Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
My whole body had gone taut with anger, listening to the story. “For handing out one inhaler?!”
“You know how much it cost?” she asked, her voice bitter. “Forty-three dollars. I could have paid for it myself, I literally offered them the money out of my purse, but the money wasn’t the point.” She shrugged. “I get it. I broke the rules. But—”
“They didn’t have to kick you out!” I stared down into those big brown eyes. She suddenly looked so lost and I knew why. Medicine was what she was meant to do, she had the instinct for it. “Can you go back?”
“I could start over at another school, but there’s no way I could afford it. Do you know how much debt you build up, as a med student? I still have it. There aren’t that many jobs for people with half a medical degree. That’s how I wound up at the call center. It barely paid enough to cover the interest on the loan.” She blinked a few times and I could see her eyes getting wet. She taped some gauze over the scratches. “There. You’re done.” She jumped to her feet.
Without thinking, I grabbed hold of her wrist. As soon as I did, it was like I’d touched a live wire. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, and a heated, urgent energy throbbed through my fingers. She caught her breath and froze, gazing down at me.
I struggled for words. “You would have been a great doctor.”
She nodded quickly and looked away.
I got to my feet and looked down at her. I just wanted to pull her into my arms and hug her. But the way I felt right now, the hug would turn into a kiss. And I couldn’t let that happen.
“Come on,” I forced myself to say. “We still have a long way to go.”
26
Bethany
AROUND MIDDAY, we jumped across a small creek, climbed a rise, and suddenly there it was below us: Marten Valley.
It was a tiny place with old-fashioned, wood-built stores, some of which looked like they’d been there a hundred years or more. Lovingly-painted gold lettering on the windows invited you to come and browse in McLeary’s General Store, or wrap up warm with a jacket from Arlan Co. Outfitters. With the sea of red and amber forest around it and blue sky overhead, it was beautiful.
Cal had explained on the walk that north of here, the woods got more populated and that this was the nearest town for everyone within ten miles or so. You could tell. The sidewalks were packed: people were carrying sacks of groceries back to their pickups, taking dogs and cats to the veterinarian or bringing armfuls of mail to the post office. And everyone knew each other. They stopped to gossip, leaning against shop fronts, sitting on steps, or slowing their pickups (everyone seemed to drive a pickup) to say hello.
Except for Cal. As we walked down the street, no one greeted him. He’d been in the area for six years, surely by now they’d know him, even if he only visited town every three or four months?
Then I turned and looked at him. He was walking head down, jaw set, a scowl on his face, just as he’d been at Tucker’s gas station. His whole posture screamed leave me alone! And with his huge, muscled body, no one dared to argue. When we got off the crowded street and into a store, the scowl faded but he was still unsettled: he kept glancing out of the windows, looking longingly at the forest. Rufus pushed up hard against his legs, aware that something was wrong.
He didn’t want to be around people, around civilization. And if a place as small as Marten Valley bothered him this much, then going to Seattle must have been pure hell. Whatever he’d been doing there when he first met me, it must have been something that meant the world to him.
We stopped at the outfitters first, where I picked up jeans, t-shirts and a few thick plaid shirts in my size. Then a few tank tops, because sometimes when we were sitting around in the cabin in the evening with the stove on, it got pretty warm. I held one up against me for Cal to see. “You think this is okay?”
He looked at it, and for just a second, his tension seemed to dissolve. He looked away, his cheeks going pink. “Fine.”
I looked down at the tank top, mystified. I guess the scoop neck came a little low, but I was holding it up on top of my clothes. Wait, was he imagining how my breasts would look in it? Now my cheeks colored and a rush of heat went snaking down my body.
We found me a pair of boots and several pairs of socks and the simple pleasure of having footwear that fit, after weeks of hobbling around in Cal’s newspaper-stuffed boots, was amazing. I was very glad to get hold of some bras and panties, too.