Page 11 of Careless Hope
Dad cleared his throat. “Caroline, your mother and I only want the best for you. But don’t let anyone rush you into something you’re not ready for. You’ve got time.”
Mom raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her gaze as she regarded Dad. “Time’s a-ticking, Tom. We all know how fast it flies.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly feeling like the main course on the dinner table, under scrutiny from both sides. Their contrasting views on my personal life were like two opposing currents converging into a tempest within me.
“I appreciate your concern, Mom, Dad. I really do,” I began cautiously, trying to navigate treacherous waters. “But can we please just focus on one crisis at a time?”
Dad chuckled lightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Who knew finding a good man could be considered a crisis?”
“I meant winning over your patients.”
“They’re your patients now, Care Bare.”
“Right. Anyway, it’s getting late,” I said, using the creeping dusk outside as an excuse to escape the mounting pressure.
“Alright, honey. Just remember what I said,” Mom replied, her eyes tracing my every move as I stood from the table.
“Will do, Mom. Thanks for dinner,” I murmured, planting a kiss on her cheek before wrapping Dad in a quick hug.
Stepping out into the cool evening, the vast expanse of the sky stretched out above me like a canvas painted with stars. My parents’ voices faded behind the closing door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As I walked to my car, the gravel crunched beneath my feet, asteady rhythm to the chaos in my head. The town had always been a part of me, yet I felt like a stranger trying to fit into a puzzle where all the pieces had changed shape.
“Focus on the practice,” I whispered to myself, letting the night swallow my words.
A short drive later, my key turned in the lock with a satisfying click, and I stepped into the stillness of my new old house. Boxes towered like cardboard sentinels guarding the remnants of a life I was only just beginning to unpack. A sigh escaped me as I flicked on the lights, the soft glow chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt that had hitched a ride home from my parents’ place.
“Surprise!”
The shout jolted me out of my reverie, and I spun around to see Sutton and another woman bursting through the door, each brandishing a bottle of wine like victorious cowboys in a saloon.
Sutton used her wine bottle to point to the familiar looking woman with long brown hair. “Caroline, this is Eryn. She fell in love with my dumb, stubborn cousin and is now one of my closest friends. Eryn, this is my lifelong bestie, Dr. Caroline Cressley.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she beamed. It was then that I realized just who she was.
“Eryn Blake, right?”
“Guilty as charged.”
I felt like this was some sort of Twilight Zone episode, but then I remembered my mom telling me about how Gray Anderson had gone and fallen in love with a world-famous heiress and influencer. Mom didn’t even know what an influencer was, but she passed along the gossip like a pro.
Apparently she’d come to town for a vacation and simply never left. I didn’t have time to pay much attention to the worldof pop culture and social media, but I’d known who Eryn was. Everyone did. And I had to admit, she looked great standing in front of me tonight. Montana life must be agreeing with her.
Walker hadn’t mentioned her at breakfast, but then again, I got the feeling that his brother was a sore subject at times.
I led the way back to the kitchen, where my unpacking procrastination was on full display. Boxes lined the walls, leading into the attached den. Some were stacked four or five high, and others were open, half-rummaged through as I’d searched for one thing or another.
“I may have run into Lisa, who may have told me you weren’t unpacked yet. Figured you could use some reinforcements,” Sutton said, her smile as warm as the fresh bread from her bakery.
“Or at least a drink,” Eryn added, her bohemian bangles jingling as she set down the wine and started to rummage through cabinets for glasses.
“I’m afraid everything is still a mess. I haven’t had the time, or really the energy, to get unpacked.”
“Thats why we’re here! Don’t worry about a thing.”
We settled into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing as naturally as the merlot we poured. Sutton perched on the edge of my kitchen counter, while Eryn commandeered the couch, tucking her legs beneath her.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” I murmured, my fingers tracing the stem of my glass. “I’ve been so wrapped up in the clinic, it feels like I haven’t had a minute to breathe.”
