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“Okay,” the doctor said, holding out a clipboard. “If I can just get you to sign these waivers, then we’ll get you back for the eye surgery. Believe me, son, no one will even know you ever had this eye injury. You’ll look like everyone else. When your good eye turns, the other eye will turn, and everyone will just think you’re like everyone else.”
The doctor’s grin broadened. He seemed a bit too perfect. He was one of those fancy doctors who was used to putting people’s bodies back together. A plastic doctor who was used to making every soldier look … normal.
Well, he wasn’t normal. Revulsion filled him at the idea that no one would know. There was no way he could cover the scars inside him. The idea that he would just be normal really pissed him off. “I’m not doing it.”
“What?” the doctor asked, still holding the clipboard.
“I’m not doing the surgery.”
Trey crossed his arms. “Hunter, you need to get the surgery to fix your eye. Don’t be afraid. It’s gonna be seamless for you.”
Hunter seethed. How could Trey even insinuate that he feared some procedure? “I’m not afraid,” he said, forcing himself to sit up and immediately regretting it. He hadn’t considered how dizzy it would make him. It must be the fact that he had been shot in the eye. He braced himself with his hands on the hospital bed.
“Son, just hold on now. Lie back down, and let’s talk about this,” the doctor said, dropping the clipboard and grabbing one of his shoulders.
Hunter ripped out the IV in his arm. He pushed himself off the bed, propping himself up with one hand. “Trey, get my clothes. I’m not having the surgery. I’m going home.”
Chapter 10
Cheryse walked out of the salon with Roger.
“Sweetheart,” he said, putting his hand over hers as their arms linked. “Are we at a place that you would reconsider being my wife?”
It’d been a year since Hunter had left and she’d broken off the engagement with Roger. Roger had continued pursuing her, but she’d kept herself busy. Too busy. So busy that she wouldn’t have time to think about her feelings and Hunter and all the ghosts in her mind.
Except Trent. She stopped by the cemetery to visit him every Sunday morning. It always made her think of Hunter, but it was easier to talk to her dead friend than the one who was alive.
“What?” Cheryse asked, only half listening.
“I want to be together, Cheryse. I want to settle down and not travel so much. I talked to the director at the hospital here and he says they’ll have a full-time position for me in less than six months. So … I’ll be here. Stable. We can get married and have a family.”
Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? A family, stability, kids? An ache formed in her gut just thinking about that. Children—or rather, the lack of children—had made her stay in her first marriage for way too long, until … she didn’t want to think about that. “I don’t know.”
Roger sighed. “I know you’re skittish about it, but maybe after I get back from Atlanta, we could take a trip. Maybe to the beach—or since we live on the beach, maybe the mountains? Or Paris?”
That was another thing she liked about Roger. He told her about Paris and London and a lot of the cities she’d always hoped to see one day. He’d been to a lot of those places with his work. Before he’d worked in fundraising for the hospital, he’d lived a more corporate lifestyle. “We could go to Greece and see my mom.”
“I was hoping you might say that.” He winked at her and said, “I think it's time I met your mom. I might have a question to ask her if you’re ready.”
Cheryse didn’t comment. Nervous butterflies swarmed in her gut.
“See, that’s exactly what I was talking about earlier this week. Every time I mention marriage, you shut down.”
Cheryse fumbled with her keys in the lock at the salon and purposefully took extra time to open it. She had forgotten her deposits for the day, and she didn’t like leaving them at the salon. “Let’s talk about that when you get back from Atlanta.”
Not that she minded talking about anything with Roger. The man was insanely calm. Just the other day, one of her clients commented that if he didn’t have such a pleasant personality, the tone of his voice might lull her to sleep. Especially if he didn’t have interesting things to talk about. She liked that he was easy to talk to and even-keeled.
Cheryse finished locking the salon and turned back to him. Roger automatically put his arm out, and she linked hers through his. She wore a summer dress and flip-flops, and Roger wore khakis, a short-sleeved polo shirt, and flip-flops of his own. It was nice when he was in South Port, because he didn’t have to dress up all the time. He often commented that he was ready to settle down and maybe do something different—something that didn’t require so much travel.
“When I get back in two weeks, promise we’ll have a serious conversation about getting engaged … again?”
She met his gaze. He was only an inch taller than her, and although she didn’t find his presence the same as Trent’s or Hunter’s, she was still attracted to him. It was a different kind of attraction, not so intense.
She didn’t want to respond to his passive demand, so she changed the subject. “It is so nice tonight,” she said, pointing to the ocean line. They had turned the corner and were walking down the pier. She nudged him, and they started down the sidewalk between the street and the beach. “Shall we walk the town?” It was something she rarely did, but it was the weekend. The sun was going down, and there was a pleasant breeze.
“Yes, we shall.” Roger smiled at her. He seemed to be in a good mood tonight. “So everything at the salon went well today?”
“It did. We’re busy, and it’s been a great summer so far.”
