by K. Bromberg
“That’s good to hear. Good to hear.” He sighs. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been following up on your patient. The one you’ve been expressly asked to not inquire about.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and struggle with a response, unsure of the trap I’ll be walking in to. Fuck it. I might as well be honest. “In med school, we were told that there were going to be those cases that tested us. Ones that touched us so deeply we think about them years later. Ones we can’t let go of until we know the outcome. Ivy is mine, sir. If you would have seen how battered and broken she was when she came in, how she held on to my hand and wouldn’t let go.” How I promised her no one would ever hurt her again as she slipped into the coma. “I’m not calling for anything other than to see if she’s shown any sign of improvement.”
“You put our nurses in a predicament, considering her file says you’re strictly prohibited from requesting information.”
“I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry for caring about how she’s doing.”
His pregnant pause feels like a knife against my throat—biting and teetering on the edge of either ending this all or letting me live.
“You’re only the doctor in this case, Mr. Henderson. Not the judge, jury, or executioner, and that is why we are where we are today.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I have my own opinions on the matter. Personal ones that I can’t express while your case is being reviewed, but maybe, in time, I’ll share them with you.”
“I would like to hear them, sir.”
“With that said the board met yesterday, and we’d like you to come in this morning to discuss some things, if that suits you?”
Fuck.
I look at my clothes laid out, the duffle bag next to them, and the clock again, but I already know the answer before I ask the question. “At what time?”
“We can meet as soon as you get here so long as it’s before rounds start. If you’re unavailable, we can meet this afternoon. It won’t be more than an hour or so of your time. We have a few more questions before we make our final decision.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but fuck, if it isn’t one step closer to getting me out of this limbo I’ve been sitting in.
I do a quick mental calculation of how much time this will take and if I can still meet up with Blakely to drive together like we’d planned. It doesn’t matter, I have to go in. “I’m on my way.”
After I end the call, I give myself a minute to send a silent plea up to the powers that be that I can weather whatever they throw at me and finally get back to work.
And then I dial her number.
“You’re bailing on me, aren’t you?” she teases when she answers. Her seductive rasp doing more to me this morning now that I know what her kiss tastes like.
“Good morning.” I chuckle and then sigh. “You still in bed?”
“Mm-hmm.” The sound conjures images of her mile-long legs wrapped around her comforter. Thoughts of other things they could wrap around fill my head. “I couldn’t sleep when I got home, so I stayed up late and packed for the trip.”
“I’m packing right now.”
“You aren’t bailing?”
“No, but I do have a slight change of plans.”
“Oh.” Worry threads through that simple sound, and I wince.
“I’ve been called into work for a quick meeting that I can’t say no to. It has to do with a case I’m working on, and . . . it’s complicated.”
“Okay.”
“But it should only take about an hour, so why don’t you head up there, and I’ll be right behind you. I’d say for you to wait for me, but if things run a bit longer and we end up getting on the road late, it’ll just give Horrible Heather another reason to ding you.”
“Okay.”
Two okays in a row from a woman is never okay.
“I know we were supposed to go over our story on the way up . . . but I think we’ll be fine. And we’ll make sure to steal away tonight and sort everything out.”
“Okay.”
That’s three.
“We’ll be fine. I promise you I’ll be there. I wouldn’t back out on you—on this. If I’m a little late, just tell them I’m busy saving a life. No one ever argues with that excuse. Trust me.”
She laughs, and if I weren’t so preoccupied with thinking about what’s about to happen with the board, it would’ve gotten me hard. There’s nothing sexier than a sleep-drugged morning voice.
“Okay. I trust you.”
“Besides, I like to make grand entrances.”
Blakely
I stand in the cool mountain breeze and take in the view.
Trees upon trees upon trees.
There is a lake to my right, complete with sparkling water and a dock with canoes and paddleboards tied up.
A log cabin with the sign “Welcome to Red Mountain Lodge” above its entry is nestled in more trees and sitting straight ahead of me. It’s large by any standards, and with the light reflecting off the lake and shining off the tinted windows, it looks more like a high-end resort than a summer camp.
Sixth-grade camp it is not.
Thank god for that. I might be stuck in some mosquito-ridden mountains, but at least, from what I can see, the accommodations are better than I expected.
I glance at the parking lot again, but no one else has pulled in.
Where are you, Slade?
He said he’d be here. I’m sure he’s coming.
But I can’t linger any longer.
With a deep breath, I pull open the door to the lodge and the scent of warm cinnamon and the excited chatter of my colleagues somewhere down the way assault my senses as I take in the rustic-yet-modern charm covering every inch of the main entrance.
“You must be Blakely Foxx,” a very bubbly redhead says as she all but bounces her fairy-size frame over to me, clipboard clutched to her chest. “I’m Sue. Welcome to Red Mountain Ranch where we are excited to have you and your team.”
“Hi. Thank you.” Her enthusiasm scares me.
“I thought we were expecting someone else with your arrival.”
“He’ll be here shortly.”
“Oh goody.” She claps around her clipboard as her smile stretches impossibly wider. “First things first. Here is your agenda for your stay.” She hands over a manila envelope with nametags paper clipped to the front for Slade and me and then starts walking, expecting me to follow. “I’ll have you put your belongings over here in our bunkhouse area,” she says, leading me to a huge opening on the right where bags are lying next to assigned numbers. She has me set mine down next to the number eight on the floor.
I glance into the huge room and notice numbers on all the bunks that coincide with the numbers on the floor where the luggage sits. Great. Can’t wait for bunk beds and communal sleeping, said no person ever.
“This way please.” She starts walking toward the voices at the far end of the complex. “We’ll have all meals in the main room.” She points to a dining room that is a far cry from summer camp with its large chandeliers, bar set up on the far end, and bottles of alcohol displayed in an industrial farmhouse-type cabinet. “Activities are planned every day, per your agenda. Since you’re the last guest to arrive, we’ll let you relax with everyone for a few minutes before we introduce our staff to your group. After we get the meet-and-greet over with, we’ll give everyone some time to get settled, and then we’ll meet back for a barbecue and bonfire. We like to keep the first night a little light, but we’ll be up bright and early tomorrow, so be ready for some exciting activities.” We turn a corner, and she gestures for me to enter.
Inside, I find a wall of windows on one side, a table with beer, wine, and cupcakes on the other, and my coworkers milling about in the center. There are a handful of people I don’t recognize, so I assume they are significant others.
“You made it,” Heather says as she spots me before I can get a drink to help me deal with
her.
“Yes, I just got here. This place is gorgeous.”
“We’ve been waiting for you so we could start. It isn’t like you to be late, but sometimes we’re forced to make exceptions, aren’t we?”
“Oh, damn. My watch must be slow.” I glance at it. “Nope. It’s right on time. See? It says 2:55 just like the clock on the wall behind you.” I point to said clock, shake my head while she looks at it, and force the smarmy smirk off my lips before she turns back to face me.
She has an audience this time. I’m curious how she’ll play this.
“Well. What do you know? My watch must be fast.” Her smile may reflect amusement, but her eyes tell me she’s pissed I just showed her up in front of the rest of the team.
Oh. Well.
That time I did it on purpose.
“It happens.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal.
“Did I misunderstand?” she asks, looking over my shoulder. “Weren’t you bringing your boyfriend with you?”
“He’s on his way. He was called into work to consult on an emergency, so we drove separately.”
“And what exactly does he do for a living?” Her eyes flick over to someone behind me, no doubt one of her minions who secretly hates her but who follows along to save themselves from her wrath.
“He’s a cardiac surgeon.” My smile is close-lipped and quick. “Saving lives is what he does.”
“Oh.” Her head startles in surprise. “That’s . . . that’s great.”
“Are you ready to start,” Sue asks from the doorway, oblivious to the tension brewing in the room.
“Yes, of course,” Heather says as she steps away, and I take the chance to flee.
My colleagues smile at me in greeting as I make my way over to the refreshments table and the glass of wine calling my name. Its taste is on my tongue as Heather begins her opening speech.
“I’d like to welcome you all to the Red Mountain Retreat. My goals for us are simple over the next five days. Since we all come from different walks of life, have come together with experience from different companies—save for Blakely, our resident Glam girl, here—I’d like for us to use this time to become a team. While we should celebrate our differences, whatever those may be, we need to bond together so we know we can trust each other and learn to share our opinions without being afraid of being shot down.” She pauses and takes a moment to meet each of our gazes, and I swear to God, the sickeningly sweet smile on her face is enough to make me want to roll my eyes.
She continues to drone on. Sentence after sentence while I take in her brand-new clothes and pre-scuffed boots that make her look the part of avid hiker. I would put money on the notion that she cut the tags off them this morning before she drove up here and that they’re sitting in her garbage at home.
I take the moment to glance around at my colleagues—the six others who are here and their significant others. Obviously, I work with them on a daily basis, but they’re all still new enough that I’m not one hundred percent sure what to make of them or know what they make of me.
Regardless, I wonder what they think of Heather. Is their job just a paycheck to them, or are they biding their time because they think she’ll wear out her welcome sooner rather than later and a new boss will take her place?
I’m inclined to think the latter.
I’ve worked beside them, with them, and have spent late nights in the office getting pitches ready, but I still don’t really know them. As she talks, I smile at some of them when their eyes meet mine while others listen intently.
Where are you, Slade?
“In conclusion, I was hoping that we could all come together as seven couples, have some adventures together, bond, and then leave here as one big, happy family. At least on those nights when I ask you to work late, your spouse or boyfriend will know who you’re cheating on them with . . . me.” Her laugh is obnoxious, but I give her credit for trying to pull this off. “So let’s do a quick intro to get everyone acquainted with each other.”
We take the next few minutes to go around the room, introducing our boyfriends or spouses—or rather, everyone does but me because I’m still waiting for Slade to show.
“We’ll be putting on nametags later so we can get to know each other’s significant others’ names in case we forget them, but in the meantime,” Heather glances over to Sue, who is standing against the far wall of the great room. “Sue is going to say a few things.”
“Thank you, Heather,” Sue says, her infectious tone filling the room. “We are so happy to have you here and to help you build your Glam family unit. I’d like to introduce you to our staff for your stay here. The activity directors, or ADs for short, are here to help facilitate the activities we have planned for you this week. Austin here,” she says, pointing to a man standing at the back of the room. His blond hair curls out from beneath his Red Mountain ball cap, and he has a suntan line on his nose from his sunglasses. He’s mid-twenties, and when he lifts a hand to wave in greeting, his bicep strains against the T-shirt’s cuff. “Is the master of all things water related.”
“Well, I do believe I might need assistance on this trip,” a voice to my right murmurs in an exaggerated drawl. I glance over and find Maddie beside me.
Maddie with her vibrant red hair and loud makeup, her trendy clothes and outrageous stories, is the one person in this group who came over with Heather from her previous company. She always nods and says yes to whatever Heather says, following blindly, and her attention span with men is less than a month. She changes them like her underwear, so even though she’s here with whichever of the men standing near the beverage table came with her, it doesn’t mean they’ll still be together when they leave this retreat.
She isn’t exactly my favorite, and several things she’s overheard me say have somehow ended up in Heather’s ear.
“And over by the door is Leo.” We all shift our attention to an equally attractive man with darker skin and a smile that would win anyone over.
“Welcome.” He lifts his hand.
“Jesus. It just keeps getting better,” Maddie murmurs.
“Evan is around somewhere. He’s our other fixture here,” Sue continues as I turn around to set my empty wine glass down.
And the minute my back is turned, Maddie murmurs, “Nope. He’s the one I want. For sure.”
Down girl. Talk about a bitchy thing to say when your boyfriend is within feet of you.
But, of course, I turn to see what this Evan looks like and then freeze because the person walking across the room isn’t someone named Evan.
It’s Slade.
And we’re talking Slade looking absolutely irresistible in his dark blue jeans and plain black T-shirt.
But it isn’t just what he’s wearing that has my pulse racing and my teeth sinking into my bottom lip to bite back my smile, it’s the attitude he has. The utter confidence and nonchalance about walking into the room and having everyone turn to watch him.
It’s an ease I’d kill to have but love that he does.
It’s his smile, which is genuine and happy, that’s directed my way. The one that says I’m his whole world and he’s been waiting all day to see me.
It’s his eyes, which are more gray today than blue, that are fixed on me and sparkling with the private joke only the two of us know.
And, once again, I forget for the briefest of moments that this is all pretend and that the expression on his face is just for show.
“Sorry I’m late,” Slade says to the room, not specifying anyone in particular.
“Hands down. One hundred percent fuckable,” Maddie murmurs just as Slade reaches me.
“Very true,” I say, glancing over to her before I turn back to Slade, “I should know.”
“Hey, you,” Slade says, his dimples winking as he steps forward and brushes a chaste kiss against my lips before turning to the group. I catch Maddie trying not to choke on her sip of wine when he does. “Hi. I guess I missed introductions, huh?” He runs a
hand through his hair, and the aw-shucks expression he gives with it is adorable. “I’m Slade Henderson.” He laces his fingers with mine to make the statement of why he’s here—as if the kiss on my lips wasn’t enough. “Again, my apologies for being late.”
It’s petty, but the look on Heather’s face is priceless—lips formed in the shape of an O, eyes blinking, surprise etched in every line of her expression. She’s in complete shock that this stunner is with me.
I feel shallow for the first time in as long as I can remember, and I don’t care.
“No worries.” Her smile is wide, her eyes darting around the room. “Welcome.”
Slade
“How was that for timing?” I whisper in Blakely’s ear.
“Incredible,” she murmurs, her body tensing momentarily when I put my hand on her back to guide her to the small gathering of people on the far side of the room.
We’re doing some kind of pseudo informal cocktail party where everyone basically already knows each other but where no one seems to be at ease.
Fucking strange.
“Sorry again.”
She stops and looks at me, concern I don’t expect in her eyes. “Did everything go okay?”
Thoughts stack one upon another in my head. The nerves of sitting before the review board. The answers I had to recite—the apologies and the assurances of how it’ll never happen again, that I learned my lesson, that my job is to heal instead of be the judge and jury—when they know damn well the only thing I was sorry for was not being able to protect Ivy sooner. I had to put a damper on my sarcasm and the questions I wanted to confront them with.
Was I supposed to let him be alone with her, the only witness to the crime I know deep in my bones he committed? The only one who could wake up and point the finger at him? Because wouldn’t that be harming my patient too? Wouldn’t that be failing her?
