This was not how he’d expected the story to go. He’d never felt like this, not as a grown man, at least. She was everything he’d ever wanted, even as messed up as he knew she was.
He would tell her the truth tomorrow and hope she’d forgive his subterfuge. And pray like hell Josh Hamilton really was dead as a doornail. Because he didn’t want anything to come between him and Aubrey. Not ever again.
But he had to go carefully. He still had questions, questions he didn’t want to ask Aubrey. He didn’t want to ruin what he had with her.
He pulled the card out of his pocket.
Dialed the number. Got voicemail. Debated hanging up, then steeled himself. You have to do this, Chase. You can’t quit now.
“Sergeant Parks, this is Chase Boden. We met at Aubrey Hamilton’s house earlier in the week. I was hoping you’d have time for a quick chat. Please call me back.”
He was surprised when the phone rang five minutes later. The caller ID showed a 615 area code. Parks.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Boden? This is Sergeant Bob Parks. What can I do for you?”
CHAPTER 38
Josh
Six Years Ago
Josh Hamilton was drinking coffee in the Starbucks across the street from Vanderbilt’s campus, as was his daily habit once his time at the hospital was finished. The coffee shop’s clientele was mixed: young, shiny-haired coeds and jeans-clad, sunglasses-wearing country music stars; aging, exhausted doctors and beautiful young trophy wives. It always gave him something to look at.
He settled into his favorite seat by the window near 21st Avenue. It had been a hard day. He’d just finished his first set of rounds on the surgical floor, and he was so tired his hands were shaking, and so exhilarated it would take hours to come down from the high.
Medical school was challenging, hard on the brain and on the body, even with a little bump here and there—they all did amphetamines; it was like mainlining caffeine. He’d resisted when they were first offered around but soon gave in. You had to do something to stay awake forty-eight hours straight. He’d known school would be difficult, had even desired that a bit, but he’d had no idea how taxing it would be on the body, and the mind. And today, he’d been faced with a wholly new challenge.
He’d always known what he wanted: to be a family practitioner. An old-fashioned make-house-calls, get-involved-in-patients’-lives, deliver-three-generations-of-babies-out-in-the-woods doctor. He’d seen Doc Hollywood when he was a kid and the message stuck. The idea that people who had less than he did deserved to be taken care of in exactly the same fashion as people with millions was intoxicating. He knew it would take a special man to be that kind of doctor. And he was certain he was up to the challenge. Made of all the right stuff. Honestly, he’d dreamed about it for so long he already felt he was.
But rounds this morning, his first surgical tour—he’d been completely seduced. With the slash of a knife, people could be made whole again. It was a skill he could bring to bear on his practice. If he was trained in surgery, he could be the only doctor those people would ever need. He’d be able to fix everything they had wrong himself.
The surgical resident had encouraged him to think long and hard about coming on board. His scores were fabulous; he’d be welcome in whatever residency program he chose. Chances were he’d be able to land a slot here at Vanderbilt, with the right words in the right ears.
But to specialize in surgery meant another five years of training, at a measly salary that wouldn’t begin to pay off his student loans.
He couldn’t afford that. They couldn’t afford that. He wanted to give Aubrey the moon and stars. She’d grown up with next to nothing, basically the clothes on her back and little else. He wanted to give her indulgences, luxuries—jewelry, cars, houses, art. Trips to exotic locales, richly woven clothes. He had to start earning, now, to meet his lofty goals for their life. He didn’t want to do this because he thought she’d love him more, not in the least. She’d had so little beauty in her life; he wanted to give her back some sparkle.
His haunted young love had grown into an exquisite young woman, one he was proud to call his wife. They were a perfect match. She was strong and loving and smart and selfless.
And patient. Aubrey was one of the most patient people he’d ever met. He didn’t know if that was a result of being brought up without parents, having to share all her belongings with practical strangers, or whether it was ingrained in her personality. He wished he’d known her parents, could judge how much of them she’d gotten. Nature, nurture, all that.