Page 50 of Savannah Royals
Slowly, so very slowly, his hand reaches up to cup my cheek. His blue eyes are startlingly clear—like I can see straight through them into his mind—and I wonder, briefly, what he sees in my green ones. If he can see straight through me too.
Before I can wonder further, he kisses me. Softly, tentatively. A question not voiced, but asked nonetheless. It’s sweetness and light and sunshine and butterflies…everything I’ve always thought I didn’t want, but somehow, coming from him, it feels exactly right.
Becauseheis sweetness and light and sunshine and butterflies. And maybe I didn’t want it before, but I suddenly realize I sure as hell want it now. Maybe, just like losing to him at pool, this is good for me. Maybehecould be good for me.
If he were Paul or Abe, I’d drag him down the beach without a second thought. But he isn’t a wolf. He’s Matthew. So, of course, he politely pulls away from my lips after only a few seconds. Pulls away, takes my hand, and together we rejoin the party.
And honestly, it’s a little disappointing, but for once in my life, it also feels like enough. Because I know what hunger is. I know what it’s like to be positively ravenous. Insatiable even.
But today, after the smallest of bites, I’m full.
Whenthesunreachesits apex over Jekyll Island, I’ve returned to the shore with Matt. We’re seated side by side in the white, pebbly sand. The waves roll in just beyond our feet, the natural tideline ebbing and flowing with as much ease as the words streaming from our lips. Never having left Savannah, I’m enraptured by Matthew’s tales of travel, particularly his time at Vanderbilt.
“Nashville sounds simply grand,” I breathe, captivated. “Whatever persuaded you to return to Savannah after medical school?”
He smiles. “My family is here, Kat. My community. Where else would I want to practice medicine?”
I blink twice, disarmed by a shadowy undercurrent of Paul in Matthew’s explanation.
“Where at the hospital do you work?” I ask, barreling forward. “Are there specialties?”
“A few, principally medical and surgical. I work on the medical side, but since the war ended, there’s been research and publications on emergency medical techniques, the kind they used on the battlefield. A friend of mine from Vanderbilt deployed to the Western Front, and we exchanged letters. His firsthand accounts were…well, at times, they were difficult to read, but so very important all the same.”
“Oh.” The corners of my mouth turn down, mimicking his own. “This friend…was he drafted?”
“No.” In profile, I notice the barest tightening of Matthew’s jaw. His fingers clench into the sand. “He enlisted. They came recruiting at Vanderbilt, offered an accelerated education if we enlisted and deployed as battlefield physicians. William took the deal.”
“I see. Quite brave of him.” I look away, straight over the horizon line. I want to ask, so many men on the frontlines were lost. But I don’t dare. I hold my breath, waiting.
“Yes, quite. All the men who deployed, whether drafted or enlisted, were brave. That’s partly why I let Ethan get away with so much.” The corner of Matthew’s lip curls in a wry smile. “He deserves a good laugh. There was precious little to laugh about for so many years…certainly not while he was in France.”
I put a hand on his arm.
“But the past is meant to be learned from,” Matthew continues, nodding. “I’ve referenced William’s letters often. His lens as a physician was intrepid, and the techniques they developed during the war are applicable to the home front as well. I’m in talks with the hospital now, developing our own modified field medicine program to respond to trauma throughout Savannah.”
“That sounds like rather important work. I’d like to see this bravehearted battlefield Matthew in action. Perhaps I’ll stop by during one of your night shifts for a tour,” I tease.
“Absolutely not. The hospital after midnight is no place you want to be, Kat. The streets aren’t safe at that time either. I would know. It’s how I make my living. These gangs in the bayou…things are only getting worse.”
And because I can’t think of a safe response, I bend forward and slip off my shoes, one after the other. Then I jump ahead and kick my toes in the water, spraying droplets, shooting off a hundred ripples.
I turn to face Matt and smile. “Look out!”
I slowly draw my leg back, giving him plenty of time to evade, but he only sits there, grinning. Daring me. Unsaid words oscillate between us, swelling bigger and stronger than the ripples in the water.
Will you or won’t you?
Will you—
I kick, spraying him with water. On reflex, he lifts a hand, but it’s ineffective against the onslaught.
Much to my surprise, he laughs and bends over to roll up his trousers, his shoes coming off. He charges into the shallows after me and starts kicking back, showing no mercy.
“Matt, I’m wearingwhite,” I squeal after a particularly big spray.
“You should have thought of that before you started a fight you can’t finish.”
“Oh, I can finish it.”
