll have me, I’ll marry you. I’ve wasted too much time denying everything. Life. Love. You. But I’m done wasting you, Ember. Can’t make that mistake. You’re meant to be kept. Cherished.” I clear my throat, and even if I’m trying to sound calm as I make it official, my entire body tingles with anticipation. “So, Ember, Firefly, will you marry m—”

  Next thing I know, I’m toppled on my back.

  Somehow, this little pint-sized teacup of a girl tackles me backward into the flowers along the edge of the cliff, crying out “Yes!” as she buries her face in my chest and hugs me tight.

  I flump down on the grass and peonies in a shower of displaced petals, staring up at the sky, trying to figure out how up just turned sideways.

  And how the damn ring box just went tumbling from my fingers and fell over the edge.

  Then I remember. Because Ember. That’s how.

  Perfectly clumsy. Beautifully spontaneous. Eternally mine, ring or not.

  I can’t stop myself from laughing, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her tight. “Well,” I say, “there goes six months’ mortgage on the clinic.”

  “Oops! Oh, no.” She pushes herself up, bracing her hands on my chest, looking down at me sheepishly. She’s biting her lip, trying to restrain her brilliant smile, but it’s useless. “Sorry, um...do you still want to marry me?”

  “Always,” I answer, without a second’s hesitation. “We’ll find the ring later. For right now,” I curl my hand against the back of her neck, drawing her down toward me. “I just want to kiss my fiancée.”