Page 58 of Off the Trail

My chest tightens but I manage to talk without my voice breaking. “Wow, you’re pulling the mom card.” She’s my employer, but she’s also the closest thing I have to a parent anymore. I’m not mad—the tightness in my chest eases into a wave of tenderness. Marika doesn’t have kids of her own. She’s close with her nephew Josh, but he lives in Boston and only comes up once or twice a year. I’m the one who sees her day in and day out, the one who’s her neighbor. The one she gave a lifeline to when I was struggling to take care of Brooke and pretend I was a grown man who could provide for myself and my sister both.

I gaze at her familiar, comforting face. “Marika, I appreciate the concern. And maybe it’s warranted, I don’t know.” Right now I’m not feeling all that great about our chances. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Shawn. But I like him a lot. And he likes me.” It sounds kind of weak, but it’s all I have.

She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“I trust you.”

My shoulders straighten at the stamp of approval. “By the way, Brooke’s involved with her boss.”

Marika’s jaw drops. “The dentist?”

“Yep, Dr. Rocky,” I say with big brother vindictive satisfaction.

“How did I not know about this?” She sounds flabbergasted.

“I just found out myself.” And Brooke and I have barely spoken since she told me. I sigh. I wish I could go to the construction site, have dinner with Shawn, and maybe get some reassurances from him that what we have isn’t some weird trauma response. But my sister comes first. “Marika, I have to go.”

Chapter 24

Blaze

If I leave soon, I’ll be at the dental office just before they close. I feed Misty an early dinner from a stash of food I keep at the boathouse. While she eats, I write Shawn a note I leave taped to the door of cabin three. Then, Misty and I drive forty minutes to Naples. Only two cars are parked outside the dental clinic—Brooke’s SUV and a sensible station wagon with a vanity plate that reads “T00THDR.”

I roll my eyes, leave Misty in the cab, and let myself in the front door. A chime sounds, but no one’s at the front desk.

“Can I help—” my sister’s words die in her throat when she sees me. I always get a kick out of her in work scrubs, her hair pinned back all professional. “What’s wrong?” she asks, eyes widening.

“Nothing,” I say, and her shoulders instantly sag in relief. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Is everything okay, Brooke?” A man’s voice comes from around the corner.

“All good. It’s my brother,” she calls back.

“I thought we could get some dinner and talk,” I say, feeling out of place.

“Oh. Well.” She looks over her shoulder at the man walking into the reception area. “Rocky, you remember my brother.”

I set my gaze on Dr. McCallum and take him in with a critical eye. The guy my sister’s dating is average height, with brown hair, brown eyes, a couple of moles dotting his clean-shaven oval face. He’s very ordinary. My mind settles on the word with a meanness that surprises me. But he’s offering me a hand to shake, along with a smile that seems genuine.

“Blaze, nice to see you again.”

I shake his hand with a touch more force than necessary. “Thanks. Yeah. I was just seeing if Brooke wanted to get some dinner.”

“Rocky and I were going to⁠—”

“Oh, that’s okay, you two can go ahead⁠—”

They talk over each other, and I break through the stalemate. “You can come too, doctor, uh, Rocky.”

“Are you sure?” Brooke asks.

I nod. “Why not?”

So that’s how we find ourselves at a pizza joint on Route 302 with a pitcher of beer on the table and an extra-large pepperoni on the way. My sister’s got the shearling jacket I gave her last Christmas over her scrubs, and Dr. Rocky has a blazer on over a collared shirt. Could the guy be any more square?