Page 25 of The Doctor's Simple Life

We reach the town clock, and Reece stares at it, his eyes wide.

“How old is Silverbell?” he says, not looking at me.

All those summers of giving kids history tours at the library are coming in useful now. “Priestly Silverbell moved his family here in 1803, made a farming community and formed a town, and basically gifted it to his daughter when he died. He was a weird kind of guy by all accounts, but he drove a lot of the industry here. Really supported farmers, really cared about his workers. That’s why the town’s named after him.”

“Why do you know all this?” he asks, tilting his head like a curious dog as he looks at me.

I shrug. “Growing up here, you kind of learn it subliminally.”

“You grew up here?” he scoffs. I sigh lightly, gritting my teeth for another one of these conversations.

I’m sure I’ve told him this already, but I guess I’m expecting too much to think he might have listened to me for a single second. “Yes, I grew up here. My family all grew up here, as far back as we have records. Gramma has lived in that house for decades.”

“I can’t imagine that,” he says. “It would drive me crazy living in the place I was born.”

“Why is that? Where were you born?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“I was born in Atlanta. I did my internship in Miami and never went home again.”

“You must miss it.”

Reece shrugs, frowning in that kind of way people frown when they’re pretending to be less upset about something than they really are.

It just piques my curiosity more. Who is this guy?

“Do you want to go for lunch?” I ask, surprising myself.

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking like he’s surprised himself too.

I smile. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 13

REECE

THREE DAYS LATER

My hands are shaking as we step out of the hospital. It’s been a long while since I had to be involved with something like that.

“Here,” says Sienna, holding out a coffee with a fatigued smile. “Thought you might need this.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly. I take a sip and say nothing else. We sit down on the bench outside the main front doors and say nothing together, drinking our coffee and remembering that we need to be glad to be alive. This job really drives that hard into you sometimes.

Especially on a day like today.

“Well,” she says, breaking the silence. “I’m glad we didn’t have any fatalities, thank God.”

“Me too,” I say, nodding.

Most of our night shifts here have been quiet and dull. Recently, with our improving friendship, or whatever it is we are, they’ve almost been fun, full of bickering and banter and puzzle books that she’s way better than me at.

I’d almost forgotten that tragedy can strike anywhere, at any time, to anyone.

It was a four-car pileup on the highway, a nasty accident that had ambulances flooding in because we were the closest hospital. Fortunately, most of the people involved had superficial injuries, but I haven’t done that much real work in a long time.

I haven’t seen so many close calls and lucky escapes since I was an intern.

But as Sienna says, fortunately, everyone was okay. I sewed a hell of a lot of cuts closed and treated some kids to Band-Aids and candy, but the busyness was mostly due to the number of people brought in. One person was rushed into the operating theater, but I wouldn’t have been invited, even in my own hospital.

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