Page 47 of Westward

“Holy hell,” I grumbled.

“County kickbacks, and well, the town does what it can, but there’s only so much shitty insurance can do. It’s not much, but it’s home.” He poured dark coffee into a cup, and I told myself right then and there, I was going to buy this man and his people at least a better coffee machine and coffee. Maybe a fridge that didn’t look as if the door was going to fall off. And a fresh coat of paint.

I had all this money, and I tried to donate where I could and help my family, but this was my town. I might not live here full-time, and I might have avoided it for reasons of my own, but if this is what my town clinic looked like, I needed to find a way to fix it.

“Don’t look at me like that. We’re doing fine. The patient rooms and our equipment are much better in terms of the era we’re living in. The staff room doesn’t really get much love.”

“Seriously though, when have you slept last?” Thatcher asked, taking the offered cup of coffee. I shook my head, knowing that I was going to be the bougie prince at that.

The fire captain and town doctor didn’t seem to mind.

I’d catch heat for it later, but then again, I would catch heat for a whole shit ton of things I had done tonight.

“I was supposed to be off six hours ago, and I’m pissed, but there’s not much I can do about it now. I missed chicken nugget dinner with Quinn, and I’m going to have to make it up to him.”

Quinn was his youngest, and I knew his most sensitive. With what they had all gone through over the past few years, it was no wonder.

“They haven’t hired another full-time doctor yet?”

“It’s not in the town budget.”

“And town parades are?” I growled. “Fuck, please tell me that they didn’t use hospital money in order to have that stupid parade when I came home?”

“Yes, dearest prince. Our hard-earned money goes towards you and your beautification, just so you know how much you’re loved. The fatted calf was expensive this year, but we made do.” Thatcher winked as he said it, and I grit my teeth.

“Thatch.”

“It’s a different budget. A different thing altogether. Any town events come from donations and the Rotary budget. Not taxes. Don’t worry, you are not taking vitamins out of babies’ mouths.”

“I don’t know shit like this. I just stop pucks.” I shook my head. “I should probably learn how to do things like this.”

“What? Become a doctor who doesn’t sleep or spend any time with his kids? Not a great look.” Kellan shook his head. “You work seven days a week, usually, you just happen to be on the tiny sliver of time you get as vacation. It’s okay, Atlas. We do well. It’s just a hard time right now because of budget cuts, politics, and the fact that we’re shorthanded. But it all cycles through, at least the shorthandedness. And we have our eyes on a new nurse, hopefully. Then I’ll be able to actually staff the way I need to. Our admin’s off, and it just makes things difficult. But that’s not why you’re here.”

“What happened to Will?” I forced myself to release the painful grip I had on the chair in front of me and let out a breath.

“Will said I’m allowed to tell you, and I know Sheriff Grayson will be around to talk to you soon. But it was his foster dad, and that kid Jace.”

My eyes widened. “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought his dad was behind bars?”

Thatcher snarled. “He has a court date set, and he was forced to sober up overnight in the drunk tank, but that was about it. Not much they could do.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know why Sheriff Grayson didn’t tell you. I thought he had. I wouldn’t have let Elizabeth feel like she was in danger or anything, I promise.”

“Was she? Fuck. I’m not letting that woman out of my sight,” I growled.

“From the way you two are cuddling up to one another, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be a problem,” Kellan said.

I flipped him off. “Really? Now?”

“Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date?” Kellan asked. “Actually, don’t answer that. I need to live vicariously through you. And if it can’t be through your so-called playboy antics—something none of us actually believe here, by the way—we can live through childhood sweethearts finding their way back to one another.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.” And frankly, I didn’t.

Childhood sweethearts finding their way to one another? Was that it? Or were we stumbling into mistake after mistake? I didn’t know what I felt about that, other than the fact that I loved that woman and I didn’t want to let her go. But I had let her go the first time for a reason, and I had broken both of us. Even if she said she was the one to walk away for my sake, in reality, I was the one to take those steps. To go towards my dreams and leave her behind. There was no mutual parting, and the crap that we lied to each other about for all those years was only so we could breathe.

But I was coming home. I was coming back. To Lizzie. And she needed to realize that.