Page 33 of Found in Wild Sage

She’s filling her plate before I can continue obsessing far too late over whether I’ve made the right meal, so I relax. A little.

“You know, I never imagined you in a place like this.” Her eyes catch mine and her cheeks brighten with a lovely blush. “I mean, I didn’t spend time thinking about it or anything, I just… I wouldn’t have guessed something so homey.”

“What would you have guessed?” There is no end to my curiosity here. The blush, her hinting that she’s thought of me at all. It’s all a delicious tease.

“Something reminiscent of your clothing color palette, I suppose.”

Those soft blue eyes flick up to meet mine. My diaphragm contracts, tense with the knowledge that she has any awareness of what I wear. But that’s nonsense because we see each other every day and she’s an intelligent, observant person.

“My lab coat is fairly boring. I suppose my wardrobe in general is, too.” I take in the warm, colorful home surrounding me. “I can’t take any credit for this place. Much of it is just the way my grandmother left it, aside from appliance and electronic upgrades, and a shocking absence of tchotchkes.”

She chuckles and brings a bite of meat to her mouth. Her brows arch while she chews, then swallows. “That’s delicious.” She covers her mouth with her hand for a moment, then pins me with a stern look. “Are you also a great cook?”

This emerges as an accusation more than a question.

“I’m decent at a few meals.” It may be an understatement, but I’m not sure. When my ex lived with me during med school, we functioned far more as roommates than people who were planning lives together. Of course I only see this in retrospect. We were too young, too busy, but one thing I loved was feeding her.

Unfortunately, that was one more part of why she stayed so long—one of many ways she was using me while I was in the dark.

Ah. There it is. It’s been a decade since it all fell apart and a stab of dread still rams itself in.

Especially when I think of Evie feeling anything like what Mallory did. Or, maybe, not feeling anything the way my ex did. And worse, of me continuing to fall for a woman who isn’t on the same trajectory.

But that’s why we’re here, and I’m sitting across from her, lovely and vibrant as always, knowing exactly what this is. I’m not oblivious. It was my idea in the first place.

We eat without talking for a few minutes. There are birds chirping outside and I remembered to turn on some music before she arrived. It’s low enough I can’t make out which song is on, but it helps keep us from total silence. It’s not awkward, but it’s clear we’re not yet at ease with each other.

I am rarely uncomfortable with quiet. I would rather listen than speak, especially if I don’t have something specific and meaningful to say.

But right now, I am aching to talk with her.

“Can you tell me a little about your life before you moved back to Juniper View? I’ve gathered you came back after your dad’s heart attack, but I don’t really know much else.” She spears a piece of grilled peach. “This is really good, by the way.”

It’s almost slow motion, the way she bites into the yellow-orange slice, the way the juice beads, then slides onto her full bottom lip, the way she pulls that lip into her mouth.

The way my stomach clenches and I leash my mind against the tempting image of my mouth taking that lip, tasting the smokey-sweet flavor on her tongue.

She smiles as though to encourage me to answer. I’m wrapped up in her so tightly, I can hardly think straight.

But pleasure at her words loosens my tongue. “I worked at Walter Reed before I came here. That’s the national military medical center. I began as a general surgeon, which is most of what I did there. Early on, I did emergency medicine as well. Most of my time in the military was spent at Walter Reed, though I did spend some time overseas. I also did a residency in family medicine through a special program, so my last few years were focused there.”

Her brow furrows and she finishes chewing a bite. “Wow. Surgeon and then a family medicine doctor. Did something change? Or was that always the plan?”

This question makes me squirm just a touch. “I had planned on surgery. It seemed most interesting, especially general surgery where there’s variety. But once I was a few years in, I became aware it wasn’t quite the right fit for me.”

I can’t explain it even now, except that I felt this pull towards home. I didn’t see that coming. I always assumed I’d be the one to do twenty years in the Army and then maybe come back to Utah, but not here to Juniper View.

“Any idea what it was?”

I nudge a few dark grains of rice around on my plate while summoning the right words. “It may sound dramatic, but the best way to explain it is to say my vision for my life shifted.”

“Wow. Was it something specific?”

I haven’t explained this to anyone but my parents, and only partly to them, but I want her to understand. I want someone to understand, but in this moment, I feel I need her to understand.

“It was a series of things—a long list of complex surgeries on young men and women whose lives were forever changed by their experiences overseas. Medical evacuations out of war zones to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center where I was stationed at the time, families bedraggled from last minute trans-Atlantic flights afraid of facing their new reality, and losing one patient in particular that shot a gut-level terror through me because he was so like me—early thirties at the time, single, career-focused officer, and dead with only his mother and father to mourn him.”

Her eyes are limned with tears. Of course they are. Her compassion is endless, so of course she would feel for this unnamed man.