Cheryl Wyatt - Doctor to the Rescue

Bri watched him. Too carefully. “Would you and Tia like to have dinner with me?”

He rubbed the condensation on his glass. “I guess we could.” His stomach rumbled intense gratitude. “What time?”

“How does five sound?”

“Great, actually. That’ll give me a couple hours to wrangle the cabin that bucked you off its roof.” He smirked and reached for a washed cherry tomato she’d put in a bowl. The second he popped it in his mouth, his tongue cheered. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“I kinda noticed.” Bri grinned. “We’ll see you at five.”

Ian jogged past the trauma lot to Lakeview Road, where his yard sat two houses away from EPTC. He loaded work stuff in his truck and drove to Bri’s, not wanting Tia to have to trek home in the dark. Once there, he attacked cabin renovations with fervor.

A little over two hours later, his cell rang. “Hey, Bri.”

“Hi. Wanted to let you know dinner’s almost ready. Also, Tia’s still sleeping. She’s not feverish, so I don’t think she’s ill. But I wasn’t sure how long you wanted her to nap. Any longer and she’s liable not to sleep well tonight.”

If he got called in again, Tia wouldn’t sleep well, anyway. “Go ahead and let her sleep. I’ll grab a shower and be over.”

Her hesitation jabbed him. He needed more regular hours, but that couldn’t happen until they got a second trauma crew trained. Ian sprinted home, showered and walked back to Bri’s. The second she let him in, his taste buds watered in anticipation. “It smells amazing.”

So did she, as she leaned close to him to refresh his glass. “Vanilla?”

Her eyes rose. “No, just plain old tea.”

“I meant your perfume. It’s nice. So is the tea.” He inhaled the iced tea in two gulps. “Iced, even in winter?” he added since she shifted uncomfortably under his compliment. Best to keep things casual. Not personal.

“It’s Southern Illinois. People sit in hot tubs and drink sweet iced tea all year round, even on cool nights.”

“I can believe that.” He stretched his back and arms.

Her gaze skittered over him, then quickly away, eyes like a feather across his skin. She pulled out burgundy-cushioned bar stools at the kitchen counter dividing a warm-umber dining room from the canary-yellow kitchen. Her color choices were like the varying levels of her personality: shy but strong, bright and stark, each wall painted a different vivid, modern color.

Unlike his walls, which were a mix of muted, neutral, dark and subdued, which matched his personality right now.

For a brief second, Ian wished Bri knew the humorous, lighthearted, fun-loving guy he used to be. Then his marriage had imploded. Life would never be the same and he’d likely never be that guy again. Her words drifted back: That guy? I hope he sticks around. For the first time in a long time, Ian did, too.

But workload, stress and the pain of divorce didn’t promise to let up anytime soon, so it was doubtful.

Bri motioned him to a stool, then sat on one herself.

He eased onto the end stool, leaving two comfortably between them. He enjoyed the break on his feet. He’d been on them nearly twenty-six hours now. “Find any fairies today?”

She chuckled, lowering her gaze. Her lashes brushed the high slope of her cheek. “No, but the troll you tripped so gracefully over has been assigned by Tia to scout the yard for them.”

“I see. I’m not surprised Tia napped, actually. I had to drag her out of bed twice to bring her to the trauma center.”

She shifted thoughtfully. “How come? Did you get called in on a case or something?” She swiped a bead of tea off her lip.

He averted his gaze. “Yeah. Twice.” He should reassure her Tia hadn’t been unattended. Passed around amid nurses, yes. Left alone for one minute, no. “Staff took turns watching her.”

She adjusted her arm sling. “That won’t work long-term.”

Ian nodded, feeling fortunate to have Bri babysitting. She cared. “At least Tia’s not being shuffled around during the daytime, thanks to you.” Still, no wonder Tia’s moodiness had escalated this morning. She hadn’t had proper sleep. Bri was right. It couldn’t last. He was her only parent now. “I need to establish a routine and propagate proper sleep.”

A smile touched Bri’s lips.

“At least that’s what that bossy parenting book said.”

That made her laugh. He was glad. More than he should be.

He forced the smile back down. “I’d like to tell the book’s know-it-all author his ridiculous creative parenting ideas are easier said than done for time-strapped single parents in survival mode.”

She rubbed her arm above the cast. “What creative ideas?”

“Silly stuff, like making Christmas trees with stacked star cookies and caterpillars out of cupcakes and—”

She jerked. Eyes darted to the counter behind him. He turned, peering at the artistic culinary creations, including none other than a caterpillar cupcake.

He looked at Bri. Face down, she rubbed her arm again. Two things greatly concerned him. One, she seemed fearful he’d ridicule her for the cutesy cupcakes she and Tia had created. Second, she couldn’t seem to leave her arm alone.

“You keeping up with your pain meds, Bri?”

Her eyes veered even farther away. Yet the stubbornness befell her that Caleb had warned him about. “As much as possible. I don’t want to risk falling asleep with Tia here.”

“Aw, Bri. I considered that. You need—”

Her head shook. “No. I’m tough. I can take a little pain.”

She might have convinced him had the hollowness not haunted her eyes. She rose swiftly and went to work at the stove.

Ian followed, grabbing salad ingredients. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “I’m worried about Caleb. He hasn’t called.”

Ian froze, knife midslice in a cucumber. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from Caleb, either. Not since the day of Bri’s surgery. “I’ll call him. Find out what’s going on.”

Bri added carrots to the lettuce Ian tossed. “No, let me. I’m afraid if you call him, you’ll tell him about my injury.”

* * *

Bri grew alarmed when Ian tensed. “He doesn’t know, right?”

Tia must’ve woke because she shuffled in the next room. “Yes! I’m sure of it, Boom. They got hillbilly fairies in this here forest. And it’s not only haunted with fairy-eating trolls, it’s naked. All the PJs blew to the ground, Boom.”

Ian and Bri turned. Tia walked circles, play phone to her bed-head ear. Naked? The fairies or the forest? Bri wondered.

“How odd,” Ian said, watching Tia wear tracks on the wood parquet floor Bri had installed last week. At least she’d gotten her cabin renovated before falling, thus had a decent place to live.

“What’s odd? Boom? He’s Tia’s imaginary friend.”

He scowled. “She’s my daughter. I am well acquainted with Boom, the infamous scapegoat for Tia’s messy room. I meant odd in the sense that I pace like that when I’m on my cell phone.”

Bri felt like laughing at the fact that Ian didn’t seem the least bit alarmed by Tia’s talk of ill-attired fairies, fallen PJs or cannibalistic trolls. Yet at the same time, Bri’s ire rose at being scolded over explaining who Boom was.

She drew a deep breath to calm down. “I noticed her pacing. And you never answered my question about Caleb.”

His eyes flicked to her with annoyance before returning to rest on Tia. The look of wounded nostalgia entering his eyes caused Bri to stop pressing the Caleb issue. For now.

Ian might be standing here now but his mind was a world away. He watched Tia with a mix of regret and awe as she paced like he did. “I wonder what else she acquired from me,” he said, confirming Bri’s hunch.