The Best Medicine

Chapter 32



“WHERE’S TYLER?” MY MOTHER ASKED when I came in from the patio.

“He’s not feeling well, but he’ll be inside in a minute.” I gave her the biggest, brightest, happiest fake smile I could muster. Sure, my parents had ruined a few of my birthdays and most of my childhood, but I was not going to ruin their wedding reception because Tyler Connelly had just dumped me. At least I think he’d dumped me. God, it felt like he’d dumped me. It felt as if he’d ice-skated across my chest. My heart was broken in so many pieces even my parents couldn’t stitch it back together.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I hope his stomach’s not upset from the lobster ravioli. Your father said it was too rich. We should have gone with the beef Wellington. I should have listened.”

“Let that be a lesson to you, Dr. Rhoades,” my father said, coming up beside us. “If you’d listened to me twenty-three years ago, we could’ve been together all this time.”

“What? And give up that yearly gorilla-gram to celebrate our divorce?”

Both my parents chuckled, awash in the joy of their rediscovered love affair. And I burst into tears at the demolishment of mine.

“Evie, Evie, what’s the matter?” My mother turned me by the shoulders to face her.

Please let someone invent teleporting right now. Please have them zap me to another space and time. I was not standing with my parents right now, crying like a sixteen-year-old girl over a thoughtless boy. I couldn’t be.

And yet, I was.

“Where’s the kid?” my father said, patting my back none too gently, as if he was trying to burp the tears out. I assumed by kid, he meant Tyler.

“He’s taking a walk,” I said, gulping in a mouthful of air and trying to compose myself.

“Come on. Let’s go sit down.” My mother led me to the tiny room she’d changed in before the wedding, and the three of us sat down on the tiny couch. My father’s ice clinked in his glass.

“Evelyn, tell us what happened,” my mother said. Her voice was no-nonsense, as if she were taking a patient history.

I shook my head and pressed my hands to my face. “I’m not really sure. Except I did something I thought was going to be a great thing, but it turns out it was a terrible thing.” I still didn’t understand how I’d ended up the bad guy in this scenario.

“But what was it?” she pressed on. “What did you do?”

“I paid his bills.”

“His bills?” my father said.

I reached over and took his glass of Glenfiddich. This occasion called for a drink. “Yes, I paid off some of his debts so that he could afford to take a paramedic training course. Horrible of me, huh?” I took a sip. This scotch was officially mine.

“Well, I don’t know, Evelyn. Did he ask you to?” My father brushed a lock of hair back over my shoulder. I tried to recall the last time he’d done something like that. I think my mother had finally succeeded in tenderizing him.

“No, of course he didn’t ask me to. He’d never ask me to pay for anything, and now he’s afraid everyone in town will think he’s pathetic and needs my help.”

“Ah, pride. That’s a tough one. It takes a mighty strong man to show a little weakness. I think you might have insulted him.” My father tried to take his scotch back but I held on tight.

“How is it insulting to help someone?” I asked.

“Because it implies weakness, Evie,” my mother said, patting my hand. “I used to think every time your father tried to help me it was because he thought I couldn’t do it for myself. And I’d get so mad, but he was just trying to be gallant. Isn’t that right, darling?”

My father nodded. “I was so gallant she once cut all my ties in half.”

“Shh. That was for something else. Don’t ruin this moment.” She patted my hand again.

I snuffled back another sob. “Tyler makes these grand gestures for his own family all the time, and I do this one thing and he can’t see how it’s the same? He kept his brother out of jail, he makes his mother’s house payments, he brought me soup when I was sick. He does stuff for people all the time. It’s what will make him a great paramedic.”

“So where is he now?” my father asked.

“I don’t know. We just had this fight on the patio and he took off.”

I heard my mother scoff. “Oh, goodness. That doesn’t sound so bad. Your father and I have had bigger fights over where to squeeze the toothpaste. I bet he comes back any minute.”

My father nodded. “Yes, I’m sure your mother is right. She usually is. And even if it takes him a while to come around, there are worse flaws than pride.”

“Hey, I have some pride too, you know. It’s not fair that he’s mad because I tried to do something nice.”

“Of course, darling,” my mother said, smoothing out the chiffon of her wedding dress. “You have a right to be mad, but don’t let it turn into a twenty-three-year argument. If he’s important enough to you that you’d pay off his debts, I hope he’s important enough for you to work through this.”

My father put his arm around me. “Do you need us to sit here with you until he comes back? Because we will if you want.”

My mother took my glass and sipped the scotch. “Of course we will. If you need us, we’ll sit here all night.”

Who were these two? These warm, compassionate, sensitive parents? Apparently the aliens had gotten to my father too. But I was grateful. Still, this was their wedding night. They shouldn’t have to spend it babysitting me.


“I’m fine, you guys. Thanks. Go on upstairs. I’m sure Tyler will be along any minute.”

“Are you sure?” my mother asked, handing back the glass. I felt adored by their attention. Maybe them getting back together was a good thing after all.

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on. Pleasant dreams.”

They stood up, each squeezing one of my shoulders, then walked out of the room hand in hand, like a couple of high school sweethearts. Adorável.

I sat in that little room until I’d finished my father’s drink and finally wandered into the lobby to wait for Tyler. Because surely he’d be back any minute.

Only he wasn’t.

Eleven o’clock came and went. I talked to every person still downstairs, until it was just me and my drunk uncle Marv.

Midnight turned today into tomorrow, and still no Tyler. I couldn’t decide if I was tragically wounded by his absence or ragingly furious. It was about forty-nine to fifty-one right now, except that I had to throw worried into that mix. I had no idea where he was. He could still be walking, I supposed. Maybe he’d planned to stalk all the way back to Bell Harbor. If that was the case, he’d be soaking wet now, because it had been raining for the last half hour. Or maybe he’d been eaten by a bear. If that was the case, I was kind of rooting for the bear right about now. Or maybe Tyler had wandered into a nearby tavern and was drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey.

Or maybe he was up in our room.

Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner? Maybe he’d been up there this whole time watching pay-per-view porn. That had to be where he was. I said good night to drunk Uncle Marv and headed upstairs. I got to our frilly, romantically decorated room.

No Tyler.

And no luggage either. I realized then we’d arrived so late that we’d never brought it in from the car.

This night was a bust. A horrible, awful, ass-kicking bust. All I wanted to do was climb in that bed and dream this day had never happened. But I wanted my toothbrush. And my fuzzy slipper socks. I couldn’t sufficiently wallow in my self-pity without my slipper socks. I was going to have to go to the car. I found my keys, went back down to the lobby, and headed out into the drizzling rain.

I got halfway to the car when he said my name, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, spinning around and pointing my keys outward to jab my assailant. But of course, it was Tyler.

“Evie?”

“Holy shit! Geez, Tyler, you scared me half to death. What are you doing out here in the rain?”

He looked terrible. Aside from being drenched, his suit was torn and there were smudges of dirt all over that nice white shirt.

“That’s kind of a funny story,” he said quietly. “If you let me back inside the hotel, I’ll tell you.”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay mad. He’d hurt my feelings. He’d made me cry in front of my parents. And he’d broken my heart.

But he was Tyler. And so I said, “Fine. I just came out to get the luggage.”

I opened the car door, and he reached in to get both bags. The walk back in was silent. I wanted to kick him in the shins for scaring me, hurting me, worrying me. And most of all, for making me think we had a great thing going and then tossing it away just because I’d nicked his pride.

We got back to the room, and he changed into a pair of dry jeans and a T-shirt in the bathroom. I wanted to change too. This maid of honor dress was miserable, and it felt like I’d had it on for about nine days. But all I had were my clothes for the drive home tomorrow and a slutty nightgown that I had hoped would have been ripped off me by now.

I sat in the middle of the bed, and Tyler came to sit beside me. I took that as a positive sign, but I still had no idea of the state of our affair.

“So where the hell have you been?” I asked.

He ran a hand over his hair. “Well, you know that beautiful creek that runs through the property? The one we could see during the ceremony?” He adjusted the pillows and leaned back.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the banks of that are pretty damn steep. And slippery. And impossible to see once it gets dark.”

“Are you telling me you fell into the creek?” I felt a spark of vindication. I wasn’t proud of that, but there it was.

“Pretty much. I spent about two hours down there, trying to find a spot to get back into the yard. Pulling on tree branches that I could reach. Slipping back into the water. I took on a couple of muskrats. That was pretty scary. Mean little bastards.” He moved another pillow and patted it for me. I ignored that.

He kept talking. “Then I finally scrambled my way up and out and back to the patio. I watched you talk to that old guy in the lobby for a while. I should’ve come in then, but I just felt too . . . absurd.”

I nearly wanted to laugh. At him. With him. But I was still too upset. I couldn’t help being a little bit glad that he’d been suffering. I was my parents’ daughter, after all.

“Well, it serves you right. Why did you go stomping away like that? I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me.”

He sighed, big and heavy. “I know. I know you don’t, Evie, but I had a plan, and you messed it up.”

He sounded like his brother. Whatever plan he had, this was not my fault. “What plan?”

“I sold my boat.”

I turned toward him so fast my spine cracked.

“You what? Why would you do that? You love that boat.”

His gaze at me was earnest, raw. “Yeah, I do. But I love you more.”

Joy, confusion, frustration, hope—they hit me from every angle and with such varied intensity I nearly fell off the bed.

“I don’t understand, Tyler.”

He reached out and took my hand. “I saw that list of what you thought was the perfect husband, and it made angry. Not at you, at me.” He looked down and toyed with the bracelet on my wrist. “I wanted to be that guy. And I could have been. I could’ve gone back to school, Evie, but it was easier to quit. Easier to blame my mom’s situation or Scotty or my knee or whatever. But the fact is, I could’ve figured it out. I just felt sorry for myself. It was hard when my dad died. But shit happens, you know. You dust yourself off and try again.”

“But that’s what you already do. You do dust yourself off and try again. More than anybody I’ve ever known.” How could he not see that?

“Yeah, maybe.” His voice was frustration cloaked in resilience. “At any rate, I sold the boat so I could pay off those debts and give myself a clean slate. It’s time to give up a dream that is never going to provide financial security. I need something more concrete. More reliable and lucrative. You see, the thing is, Evie, I don’t worry too often about impressing people. I am who I am. People know me. But since meeting you, for the first time in my life, I’m wishing I was more. More because I want to be . . . enough for you.”

My heart squeezed tight at his vulnerability. “I don’t need you to be more. I just need you to be you. You are enough for me.”

“You say that, but I’m not sure it’s true. You want marriage and kids and financial security. I don’t want to spend my life wondering if you have regrets about any of that.”

“Tyler, the marriage and the kids can wait. And the financial security I already have. The only thing I don’t have is somebody to share my time with. That’s the thing I want the most. That matters more than degrees or income.”


“Not according to your list.”

“Forget the list. It was stupid and ignorant. And if I made one now it would have completely different things on it.” I moved a little closer.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” The tiniest of smiles tilted his lips.

“Like sense of humor, and honesty, and generosity.”

He frowned a little. I scooted closer and lay down on my stomach so I was looking up at him as he leaned back against the headboard.

“Perfect facial symmetry.”

And the smile was back. Finally, some dimples. “What?”

“Your face has perfect balance. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you. But you know what I’ve learned about you since then?”

“What?” His voice dropped lower, huskier. I might get to wear that racy nightie after all.

“I’ve learned that you’ll look after me when I’m sick, that you love dogs, that you’ll do anything and everything necessary to take care of the people you love. That’s the stuff that really matters, Tyler. That’s the stuff that made me fall in love with you.” I moved up as he slid down so we were lying side by side.

“You do?”

I nodded. “Very much. I love the way you laugh, and make me laugh. I love how you worry about me. And honestly, I love that you want to restart your dad’s charter company. I’m incredibly sad that you sold that boat.”

His smile dimmed. “I’m sad that I sold it not knowing you’d already paid those bills. But nothing has been signed yet.”

“You think you could cancel the sale?”

“There’s no money in fishing, Evie. I’ll never be rich.”

“I don’t need you to be rich. I just need you to be you.” I kissed him then, because I simply couldn’t wait any longer. The last few hours had been awful, thinking he was gone from my life. Because I loved Tyler Connelly, whether he was a paramedic or a fisherman or a dog walker. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was that he was mine.

And mine I made him. We kissed, and we tussled, and we soared. My maid of honor dress was thoroughly dishonored by the time we were through, but Tyler and I were satisfied and happy. We were in love. It just took a little leap of faith.

Cuddled up on the covers a while later, I traced my finger along his tattoo. “So what’s the first thing you noticed about me?”

Tyler chuckled. “Honestly?”

“Of course.”

He smiled, big and bright. “The glitter in your hair. I was kind of drunk, you know. I thought you might be an angel. Turns out I was right.”





Acknowledgments

No book is written alone, and I am truly grateful for the support and friendship I’ve received as this one grew from the tiny glimmer of an idea to a full-fledged love story.

Thanks to my dedicated and tireless team at Montlake Publishing. I appreciate you more than you will ever know.

Thanks to my agent, Nalini Akolekar. Your guidance, support, and sense of humor keep me sane and grounded. You are Wonder Woman, but in a more tasteful outfit.

Thanks to Elizabeth Otto for sharing, at a moment’s notice, her invaluable insight into being an EMT. Thanks to Anna Pakiela for sharing her knowledge and patiently explaining to me various aspects of the legal system, especially since my own corrections officer was unavailable for comment. Thanks to Dave Pierangeli for providing additional legal guidance on this book. Any errors in those areas are entirely mine. (Now might be a good time to also thank Dave for moving furniture for me upon occasion.)

Thanks to the beautiful Madeline Martin. She knows why, but I’ll let her explain that herself.

Thanks to Robin Allen for suggesting M&M’s scatter when they hit the floor. That was just the metaphor I needed!

Thanks to Cherry Adair for her support, enthusiasm, and her Post-it plotting madness.

Thanks to the handy little translator inside my computer that magically adapted English phrases to Portuguese. I sincerely apologize for any mangling I may have done to that beautiful language.

Thanks to Kelsey Shipton for her wonderful help with Hold on My Heart, and for not being mad that I failed to thank her sooner!

Thanks to Samhita for always making me belly laugh, and for pointing out there is no sport in shooting a goat. Thanks to Jane, Sheila, and Kim for packing up my house so I could move three days after this book was finished. Thanks to Gabby, Hillery, and Meredith for being the eternal sunshine in my life. And for never revealing where I’ve hidden the bodies.

Thanks to Alyssa Alexander, Kimberly Kincaid, and Jennifer McQuiston. For so many reasons. They are countless but I hope you know them all. Thanks to Kieran, Liz, Catherine, Darcy, Ash, Tammy, and Kim. Your friendship keeps this job fun, even during those moments when it’s . . . well . . . less fun.

Thanks to Adam Levine and Phillip Phillips for unknowingly providing the soundtrack to this story.

Thanks to Paul Walker for unknowingly providing inspiration to many a romance writer. A light has gone out. You will be missed.

And last, but never least, thank you to my husband, kids, sisters, and wonderful family members who have given me more support than any one person deserves. I am blessed. Without you guys, none of the rest matters.