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“You should go. Dance with them.”
“Someone has to watch the drinks.”
“Mmhm,” she hums, clearly dubious. I feel her eyes scan me. “You are always taking care of other people.”
“It is my job. Literally.”
“If I may ask…when you are done taking care of everyone else, who takes care of you?”
“I’m self-sufficient,” I retort. “Like a cat.”
She shrugs. “Even cats need a scratch behind the ears every now and then.”
“Don’t make me cough up a hairball.”
She laughs. Then a customer calls her name on the far end of the bar, so she rises from her elbows. “Try to have some fun, Dr. Donovan,” she chides before she goes. “It won’t kill you.”
Won’t it?
Kenzi and Jason come back to the bar. Kenzi is breathless, her cheeks flushed. “How long do we have?”
“Under a minute.”
“Can we go outside?” she asks, her gaze bouncing between the two of us. “I’d love some fresh air.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” I swipe my leather jacket off the back of the barstool and slip into the sleeves.
63
Kenzi
There’s relief as soon as we step outside—a cold burst of air that feels like a kiss against my skin. The heat and sound of the Anchor were all at once suffocating…
But this. This feels nice.
The Anchor is tucked away on the edge of the cliff, within walking distance of the Lighthouse Medical Center. I can see the glow of the building through the pine trees.
I can still hear the clamor of noise inside, but it’s muffled now. More importantly, I can hear the sound of the surf. When I glance up, the sky is so inky black, it sucks my breath away. It’s covered in stars—a winter spread, the Big Bear hanging low in the sky. He won’t climb back up across the hemisphere until summer again.
Will I be here to see him make his trek? The future seems like sand between my fingers, so impossible to grasp…but right now, I’m okay with that.
Everything is changing. The year. My son. Me. But it feels manageable…so long as I have these two men beside me.
Maybe I don’t know what’s coming. But I know that I feel stronger here. Drinking in the night sky with Jason and Donovan.
Inside, I can hear them start the countdown. A couple of smokers outside pick it up.
“Three…two…one!”
Jason’s arms gently slip around my middle. This time, I don’t pull away.
Instead, I lean into it. I twist my body around, rise to the tips of my toes, and connect my lips with his.
We enter 2019 with a soft, sweet kiss. He tastes like tequila, and my thumping heartbeat, and Jason.
Out of the corner of my eye, a shuffle of movement beside us. Donovan—the lone wolf—kisses no one when the ball drops.
Jason and I apparently have the same thought at the same time—that won’t do.
