Page 8 of Ever After All

“I got a fish hook in my shoulder. Didn’t Blake call you?”

Griffin looked from Rosie to me as she guided me over to the couch. “He’s still a little out of it from the sedative they gave him,” she explained when I plunked down on the couch. “The effects should wear off soon.”

Griffin nodded as he approached us. “Blake texted, but I don’t think I got all the details. He mentioned a fish hook, but I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“I drove myself to the hospital.” I patted my newly stitched-up shoulder before wincing. “Ouch!”

Rosie rolled her eyes before she fished two prescription bottles out of her purse. “Where did those come from?” I asked.

“Hospital.” Griffin stopped beside the couch, and she handed them to him. “His pain meds and his antibiotics,” she explained. “If anything comes up, call me or the hospital. He has a follow-up appointment to get his stitches removed in ten days.”

Moments later, Rosie was gone, and Griffin was looking down at me.

“How’s your wife?” he asked with a grin as soon as the door closed behind her.

I smiled up at him. “I love her.”

My thoughts were sluggish but painfully honest.

Griffin sat down across from me in the chair, his gaze bemused. “I know you do, but I don’t think Rosie knows that. What are you going to do about it?”

Chapter Five

Rosie

“Dammit,” I muttered.

I lowered my hand, setting my eyeliner on the counter in my bathroom. I lifted a piece of tissue and slid it carefully under my eye, where I’d just smeared it at the wrong angle.

At least for this task, my shaky nerves didn’t matter. I took an unsteady breath. I knew what was wrong. My nerves had been shot to pieces ever since that night in Vegas. Ever since I’d woken up with a wedding band on. Ignoring Wyatt didn’t seem to be helping matters. The only time I could focus was when I was at work, blessedly busy dealing with one emergency after another.

Two weeks had passed since Wyatt kissed me at the hospital. I had very purposely made sure I rearranged my schedule so I wasn’t on duty the day he’d been scheduled to get his stitches removed. I didn’t want him to know that ever since he’d put his suggestion in the air between us, I could hardly stop thinking about it. My feelings were a jumbled mess. He wanted me to give us a chance? What the hell?

When I had my little fling with Wyatt, life had been much simpler. I’d been fresh out of college and about to start my nursing program. I’d felt ready to face the world. The week with him had been beyond amazing, but it felt like a space out of time. He’d left to fight fires in the wilderness, and I’d started nursing school. I’d hardly seen him for years.

Nobody had measured up to him, at least not when it came to the sexy times. I didn’t like to let myself think about the emotions. Every time I did, I mentally shied away. Maybe I’d fantasized about all kinds of things with him, but a little perspective went a long way. For the past few years, I didn’t have much time to think about emotions. In some ways, I’d been relieved that none of my dating options had worked out.

I was busy taking care of my father and up to my eyeballs in stress. My friends knew a little bit about my stress, but I didn’t want to complain. It felt like everything had snowballed so fast I could hardly keep track. My mom had died when I was a little girl, and my dad had stepped up to the plate in a big way. He’d worked his ass off to scramble things together. I’d been the older sister to my little brother and helped as much as I could at home even though my dad never asked me to help.

Now, my dad, who had seemed indestructible to me all of my life, was slipping. His memory seemed to skip like an old record on occasion. He lost track of details sometimes and had developed issues with his balance after an ear infection that he ignored for too long. My little brother, by eight years, had just dropped out of college and returned home to Fireweed Harbor. Between trying to take care of him and constantly worrying about my dad, I felt completely overwhelmed all the time.

I heard the sound of a door opening and closing and hurried out of the bathroom. I could get through the day without eyeliner. I lived in a small house on my father’s property and came over often in the morning to check on him. I’d forgotten to put on eyeliner at home so had pulled it out of my purse here to take care of.

Rushing down the hall, I found my dad in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker.

“Good morning, Dad,” I said, my voice chipper.

He glanced over his shoulder, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, Rosie girl.”

My brother, Brent, walked in, running a hand through his messy hair.

My dad turned, stumbling on his feet a little bit. “Well, look who made it home last night.” My dad’s voice was good natured. At twenty-two, my brother liked to be out and about at night.

I knew my brother was struggling with something he wasn’t telling me, but all I could do was wait. After he dropped out of college last year, he’d done some commercial fishing, which wasn’t easy. The schedule was all over the place, with stretches of no work interspersed with grueling work. Between that, he was bouncing around doing odd jobs. He resisted working for my dad at his hardware store even though it would really help my dad.

“What’s up with the coffee?” my brother asked, gesturing to the empty coffee pot.

“I think it died,” my dad said.

---