Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” May replied evenly. “I’m selective. How’s the hand?”
“It’s pretty good. Hurts a little, but I’m wearing a bag on it tomorrow. I promise.”
She did appreciate when a patient actually listened to her advice. “Good. I hope you manage to make it through the day tomorrow without getting injured.”
“God, so do I,” he muttered, already angling toward the bar. “The way Greg’s drinking, he’s not even gonna make it tomorrow. See you, Doc.”
The tavern hadn’t quieted so much as shifted. Dinner plates were gone, and the night crowd had settled in. Laughter rose near the dart boards, glasses clinked, and the fire in the hearth burned lower and steadier now, throwing long shadows across the floor.
Ivy emerged from the restroom, standing by May for half a second. She’d come in earlier with a cluster of friends, all loud and bright and already tipsy from prefunking, according to the spirited nurse. “It’s so fun to see you and Ace on a date,” she whispered, eyes sparkling.
“Thanks,” May whispered back. “I guess we’re not keeping it a secret.”
“Not in this town,” Ivy said dryly. She waved at Jack across the room, and he waved back. She then grabbed two margaritas from the bar before heading toward the dart boards where her friends were already arguing about rules with the flannel-wearing Thompson brothers.
May stiffened as Kyle and his entourage stood and headed her way, just as the door opened and Lance walked inside, wearing ripped jeans and thick boots. He caught sight of her and moved her way. “Hey, Doc.”
She frowned. “Lance? You can’t be in a bar. You’re not twenty-one yet.”
“Bruh.” He looked around. “They serve food here, so I can be here.”
She lowered her chin. “Only in the daytime.”
“Whatevs.” He glanced at his phone as Kyle approached. “You ready, dudes?”
Kyle paused. “Ah, sure. Dude.” He gave May his patented campaign smile. “We’re going night fishing until morning at a pond called McDougals.”
“McDucks,” Lance corrected. “I’m assisting my uncle Dirk since he’s taking charters again.”
May smiled. “I’m so glad.” Dirk had suffered a heart attack earlier in the year but was in much better health now, and he’d been cleared to pilot his plane again, which had made him so much happier. “Have a good time. I’ve heard the fish are really hopping at night.”
Jack quirked his lip. “I don’t see why they jump any better at night than the day, considering it’s light outside.”
Lance scratched his elbow. “They do, man. I think their internal clocks don’t know how light it is outside. I promise you’re gonna love it.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doc.” Peter and Jack started to follow him.
Kyle waited. “Would you like to join us?”
“Not in a million years,” she said evenly.
He sighed and turned, following the other men outside.
She unclenched her jaw. When were they leaving town for good, anyway? They had to have the pictures they needed by now. She took another sip of her water, reminding herself to stay hydrated.
The door opened. Cold air swept across the floor, carrying the scent of damp earth and something metallic. May looked up automatically.
Brad Connor stumbled inside.
She winced.
He was in his late twenties, though tonight he looked older. Greasy blond hair hung in his eyes, and his goatee was patchy and untrimmed. His clothes were dusty and rumpled, like he’d slept in them, and his boots were caked in dried mud. He stood just inside the doorway for a second, blinking against the light, his movements jerky.
Then he saw her and made a beeline for her table.
“Hey, Brad.” May set her napkin down and pushed her chair back. “How are you feeling? You okay?”
“No.” Scabs showed across his chin. “I’m hurting real bad. My back’s killing me.”
Up close, the signs were impossible to miss. His pupils were blown wide. His head jerked every few seconds, like a glitch in a feed. His jaw clenched and unclenched.
“I can’t give you anything,” she said quietly.
“Yes, you can.” He stepped closer. “I’m in real pain, Doc. You’ve got to help me.”
She stood instinctively, putting the table between them without making it obvious. The guy was big. “What have you been taking?”
He twitched. “Nothing. I swear. I haven’t taken anything.”
“Brad,” she said, keeping her tone calm. “I can’t give you anything. But I can get you a referral. You need help.” She’d known for months he was using again. He’d disappear into the woods for stretches at a time, then resurface hollow-eyed and shaky. There hadn’t been much she could do without him asking for help.
“No, you’ve got to help me,” he hissed. A couple of heads turned near the bar.
“I don’t have anything to give you,” she said. “Not here.”
“You do. Back at the office.” He came closer. His breath was sour. “Please, Doc. Just come back to the office. Give me something real quick. Just to get me through the night. Then I’ll go wherever you want.” The words tumbled out of him too fast, almost tripping over each other.