Page 8

H olden pulled his truck into the Amber Ridge sheriff’s station. The parking lot was half empty. Good. Hopefully that meant Jesse wasn’t too busy.

The chill of the air hit him in the face as he stepped out of his truck. He moved to the back and lifted out the carved wooden sign for the sheriff’s office. Jesse had requested an emblem of an eagle with the words Freedom and Protection underneath. Apparently, it would go above the reception desk.

He carried it across the parking lot, the scent of redwood drifting from the sign. He’d used a Danish oil to finish it. He liked Danish oil because it penetrated the wood, made it look great and kept the item durable.

Most people found oils and woodwork boring as hell, but he’d always been fascinated with the stuff. Pair that with the fact that he worked with the mountains on his doorstep and he had the best job in the world.

Inside the station, an older woman smiled up at him from behind the front desk. “Hi there. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to see—”

“Holden.” Jesse stepped out of the hall, a wide smile on his face. “Right on time.”

“Hey. Got your sign.” He held it up.

“Great. But you forgot the big-ass photo of me.”

Holden laughed. “You can always add it later.”

Jesse chuckled as he took the sign. “Maybe I will. It’s great though. Mom was right. You’re talented as fuck.”

“Not sure that’s exactly what she said.”

“I paraphrased.” He tilted his head toward his office. “Come in.”

Holden stepped into the room. “I still can’t believe you’re the town sheriff. They do realize you once got so drunk you couldn’t remember your way back to base, right?”

Jesse leaned the sign against the wall behind his desk. “That was after a long-ass mission. I earned my night off, and you guys were there to steer me back.”

Holden sat in the seat opposite the desk. “You know Lock wanted to leave you to fend for yourself?”

“Not surprising. That asshole was angry at the world until he got Callie back.”

It was true. Lock lost the woman he loved, which made him a nightmare to be around until he returned to Misty Peak, Tennessee, and made things right.

“Have you got time for a coffee?” Jesse lowered into his seat.

“Nah, I’ve got to get a quote to someone, unfortunately.”

“The woman who called you the other day?”

“Yeah, she’s been on my ass about it. How’d you know?”

“She sounded the type.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “She asked me to meet her at the hospital on her lunch break.”

“You hate hospitals.”

He fucking loathed them. He hated the smells. The sounds. Even the sight of the building turned his stomach. It all reminded him of the worst part of his childhood. “Yeah. This woman’s pushy. I felt like if I said no, she’d show up at my house in the middle of the night when her shift finished.”

“Does she know where you live?”

“No. But in this town, she’d find out.” He frowned at the newspaper article on Jesse’s desk. “A thirty-two-year-old died of heart failure?”

Jesse frowned. “Yeah. Sad story. Went in for what should have been a routine surgery and died in recovery.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“That’s what her family wants to know. Blood tests were sent off, but they weren’t stored properly, so all we can assume is that she reacted badly to the medication.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. A fucking mess, and hospital administration hasn’t been much help.”

“This is why you’re in the job and I’m not. I don’t have your patience.” Holden rose. “I should get going.”

“Sure.” Jesse stood too, but slower. “Hey, how’d the run go?”

“Clara stopped halfway, and I walked back with her.”

Jesse’s features hardened. “Was she okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Okay. Good. I’m glad you were there for her.”

Holden chuckled. “ She wasn’t.”

“She says that, but I’m sure a part of her appreciates it.”

Her soft thank you after he’d helped her with the graze on her knees flickered back to him.

He’d never told Jesse about the night Clara had said she loved him. He’d never told anyone. It felt too personal to share with even his best friend and Clara’s brother.

Or maybe he was just ashamed of his response.

He was about to go, when he remembered her questions about the fake ID. “Hey, you’re not able to do a background check on someone, are you?”

“Not without cause.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Anything wrong?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Clara would hate him for sharing, but fuck…he needed the town sheriff to know. “Scarlett, her roommate, has a fake ID.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No. But Clara has.”

Jesse’s frown deepened. “You think she’s involved in something she shouldn’t be?”

“Not yet. But I don’t like that she’s so close to Clara.”

“I can talk to—”

“No. And you shouldn’t even tell Clara I brought it up. But I think we should keep an eye on them.”

Jesse nodded. “I tend to keep as close an eye on my sister as I can, anyway.”

“Good.” Holden cleared his throat. “I’ll see you later.”

On the way to the hospital, his chest started to grow tight.

Then he saw the building. And even though this was a different hospital than the one his mother had died in, it looked almost the same.

He parked out front but didn’t get out right away.

He wanted to stay exactly where he was. Not go inside but just leave instead.

But that was fucking stupid. He was an adult. He should be able to walk into a damn hospital without anxiety closing his throat.

He texted Briar.

Holden: Hey. I just got here.

He didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds for a response.

Briar: Great. Meet me in the cafeteria. Be there in ten.

He climbed out of his truck and grabbed his laptop and the printed quote from the passenger seat. He always offered his clients both a digital and printed version.

The second he stepped inside the building, that familiar burning flared in his gut.

Some people described the smell of a hospital as a mix of antiseptic and bodily fluids.

To him, it was a sterile, metallic scent that, no matter what part of the hospital he entered, he couldn’t escape.

It was a clinical smell. And he fucking hated it.

He strode down the hall, following the directions to the cafeteria.

A man in a white coat rounded a corner, almost walking into him. “Holden!”

He frowned. “Malcolm.”

“Yeah. Hey. Everything okay?”

“Just meeting Briar in the cafeteria.”

His brows rose. “Briar. Okay.”

Why the hell did he say it that way? Was he surprised?

Malcolm cleared his throat. “You need help—”

A loud, piercing beep suddenly rang out from one of the rooms beside them.

Malcolm cursed and ran into the room, others following him, while Holden just stood there like a fucking statue, thrown back to when he was sixteen years old and that same beeping had pierced the air—all coming from the machines attached to his mother.

Panic crawled up his throat. The same panic he’d felt that day, knowing without anyone saying the words that his mother was gone. That he’d just lost the last person in the world who was family. The only person who loved him.

A hand suddenly touched his arm, making him flinch. He turned to see Clara and Pam standing in front of him, concern on their faces.

Some people didn’t like hospitals. A lot of people who’d gone through chemo actually hated them.

Not Clara. To her, the hospital was the place she’d faced the biggest obstacle of her life and won. The place that had saved her.

Twelve weeks she’d spent in this hospital, receiving chemotherapy. Originally, she’d been told she’d need four months, but she’d responded well to the drugs. Even that had been a victory.

It was after chemo that things had gotten hard.

That’s when she’d lost her hair and her hormones had been all over the place.

During chemo, she’d had a plan. Something to work toward—kicking cancer’s butt.

But after, she’d kind of felt lost, like she didn’t fit into the world she’d created in New York anymore, but she also wasn’t sure if she fit anywhere else.

“Are you okay, darling?”

Clara glanced at her mother. Pam Hayes sat in a hospital chair, a Band-Aid on the inside of her elbow. “You’re finished.”

“Blood’s all taken, just need to wait for the results.”

Her mother got routine blood tests, and today Clara had offered to take her.

“The nurse was telling me about this doctor who’s basically famous for his new sepsis protocol,” her mom continued.

“Malcolm. We actually went to high school together.”

“Really? Is he cute?”

She laughed. “I suppose some women would find him attractive. But he’s not really my type.”

“I see.”

Why did her mother say it like that? Like she knew some big secret Clara was keeping. “Should we go?”

“Sure.” Her mother tilted her head. “Are you okay being here?”

“Of course. I told you, Mom. I don’t mind the hospital.”

“You’re so strong, darling.”

Compliments were not hard to come by around her mother. “For coming to a hospital?”

“Yes. After everything you’ve been through here, absolutely. How are you doing?”

Her mother checked in regularly. Sometimes Clara wondered if the cancer had hit her family harder than it’d hit her. “I’m doing really well.”

“You look really good. When’s your next annual check with Dr. Farmer?”

Her oncologist split his time between their hospital and the one in Bozeman. “In about a month.”

Her mother nodded, and even though she pretended she was fine, Clara knew her mother got nervous around the time of her checks. “Well, I’d like to be at that appointment with you if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t know what to do without you at those things.” Her mother had come with her to every appointment. Every. Single. One. Indie had joined them for a few as well. Another reason she loved the women in her life. “Should we go straight home?”

“I was thinking we could stop by—”

“The Tea House? Get some sweet tea?”

Her mother grinned. “You read my mind.”

“No. I’m just as hopelessly addicted as you.”

They stepped into the hall, and Clara almost ran into a woman wearing a cap and carrying a laptop.

Wait…she knew that black cap. “Scarlett?”

The other woman looked up, and sure enough, it was her roommate. “Clara. What are you doing here?”

“Just keeping my mother company. Mom, this is my roommate, Scarlett. Scarlett, this is my mom.”

Her mother smiled. “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. I’ve got to go. I’m having lunch with Malcolm.”

Clara’s brows rose. “You are?” With her laptop? That should be fun.

“Yeah, and I’m running late. I’ll see you later.” Scarlett stepped around them.

“Hm.”

Clara looked at her mother. “What’s your ‘hm’ mean?”

“She just seems…busy.”

“She’s always busy. It makes her a bit rude.”

Her mother chuckled. “I’ve met worse people.” Her mother linked their arms as they continued down the hall.

“Trust me,” Clara said under her breath. “Scarlett can be worse. Especially when you don’t wake up in time for things you’ve planned to do with her. Then you get pillows thrown at your head.”

“So why’d you join a running club with her?”

“Who told you that?”

“Becket.”

So Holden had probably told Jesse, who’d told Becket, who’d told her mother.

Man, her family had big mouths. “I joined because it sounded fun and I didn’t think anything bad could come from doing some bonding with my roommate.

Plus, so many people told me I shouldn’t that I suddenly really wanted to. ”

Her mother chuckled. “The men in your life mean well.”

“Yeah, well, they can mean well and trust me to make my own good decisions at the same time.”

They rounded a corner to see Holden standing in the middle of the hall.

Clara frowned. He was pale, and he was looking at a patient room that had machines beeping loudly as if it held someone important to him.

She rushed forward and touched his arm, only for him to flinch before looking down at her.

Her frown deepened. “Holden. Are you okay?”

“Clara.” He shifted his gaze to her mother. “Pam.”

Clara’s attention moved to the room, which held half a dozen hospital staff, before one of the nurses closed the door.

“Do you know the person in there?” Clara asked gently.

He shook his head. “No, I—” Then he stopped, the fear from moments ago intensifying as he seemed to focus on her. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Mom needed some routine blood tests.”

Relief washed over his features.

“Holden…why are you here?” Clara asked.

He cleared his throat. “I’m meeting Briar to give her the quote for her kitchen.”

Something stabbed at her chest. Something she absolutely did not like and would not admit to. She shouldn’t care that he was meeting Briar, a beautiful, ridiculously fit nurse. It had nothing to do with her.

He ran fingers through his hair. “I should get to her.”

“Okay.” Clara’s single word came out quietly.

Holden gave them each a small smile before rounding the corner. She looked at her mother, who appeared deep in thought.

“He wasn’t okay,” Clara said softly.

“No, he wasn’t. I suspect he spent a lot of time in hospitals with his mother and now they’re not his favorite places.”

Was that true? His face had gone white because he remembered his mother?

How much of his life did her loss really affect? Something told her it was more than he ever let on.