Page 57 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
“And?”
“And you’re…” I stopped, the words getting tangled on my tongue.
What was he? Mine? Temporary? Something I couldn’t define?
“Busy,” I finished lamely. “With training. And… other things.”
Tommy laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Other things, huh?”
“Important things,” I said, pulling him closer. “Very time-consuming, important things.”
“Such as?”
“Well, Chickie still needs work on her sit-stay command.”
“True.”
“And we need to work on your training, too.” I brushed my thumb across his lower lip.
“My training?”
“Mmm. Seeing how well you focus even while distracted. Maintaining your… situational awareness, I think you called it?… in case there are wild predators in the area.”
Tommy’s breath hitched. “That could take a while.”
“The rest of the summer,” I agreed, then immediately regretted the words. Because summer would end, and Tommy would leave, and I’d be right back where I started.
In fact, I’d be worse off than before. The Foster I’d been two and a half weeks ago had onlyimaginedwhat it would be like to have Tommy Marian in his bed, in his life. Now, I knew.
“Speaking of summer,” Tommy said casually, sitting up to brush grass off his shirt. “I’m flying out day after tomorrow for my Stanford interview. Just overnight—I’ll be back for the weekend exercises.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I’d known about the interview, of course, but hearing him say it so casually—like it was just another item on his calendar—reminded me exactly what I was to him.
A summer distraction before he went back to his real life.
“Right,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. “Stanford. Big opportunity.”
“The biggest,” Tommy agreed, and I caught the excitement he was trying to hide. “Emergency medicine position, research opportunities, possibly even teaching at the medical school. It’s everything I’ve worked toward my whole life.”
Everything he’d worked toward. Not here, with me, but in California. In a world where I didn’t exist, where I’d never feel at home.
“You’ll get it,” I said, because it was true. Tommy was brilliant, dedicated, exactly the kind of doctor a place like Stanford would want.
“Maybe.” He was quiet for a moment, then looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “You ever think about leaving Wyoming? Doing something different?”
The question caught me off guard. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. SERA’s expanding—Trace mentioned they’re looking for a permanent SAR director. Or there are programs in Colorado, California. Places where your skills could make a real difference.”
I stared at him, trying to figure out where this was coming from. “I do make a real difference. As sheriff of Majestic and a member of Wyoming SAR.” I’d told him so, that first night in Hawaii.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…” He hesitated. “Don’t you want to do SAR full-time? Be outside instead of chained to a desk half the time?” He gestured around us at the peaceful stillness. The warm shafts of summer sun breaking lazily through green pines and the deepest blue sky visible beyond. The soft buzz of bumblebees and the periodic skitter of small animals under the deadfall.
There was something in Tommy’s voice—hope, maybe, or testing—that made my breathing uneven. Like he was asking for a reason that had nothing to do with career advice.
“There is no full-time SAR job where I live, and Majestic is my home,” I said carefully. “My family’s there. My life.”
“Right.” Tommy looked away, and I caught a flicker of disappointment before he hid it. “Of course.”
