Page 12 of Dr. Intern

Fucking sadist.

“Go hit your damn ball,” I snap, finishing my beer with a quick swig.

Parker hops out of the cart, a shit-eating grin on his face as he grabs his five-iron. I follow him, hoping that getting on my feet will wake up my body enough to finish this round.

“So, how’s the new house?”I ask, watching him line up for his shot.

“Good, man,” he replies, taking a few practice swings. “Though Cass has been giving my credit card a workout recently.”

I laugh, imagining the conversations they’ve gotten into. The two of them are perfect together, and I love watching Cassidy push Parker’s buttons any chance she can get. I’ve spent a lot of time with them in the past year, and she’s welcomed me with open arms, probably because she knows she needs someone in her corner to handle his grumpy ass.

“Women tend to do that don’t they,” I comment, leaning on my club.

He takes a perfect swing, driving the ball only feet from the hole. “They sure do.”

“What about the condo? Planning to sell it?”

Parker shakes his head. “Nah, my mom and sister are living there for now while she gets chemo.” A flicker of emotion clouds his blue eyes for a moment before he shrugs it off and looks away.

“How’s she doing?” I ask as we walk over to my ball in the woods, the fresh pine needles crunching beneath our golf shoes.

He keeps his eyes ahead, not meeting my gaze. “She’s fine.”

I don’t press the subject, knowing he’ll tell me if he wants to. “Cass is actually with them right now, wedding dress shopping,” he adds after a moment.

I nudge his arm playfully, and his cheeks redden—he knows he bagged a dime piece, for sure. “Hell yeah. When’s the wedding again?”

He shrugs. “All I know is that it’ll be in June. For everything else, ask my fiancée.”

I pat him on the back with a smirk. “Well, my friend, it looks like you’re well on your way to domestic bliss.”

Parker manages a laugh, but his smile fades as he stares into the distance. “It would be nice if that bliss could hurry up . . . it’s been a tough few months. I’ll be happy once we come out the other side.”

I can’t even imagine, but I’m really glad he’s opening up like this.

“I’m sorry, man,” I say, clapping my hand on his back. “But remember, you’ve got Cass. Lean on her, and I promise you’ll get through it.”

He nods, his freshly shaven jaw tight.

“Plus, I’m always here to kick your ass at golf whenever you need it,” I add, trying to lighten the mood before shimmying my hips between two skinny pines to reach my ball.

This is without a doubt going to be a terrible shot. It’s a good thing we’re not playing for money because the chance that I make it between the two trees is minimal.

“If this is your version of ass-kicking, I’m not sure I want to see you when your game's off,” he chides, watching with amusement from the rough. “Don’t shank it.”

I shift my focus to the ball as I channel my inner Rory Mcllroy. To my surprise, it lands only a few feet from Parker’s—close enough to still make par.

I raise my hands in the air, my club still in my hands. “That’s fucking right,” I yell.

Serves him right for talking shit.

“Lucky shot,” he grumbles.

As Parker starts walking toward our balls his phone rings, and he waves his hand at me to suggest it’ll be a minute before he can play again.

I nod, returning to the cart to grab my putter and check my phone. Fortunately, nothing from the hospital has come through. Not that they would even have a right to call me in at this point. I’m drastically over my hours for the week already.

As I skim through all of my unanswered messages from the past few days, I glance over to Parker, wondering if I should open another beer while I wait. He’s been helping with the residency program a bit, so if he’s on the phone with one of them, this could take a minute.

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