Who was I kidding? This was going to be a disaster.
2
BECKETT
I leaned my motorcycle into the turn as the road wove around the mountains. I’d seen a lot of beautiful sights over the past decade—deserts in the Middle East, Kilimanjaro in Kenya, the jungles of Costa Rica, black sand beaches in Thailand—but nothing was quite like home.
I slowed my bike as downtown appeared. Wolf Gap hadn’t changed much in the year or so I’d been home. Maybe a few shops had turned over, but the sights were exactly the same. That Old West feel and everybody’s-a-neighbor mentality. It was both comforting and oppressive.
A few blocks into town, I made a turn onto a side street, heading for the small building that looked more like a quaint house. Too bad it didn’t have living quarters attached. I caught sight of the sign that read Wolf Gap Medical and then, in smaller script below, Dr. Beckett Easton. Every time I saw it, things got a little more real.
It had been an impulse decision. My baby sister, Hadley, had gotten hurt, and I couldn’t imagine heading back to my post in Venezuela. The fact that there had only been ghosts waiting for me there had only pushed me further towards buying the practice.
I pulled into a parking spot, shutting off my engine. As I climbed off my bike, the sound of birds chirping the happiest song imaginable had me fighting a laugh. Wolf Gap really had that picturesque Mayberry thing going on—at least it was that idyllic existence most of the time. But I knew better than most that those perfect exteriors could hide dark deeds. It had been one of the reasons I’d signed up with Aid International. I wanted to look that darkness dead-on and help shed light there. Only, sometimes, that light came too late.
I gave myself a mental shake and strode towards the door. As I pulled it open, a bell tinkled. When I stepped into the reception area, Dolores scowled at me.
“I could hear that danged machine miles away.”
I grinned at the woman who had to be in her mid-seventies, at least. I’d inherited her charming receptionist skills when I bought the practice from Doc. “It’s a beautiful sound, isn’t it?”
She harumphed. “It’s a noise violation, that’s what. I have half a mind to call that brother of yours and ask him to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”
I bit back a chuckle and reached into my messenger bag, pulling out a cheddar biscuit wrapped in a napkin. “For you.”
Dolores eyed the bundle carefully. “That one of your mama’s biscuits?”
“The cheddar ones. I know they’re your favorite, so I saved one just for you.”
She shooed me on. “Such a sweet-talker. Get back to your office. We have our first patient in five minutes.”
I shook my head but moved towards the hall. It might take me longer than expected to win over Dolores, but I’d do whatever it took. She was an excellent receptionist. Took no crap yet could soothe a worried mother like nothing I’d ever seen. Doc didn’t have a nurse on staff, so it was just Dolores and me, and there was plenty of work to keep us busy.
I opened the door to my office and stepped inside, hanging my messenger bag on a hook. I’d kept all the furniture except the desk chair that Doc had insisted on taking with him. Nothing about the space had been personalized to me in any way—no photos or artwork—just what I needed to do the job each day.
I lowered myself into my chair. Maybe I needed a painting. No, a photograph of the mountains. A piece of home that reminded me I was still free. Even if being around my family reminded me of all the ways I’d let them down.
A knock sounded on my office door.
“Come in,” I called, scrubbing a hand over my jaw.
My younger brother appeared in the doorway, still wearing his sheriff’s uniform. “Hey.” He started to say something else and then stopped himself, taking a moment to survey my face. “You look rough.”
I scowled in his direction. “Gee, thanks.”
Hayes grinned and lowered himself into the chair opposite me at my desk. “Sorry. I just meant you look stressed.”
I gestured to my desk. “Paperwork.”
“My least favorite part of the job, too.”
I pinched my nose, trying to relieve the headache building there. “I don’t think I can make myself go home, either.”
“Mom?”
I nodded. “The questions are endless, and the hovering is getting out of control. Did I tell you she went into my dresser and reorganized it? She refolded all my underwear. That’s crossing a line, man.”
Hayes chuckled. “She missed you.”