Emma barked happily as she chased the receding waves, kicking sand up behind her and wagging her tail as fast as it would go. When the waves lapped against the sand again, she ran back, spinning in circles and behaving like a small puppy. Lauren watched, envious.
It had been a month since the incident and she’d received no word from the prosecutor on the status of the case. She knew that Jack was still locked up and that, a week ago, he’d received a black eye from one of the other prisoners, but wouldn’t reveal the identity of his attacker, so his lawyers were pushing for the trial to be moved up. She’d only found this out by Sheriff McNally, though, and the older man had laughed through his explanation of the whole ordeal. He’d practically been in stitches on her kitchen table. Lauren couldn’t help but take a small bit of delight in it as well.
“The FBI is refusing to move the trial up, though. They say that they’ve already given him what he wanted with the speedy trial bullshit, but that if he felt unsafe in the jail, he could just go into solitary.” He shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Doc; that man you married is a real tool.”
Lauren nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up her spine at the thought of what Jack Snyder had done to her. McNally seemed to sense this and he put down his mug, reaching out for her hand.
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” he assured her. “You’re safe.”
“But for how long?” she asked. “Jack is a wealthy man. He can afford the best lawyers. What if they find some kind of loophole and free him? What if he finds me again? What if there’s nobody there to stop him from—”
“Don’t think like that,” the sheriff said. “Just stay positive, alright? He’s going away, for a long time. I promise.”
Lauren nodded, wishing that she could believe him.
The breeze blew through her hair, making the strands flutter around her cheeks, tickling her skin as she watched the sun begin to set over the horizon. She still had a mountain of paperwork sitting on her kitchen table, but it was one of the few last warm days of the year before the winter chill set in and she wanted to enjoy it. Especially since she knew that it could be her last chance to do so in Slightuckett.
She’d been looking at listings in cities all over the East and West Coast, looking for homes on the beach, where she could get a similar view. Where Emma could continue to chase the waves and Lauren could continue to watch the sun set from the beach. Where she could feel as calm and safe as she does, right here, right now.
Nothing spoke to her. Not like Slightuckett, Rhode Island.
Other than looking at homes, Lauren had also been interviewing for jobs in all the nearby cities. But word had spread quickly that she was looking for a trauma fellowship and she’d already received several offers from hospitals all over the country, including some top-choice trauma centers. She had them all written down on post-its around her house, in an attempt to inspire her into picking one.
She had no idea if any of them was what she wanted, though. No idea if trauma was where her future was.
Of course it is! her mind chastised, several times a day, as she sat in her office at work. What else are you going to do? Spend your life in some tiny town, prescribing antibiotics for runny noses and performing routine checkups? Where’s the excitement in that? That’s not what you’re trained for! You should be saving lives!
Lauren buried her feet in the lukewarm sand and watched Emma splash around for a few moments more, mulling over her options. She could stay in Slightuckett. She could be a plain old family doctor. She could live without surgery. After all, she’d gone this long without cutting anybody open. She could go longer. She could probably go the rest of her life without ever holding a scalpel again.
But that’s what she had said—basically—about men.
After Jack…did what he did to her, Lauren had sworn off ever trusting another man for the rest of her life. She had put up walls around her heart and her body and kept to herself as much as possible over the next two years, sure that she couldn’t be comfortable with any man as she’d been with Jack, in the beginning. There was always that chance that it could happen again.
But then Marc Kelly had come along and tore every wall down within seconds of meeting. She’d felt that connection instantaneously. Had felt the passion and the trust and that surge of…something that she just couldn’t name until it was almost too late. She’d tried not to feel anything emotional. She’d tried to lose herself in the sex—the amazing, earth-shattering, toe-curling sex—and do as Marc said.
But she couldn’t.
Why couldn’t she?
Emma’s bark woke her from her thoughts before she came to the answer and Lauren blinked, noticing, for the first time, that the sky was starting to fall dark with the oncoming dusk. Emma had trotted back up the beach on her own and was now standing at attention by Lauren’s feet, her beloved ball in her sandy mouth. Her master smiled at her and reached out, patting her head.
“Ready to go back in, Em?” she asked. The dog waved her tail at the recognition of her own name, dancing a bit on her front paws. “Okay,” Lauren said, rising to her feet and grabbing her shoes from the sand next to her. She started up the beach, Emma at her heels, and stomped up the steps to her deck, her mind spinning with all the possibilities her future held.
She supposed she should count herself as lucky. She had so many people vying for her attention. She had hospitals bribing her to take jobs that anybody else would kill for; she had neighbors and friends in the townspeople that she had healed and lived with for two years now; she had a life and what might even be described as a family. She had so much more than she’d believed she would before she came here, before she decided to run away.
The only question was whether she wanted to believe she deserved it.
*****