CHAPTER 6
ARIA JUST WALKED AWAY.
Again.
Jake stood there for a moment, watching as Aria stalked down the hall, practically in a run.
What—?
Okay, so he could admit to his impulsiveness, but . . . hello, she’d sent him that text . . .
Or . . . “I texted Jenny.”
Shoot, he’d done that before—sent the wrong person a text. And that person hadn’t jumped on a plane . . .
Clearly she wasn’t sick, or incapable, and he’d simply followed his impulses, again. Or rather, his desires.
He’d wanted to see her. And had talked himself way too easily into the idea that she was desperate to see him too.
Apparently, she meant just friends.
Nice, Jake.
Still. It wasn’t like he hadn’t just found her trying to extinguish a fire, for Pete’s sake. Badly, he might add.
So, “Aria, what’s the matter?”
He bit back a cough, despite his efforts to hold his breath, keep from inhaling smoke.
She’d met Angel and now had her arm around her, leading her into a nearby room. He sprinted down the hallway, came alongside them. Held open the door, then picked up Angel and placed her on the bed.
Aria just looked at him, then left the room. He might even call it sprinting.
Angel stared at him. “Was that who you were looking for?”
“Yeah,” he said and made a face.
She raised an eyebrow. “Sorta sounds like she wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m getting that vibe.”
Outside the rain was dying, the howl of the wind haunting as it moaned through the darkness.
Aria came back in, pushing a supply cart. “I can’t find a suture kit. Can you go down to the ER and see what you can scrape up?”
Oh, was she talking to him?
Apparently, because she looked over at him.
“Sure, Doc,” he said.
“Thanks.” She turned her back to him.
Oh, this was fun.
She might be a tad overly angry here. Jenny’s words swept back to him as he headed toward the stairwell. “Just remember, the Aria you met in Alaska might not be the Aria in real life.”
You think?
The water was up to the second step from the bottom and he stepped down into the chill. It bit at his bones as he pulled out his phone and flicked on the light.
He wrestled open the door, and water poured in and filled the stairwell nearly to his knees. The lower floor was silent, the water gleaming as his light licked over the reception desk, the reception area, the double doors of the ER bay. He waded through the expanse to the ER doors and pushed them open.
His phone light illuminated the empty bays, the gurneys, the movable cabinets filled with supplies. Sloshing over to the nearest one, he opened it, fishing through the supplies.
“What are you doing here?”
And now he couldn’t dislodge her tone of voice, the incredulous way Aria had looked at him.
What was he doing here?
Yep, he was an idiot. Because she hadn’t meant to text him, which meant . . .
She was over him.
Dumped, just like Ellie said, and here he was, stuck in a hurricane, cold, hungry, wet, and trying to find—what did she want again? A suture kit?
He knew what a suture kit looked like. Alcohol wipes, tweezers, forceps, needle and thread. He found a plastic pack in one of the drawers. She’d probably need some lidocaine too. That, he’d probably find in the pharmacy.
He waded down the hall.
Probably she was right—they wouldn’t be able to get out onto the bridge. And if Hurricane Lucy really was headed their way, being inside a building like the hospital, with its cement outer walls, seemed like the best option.
The pharmacy door was wedged open with a chair, and he climbed over it and searched the shelves, three huge metal racks filled with all manner of meds and supplies.
Flashing his light over a locked cabinet, he found a shelf of pain meds—Oxycontin and other drugs that could too easily get lost on the street. He finally located a box of lidocaine on another shelf and grabbed a couple along with a bag of needles in plastic.
Holding up the supplies, he climbed back over the chair and out into the mess of water. It probably wouldn’t be long until the electricity went out, depending on where the breakers were, but hopefully the engineers put generators on the roof.
He climbed back up the stairs and came out by the scorched room. Down the hall, he found Aria holding a gauze pad to Angel’s foot.
“I found some supplies.” He dumped the stash onto the other bed.
She wore purple gloves, had tied her hair back, and looked so in her element, he just stared at her for a moment. “Thanks, Jake.” She removed the gauze, examining the wound.
What was he thinking, really? The Aria he’d met had been on vacation.
This was the real Aria.
A woman like Dr. Aria Sinclair wasn’t exactly going to get serious with a guy like Jake. She should be with a lawyer. Or a CPA. Or . . .
Aw, he should have expected this.
He would just hunker down with her until the storm passed, make sure she got home safely, and walk away.
“How did this happen?” Aria said to Angel.
The woman leaned back against a pillow, her hand over her belly. “I . . . I was walking on the boardwalk and I stepped on some glass.”
Aria opened the suture kit and began to lay out the items on a tray. She smiled at Angel, her voice calm, as if they might be ordering lunch. “In the middle of the storm? Why didn’t you take cover?”
“I . . .” She glanced at Jake, then away. “I had nowhere to go.”
Aria was cleaning the area with benzine, the dark liquid making Angel wince.
“Where are you from? Do you live in Key West?” Jake said, stepping up to her, wanting to take her mind off the procedure. He’d lacerated his foot once. Not a picnic.
“No. I’m from Wisconsin, actually. I met Baker during spring break a year ago and we . . . I thought we fell in love. We’ve been staying at the Seashell Youth Hostel for the past six months.” She ran her hand over her belly.
Jake said nothing but looked over at Aria. She had filled the needle with lidocaine.
“I’m just going to numb this area. Little prick . . .”
Jake offered his hand and Angel took it, squeezed. One eye closed as Aria administered the shot.
“Okay, you did great. We’ll wait a moment here, and then get you sutured up.” She looked at Jake and gestured with her head toward the hall. Then, she pulled off her gloves, tossed them in a garbage can nearby, and left the room.
He followed her out. She shut the door. Turned to him. “How in trouble are we?”
For a moment, he had nothing, caught in those brown eyes, the way she looked at him as if she actually needed him.
As if they might be in this together, just like before.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Last I heard, the storm was heading north, up the coast. This could just be the edges of it. It might pass right by us.”
She nodded. “Okay.” Then, she blew out a breath.
“Aria—?”
“I’m not an obstetrician, but her blood pressure is pretty low, and her lips are blue. I’m worried the baby isn’t getting enough oxygen. I’d like to find a fetal monitor, if we could. But really, I’d like to know how long we might be here.”
He glanced down the hall, toward the giant picture window near the other area. “The rain seems to be diminishing—”
“According to Mimi, hurricanes come in rain bands.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“There’s an older woman in the next room. She has COPD. That’s why I’m here. She needed medical help.”
“And that’s why you didn’t evacuate.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I couldn’t leave her here. Even if she insisted on staying.”
“I’ve met those types. The stubborn ones.”
“Really, Jake? Should we not talk about the ones who jump to conclusions? What should we call this . . .” She gestured to him—as in, his presence. “Panic?”
“Friendship,” he said.
She cocked her head at him. Blew out a breath. “Right. Okay.”
“Aria.”
She looked over at him. For the first time he noticed the wells under her eyes. And he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m . . . I don’t know why I’m here. I guess I thought you needed me. Call it a reflex, I don’t know. But that’s what friends do. Maybe it’s just my history on the teams, but when a teammate needs help, we show up. So, I’m here, and I’ll help you. We’ll get through this storm, and everything is going to be fine, okay?”
She stared at him, and he had nothing when her eyes filled.
What?
She blinked hard, forced a smile. “Yeah. Sorry, Jake. I am glad you’re here.”
He wanted to give her something sarcastic like, Don’t leap into my arms or anything, but actually, she looked like she needed a hug, so instead, “That’s what I do.”
She gave a tiny laugh then, and somehow, just like that, it was all better. Her eyes cleared, and she nodded. “I know. You can’t help but be a hero.”
And there she was. The woman he’d left in Alaska. Sweet, brave, funny.
She turned toward the room, her hand on the door. “As long as you’re predicting the weather, do you think you can predict us some food? I’m starved, and my guess is that Angel hasn’t eaten much. There’s a vending machine in the staff lounge.”
“As you wish.”
She rolled her eyes, but he got the slightest grin and disappeared into the room.
Food. He headed down the hall and found the vending machine in the employee lounge.
No money. And the machine didn’t accept credit cards. But it hosted a few candy bars, bags of Doritos, Cheetos, unpopped popcorn, juice boxes, and protein bars.
Maybe he could shake some of the items loose. He unplugged the machine, then braced his arms on either side and threw his weight into the box.
He barely budged it.
Where was his demo guy when he needed him?
“My money is on the machine.”
He turned. A young woman stood at the door. Golden brown skin, brown eyes, her hair in a turban. She wore a pair of green scrubs.
“Do you work here?”
She laughed and came into the room. “No. I’m Mimi’s granddaughter. I came in with Aria. Who are you?”
“I’m Jake.” He held out his hand and shook hers.
“What are you doing here?”
He turned back to the machine, surveying it. “Good question. I’m not really sure. I thought . . . well, it’s a long story . . . Aria sent me this text, only it wasn’t for me, apparently, so . . .”
“So you weren’t with the medical conference?”
He shook his head. “I’m just a friend from Minnesota.”
“You came from Minnesota down to a hurricane? C’mon. She’s not just a friend. You got a thing for Miss Aria.” She folded her arms and leaned against the door frame.
Oh. So clearly there was nothing getting past her. “What’s your name?”
“Yolanda.”
“Well, Yolanda, it’s complicated. We . . . I . . .”
“Yeah, it sounds complicated. I’ll simplify it for you.” She leaned up. “When a man loves a woman . . .”
“It’s not like that.”
“Huh. So that’s why you’re busting up property, because she wants some Cheetos.” She walked over to the machine. “It’s got a lock on it. You could probably just pick the lock and open it.”
Pick the lock.
He pushed past her, toward the door.
“Where’ya going?”
“Outside.”
She followed him into the hallway. “There’s a storm outside.”
“So I’ll get a little wet.” He disappeared down the hallway, back down the stairwell.
Because if Aria wanted Cheetos, she was getting Cheetos.
“He was searching the entire island for you.”
Aria looked up from her work, the intricate sutures on Angel’s heel.
“What?”
“Jake. He was searching the entire island for you. He would have kept searching if he hadn’t seen me. He was really worried.”
Aria looked back down at her work. A deep laceration, nearly to the bone of her heel. Angel would need antibiotics, which meant another trip downstairs. “He’s prone to that. He works for a search and rescue team, so, it’s in his bones.”
“If any guy came looking for me, I think I’d be glad to see him.”
Aria frowned, looked up.
Angel was looking at her. Her blonde hair hung in wet, thick dreads, her hazel-green eyes meeting Aria’s. “He’s really cute too.”
Aria let out a breath, a sort of laugh. “Yeah, he is. And he knows it. Listen, Angel, Jake is a great guy, but he’s . . . well, he’s not the settling-down type. Not the I-want-a-family, get-married, buy-a-home, get-a-dog, and volunteer-to-be-a-baseball-coach type. He’s the guy who shows up to save the day . . . and then walks away to the next damsel in distress.”
She looked back at her work. “I just happened to have been the most recent damsel.”
“Really? He rescued you?”
She finished off her stitch. Reached for the scissors. “I was stuck on a mountain with a couple of friends, and he and a couple of his friends showed up to help us. So, yes.” She snipped off the thread. “But that’s all we were—friends.”
“Mmmhmm. Then why did you text him?”
She looked up again. “I didn’t text him.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No, I . . .” She got up and reached for the supply cart. “No. I thought I was texting my friend Jenny.”
“Or, you subconsciously wanted him to find you so you texted him . . .”
“I didn’t text him.”
Angel raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t. I don’t want him here.”
“Not at all?”
She sighed. “I guess . . . I mean . . .”
Angel grinned. “I thought so. Because you know, you’re awfully angry at him for no reason.”
“I’m not mad at him, I’m just . . . well . . . he totally overreacted and—”
“It was sweet, wasn’t it? Him coming down here?”
She unwrapped a bandage and pressed it over her wound. Stood up. “It was sweet.” She snapped off her gloves. “But I don’t have room for sweet and charming and . . . well, anything but just friends in my life.” She tossed the gloves into a nearby garbage can. Looked at Angel. “You don’t know it, but your life is about to get very busy. And sometimes, when you have something super important to you, other things just . . . well, they have to be sacrificed.”
“Like love?” Angel’s hands curled over her stomach.
“Well, maybe some kinds of love. I love my job. My patients, my life. I just don’t . . . I . . . Jake is a great guy. But he is very different from me. The real me, not the me he met on the mountain. He is funny and charming and everybody loves him. But he’s also impulsive. And frankly a little frightening sometimes.”
Angel’s eyes had widened.
Aria held up her hand. “No, I don’t mean scary, as in he would hurt someone, although he was a navy SEAL, so maybe he would, but I never felt anything but safe with him.”
“He was a navy SEAL?”
“Yeah. So, he’s got a bigger protection gene than the average man.”
“And that’s why you’re mad at him?”
Aria took some gauze and began to wrap it around Angel’s heel, the question sinking inside.
“No. That’s not why I’m mad at him.” She looked at the window, seeing herself dimly lit in the reflection. It looked tired and bedraggled, and she felt it. She wasn’t up to fighting the feelings Jake stirred in her.
Wasn’t up to fighting the longing to give in to his charm.
“He broke a deal we made.”
“What deal?”
And she didn’t know why she was trying to justify herself to this girl. Or maybe, it was just to herself.
“The unspoken deal we made in Alaska that what happens in Alaska stays in Alaska. That I could be one person there, the person that could laugh at his jokes, and dance with him, and kiss him—”
“You kissed him?”
Aria smiled, glanced up at Angel. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” Angel grinned. “I’ll bet he’s a good kisser.”
Aria looked away, warmth spreading through her. “Good enough. But see, that’s the thing. I don’t go around kissing guys. In fact, I can count the number of times I’ve been kissed on one hand, and I let myself sort of . . . I don’t know. Kiss Jake and tell myself that it didn’t matter. That it was all in fun.”
“But it wasn’t in fun. You like him.”
Aria reached for the tape to secure the wrapping. “No. I mean, yes. One part of me liked him, but the other part . . . no, I can’t like Jake. And he was supposed to forget about me. He wasn’t supposed to care. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to follow me to Key West. He broke our deal.”
“Does he know that?”
The voice came from behind them, and she turned to see Yola entering the room. “So that’s what that was about.”
“What was about?”
“Complicated.” Yola walked into the room. “Jake said things between you two are complicated. But they don’t sound complicated. Jake likes you, you like him—”
Yola gave her a look.
“Fine. But like I was telling Angel, it won’t work between us.”
“You’d better tell him that, because he’s breaking the law for you down the hall.”
“Huh?”
“He was wrestling the vending machine. I told him that maybe he just needed to pick the lock instead of beating it up, and he took off like a man on a mission.”
“Where did he go?”
“He said he was going to get wet.” Yola walked over to the window. “Yep, he’s down in the lot. The light’s on in a car.”
Aria walked to the window. The parking lights illuminated the lot, rippling with running water, in some places past the windows of the parked cars. No, there was no getting off this island—by car, at least.
She spied Jake in the back seat of an SUV. He climbed out and shut the door.
But instead of heading toward the hospital, he stopped, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and headed out into the lot.
He stopped by a car and leaned over, looking in. Then he reached into the door through an open window and unlocked it.
“What’s he doing?” Yola said.
He opened the door. Pulled out something and tucked it into his jacket.
“Maybe he found some food or something,” Aria said and turned away as Jake ran for the building.
She walked over to Angel. “I’m going to try and find an ultrasound machine, but until then, let me get your blood pressure again.” She pulled the cuff from the wall and wrapped it around her arm.
“I think you should give him another chance.” Angel pressed her hand onto her abdomen. As if warmed by the heat, her stomach moved, the body inside pressing back.
Aria watched, a warmth coursing through her. Life. Hope.
“Some things are worth the risk,” Angel said. “Right? Even if he’s not the settle-down-and-have-a-family, get-a-dog type. He still showed up for you.”
Yes, he had.
And if she were honest— “I just don’t want him getting hurt because of me.”
Angel frowned but didn’t answer because of the footsteps squeaking down the hallway. They passed the room without entering.
Aria couldn’t help the slightest twinge of disappointment.
“He looks pretty sturdy,” Yola said, walking to the door. “Not the type to get easily hurt.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t know Jake like I do.”
Yola turned. “I think that’s the point. If Jake is the guy you say he is, maybe that’s exactly why he isn’t letting you go. Why he chased you to Florida.”
“I don’t think—”
Yola stepped back as the door opened.
Jake stood in the frame. Soaking wet. Grinning. Wearing his backpack and holding up a bag of Cheetos as if he’d brought home dinner from the wilds.
Yola folded her arms and looked at Aria, a told-you-so in her expression.
“Here you go, Doc,” he said and tossed her the bag.
She caught it. “I suppose you want a tip.”
“Nope.”
“How’d you get into the vending machine?” Yola asked.
“I picked the lock.” He turned to Angel. “And I got something for you too.” He walked over, and from his coat drew out a—
“Oh my, it’s a puppy!” Angel said.
Soaking wet and shivering, the little black dog appeared to be a poodle, with curly hair but droopy ears and big brown eyes. He looked about three months old, about the size of a football.
“Where did you find him?”
Jake set his pack down, leaned it against the wall. “He was in this car. I don’t know if he climbed in, or maybe the owner left him there, but he was barking, scared to death.”
“He’s trembling,” Angel whispered and pulled him to herself.
“I thought you might like some practice before the little one shows up,” Jake said.
“He’s so sweet,” Angel said.
Aria stared at Jake. Water dripped down his face, into his beard, his baseball hat saturated, his clothes equally wet. He shivered a little, but he was watching Angel, grinning.
Yes, he was.
Oh, boy. “I’m going to find you a blanket,” she said and pushed past the infuriating man and out into the hallway.
He turned and followed her down the hallway, of course. “Aria, what’s the matter?”
She didn’t look back.
“Hot Lips. Turn around and talk to me.”
Oh, for— “Don’t call me that.” But she turned, her hands on her hips.
He skidded to a halt. “Then tell me what I did.”
“What you did? What you . . .” She shook her head. “Stop being so . . . charming. You sweep in here like you’re Superman, carrying a pregnant woman. Then you put out a fire, find a puppy—for crying out loud, and bring me Cheetos. I mean, what’s next, donating a kidney?”
He just stared at her.
“You can’t do this, Jake. You can’t follow me around the world and make me . . . just, you can’t.”
“Make you what?” His voice had dropped, his blue eyes holding hers.
Her mind went blank. Shoot, those eyes had magical powers. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Look at me!”
He moved his eyes off her, up, over, down, over—
“Stop.” But she bit back a smile. “You’re like a two-year-old.”
He grinned. “A very tall two-year-old.”
She sighed. “Jake, don’t you get it? What we had in Alaska was . . . it was a time-out from life. It was . . . fun. And yeah, I . . . I liked you.”
His smile fell. “I liked you too.” He made to reach out for her then, but she stepped back.
“But that’s the point. That wasn’t . . . me. The real me doesn’t, well, she doesn’t do impulsive, or unexpected, or even really—”
“Have fun?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I tried to have fun and ended up stuck in a tropical storm. And, before that, on a mountain.”
“That was a little fun.”
“And see, that’s why we don’t belong together. Because no, it wasn’t fun. I mean . . . yes. I liked talking to you—”
“That’s not all we did—”
“Don’t. I mean, I know.” And now she couldn’t look at him, her face heating. “But see, again. To you, that was all fun. To me . . . I . . . I don’t behave that way. I don’t just kiss people and walk away.”
“Except that’s exactly what you did.” He drew in a breath. “Was it because . . . well, because of what happened, or didn’t happen, in the hotel room? Because I made you feel, I don’t know . . . unsafe? Because if that’s what it was, then I’m not only sorry, but yeah, I’ll walk away from you, Aria. I never want you to feel unsafe with me.”
“No, Jake. No.” She put her hand on his arm then. Squeezed. “I felt safe. Too safe, probably. And that’s why I suggested . . . well, again, I wasn’t myself. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I do know that I’m back in my real world now, and in this world, I work 24/7. I barely have a social life, my patients are my world, and I like it that way. I know I’m not being fair to you, but . . . but you don’t really want a woman like me anyway.”
He frowned at her.
“No, Jake, really. I’m all preplanning, schedules, to-do lists, and by the book. You’re . . . well, you’re the guy who climbs mountains for fun, jumps from a plane on a whim, and breaks into cars to rescue puppies.”
“You would have broken into a car to save a puppy,” he said.
She shook her head.
“What if I’m good for you?”
She looked up at him, softened her voice. “No, Jake. You’re not good for me. You get me in over my head.”
He drew in a breath, and his jaw tightened. But he nodded, something hooded coming over his face. “Yeah. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Aria. For everything. For Alaska. And for following you down to Florida.”
She didn’t know why, but her chest tightened and her throat burned.
“We’ll get through this storm, and back home, and I promise, you’ll never see me again.”
Then he turned and walked down the hall.