Back To You (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance) Read online

  Charleston took a second, then another, to digest everything Tess had said. “You’re giving awfully sage relationship advice over there,” she told her, by way of tabling the topic. The last thing she wanted to do was make a snap decision regarding Parker, the way she had when they’d first met. No matter what she decided, she’d have to do it after some thought.

  Tess lifted one gowned shoulder halfway before letting it drop. “At least I can fix other people’s stuff.”

  The look on Tess’s face told Charleston in no uncertain terms that the words had been a slip, and she didn’t hesitate.

  “What’s going on, Tess?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” her friend said, and oh, Charleston knew every word to that little ditty.

  “Yes, you do. Alec has been acting like an entitled ass ever since you got here yesterday, and he left an hour after Jackson was born and hasn’t been back since. So, what gives?”

  “He’s up for partner at his law firm,” Tess said, each word stamped with a frown. “This is a critical time in his career.”

  For fuck’s sake, she couldn’t be serious. “Tess—”

  “Charlie, don’t ask. Please.”

  The plea arrived so softly that Charleston nearly missed it, and God, she was tempted to argue. Tess had just given birth. Ten of Alec’s job weren’t more important than that. But the look on her best friend’s face warned Charleston not to push right now, so she simply reached out for Tess’s hand.

  “Okay. But just promise you’ll let me know if I need to break out my rusty spoon. I do miss the OR, and I’ll happily perform my first castration if the occasion calls for it. After all, what are friends for?”

  15

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in!”

  “If it isn’t Doctor Parker Drake.”

  “So fucking fancy.”

  “Fancy, my ass. You can take the guy out of the fire house…”

  Parker laughed, swiveling a look over the group of first responders and cops gathered around the pool table in the side alcove at The Crooked Angel. “Are you guys done?”

  “Done? Hell, we just got started, Ace!” Gabe Hawkins drawled. “Or is that Dr. Ace now?”

  “Good to see none of you Neanderthals have changed,” Parker said, and damn, he’d missed his station-mates.

  “Not even by half,” crowed Shae McCullough, one of the firefighters on Engine Seventeen, as she elbowed her way past her engine-mates and made a beeline right for Parker, brash as always. “Come here and give me a hug, you Brainiac!”

  Parker leaned in to hug her as her live-in boyfriend, James Capelli, frowned. “I thought I was the Brainiac,” he said.

  “Parker’s got book smarts out the wazoo. You are a genius, baby,” she said, letting go of Parker and giving Capelli a saucy wink. Seeing as how the guy ran all of the tech and surveillance for the Remington Police Department’s elite intelligence unit and rumor held that his IQ was over one-fifty, Parker didn’t guess she was too far off the mark.

  “Technically, both of those counts are accurate,” Capelli agreed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before reaching out to shake Parker’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, Drake. It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah, I know. The program’s got me pretty busy.” He hated how much he missed these guys (some of whom weren’t guys at all). He’d known going back to his internship would take all the time he had, and even some he didn’t, but it still didn’t change the fact that everyone at Seventeen had been more family than friends for the five years he’d spent with them.

  Luke Slater, who had been a rookie on engine when Parker had left Station Seventeen but was now riding ambo with Quinn as his lead—and, oh yeah, also as his girlfriend—stepped in from the pool table with a grin. “It’s good to see you out, man. Quinn will be really happy that you’re here.”

  Parker clapped Slater on the shoulder. “You’d better be treating her right,” he said, and although he delivered the words with a smile that he meant, he wouldn’t hesitate to rescind all the niceties and kick the guy’s ass if he gave good reason for it. Quinn had been Parker’s partner on that ambo for nearly the entire time Parker had been there, and although he’d never told her, or anyone, about the specifics of his past with Charlie, she’d been his closest friend for pretty much the duration of their time together.

  “Yeah, you don’t have to worry on that front,” Slater said. “I’ve got her back.”

  His laugh, along with Shae’s, her fellow engine-mate, Kellan’s, and—whoa—even Capelli’s, which was a rare occurrence for the uber-serious guy, was all the reassurance Parker needed.

  “Good,” he said. “Is she here yet?”

  Kellan nodded past the pool table and through the low light of the alcove, toward the bar. “She and Isabella went to go grab a couple beers.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan,” Parker said. After exchanging a handful more hey-how-are-yas with the guys on Station Seventeen’s rescue squad and the detectives from the Thirty-Third, he made his way over to the L-shaped bar.

  The Crooked Angel was already more packed than not, with most of the tall four-top tables around the bar and nearly all the spots along both stretches of mahogany occupied with people taking advantage of happy hour and dinner specials. Music drifted down from the speakers, controlled by the jukebox on the far side of the room and supplemented by a soundtrack chosen by the manager, Kennedy Matthews, who currently stood behind the bar in all her inky, edgy glory. Parker spotted Quinn with ease, and Kellan’s fiancée, Isabella, was right beside her. Isabella saw him first, probably a side effect of the whole detective thing she had going on, her smile brightening as she turned to offer him a hug.

  “Hey, look who it is,” she said. He didn’t get a chance to answer, let alone hug her for more than two seconds, before Quinn interrupted with a laugh.

  “Parker! Oh, my God, I didn’t think you’d come out tonight!” She hugged him fiercely, and he let out an exaggerated ooof for old times’ sake.

  “I told you I would,” he reminded her, unwinding to give her a puzzled look. For Pete’s sake, she’d texted him no less than four times to confirm.

  “Hmmm.” Her blonde brows pulled into a V over her nose. “I know you said you would. But I half-thought some crazy emergency would pop up to keep you at the hospital.”

  In truth, she wasn’t too far off the mark. The patient that he and one of the senior residents had seen through post-op for Higgins that afternoon had come close, but the guy had ended up stabilizing from a bad reaction to the anesthesia he’d been under faster than they’d expected.

  Parker shook his head. “Sorry, kid.” Quinn was only five years younger than him, but he’d never let her forget it before. No sense in starting now. “No emergencies tonight. You’re stuck with me.”

  “Oh, good! I can’t wait to hear all about the program. Is it ridiculously exciting? Are you treating a lot of patients? Doing any cool procedures yet? You’re the star of your class, aren’t you? Hurry up and tell me everything.”

  He opened his mouth to A) poke fun at her momma bear ways, and B) indulge her. But then he caught a flash of coppery-red hair from over by the bar’s front entrance, and everything he’d meant to say crashed to a halt in his windpipe, along with his breath.

  Charlie was here. She stood right between Sheridan and Kendrick, by the windows lining the front of The Crooked Angel, her smile cautious, but definitely present, and somehow, it was even more beautiful than if she’d pulled out a toothpaste-commercial showstopper. She leaned in to listen to something Kendrick had said, adding a nod to go with her demi-smile, and Parker couldn’t tell if he was the luckiest bastard to draw breath or if he was insurmountably fucked.

  Charlie was here. Outside of the hospital, away from the place where they had to follow all of the rules or face serious consequences. And even though he hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her in passing since the other morning in Tess’s hospital room, he still wanted her just as much now as he had then.

  Parker took it back. He was definitely fucked.

  Quinn’s bewildered voice made it through the haze in his brain in clips and scraps before he was finally able to tune all the way back in.

  “Yoo-hoo. Earth to Parker. Are you…” Quinn turned to follow his stare, which must’ve been—shit!—as subtle as a sledgehammer, because even Isabella had swung around to look at Charlie.

  “Who’s the redhead? She’s pretty,” Isabella added, and Parker reached for all the nonchalance he could possibly roll together.

  “She’s an, ah, attending at Remington Mem. Did you guys want to grab that beer, or—”

  “When did that happen?” Quinn asked, the look on her face sinking Parker’s gut. No amount of beer was going to drown her curiosity. Damn it! “I mean, she was in the ED when we brought Michaelson in the other day, but I figured she was from the float pool. I didn’t know she was permanent.”

  “She’s not,” Parker said, and funny, the words pinched on exit. “Not really, anyway.”

  “Well, she’s with Kendrick and Sheridan, and—oh, Mallory’s here, too. So, she can’t be that new to Remington.”

  Parker nodded. Okay, so Charlie had changed her mind about coming out, and yeah, she looked freaking gorgeous in that long-sleeved black sweater that wrapped around her curves and tied at her waist like a present he desperately wanted to unwrap. But this was no big deal.

  “Her name is Charleston Becker,” he said, although her full name still felt weird in his mouth. “She’s a general surgeon, but she’s covering the ED for Michaelson while she’s on maternity leave. They’ve been best friends since they were interns.”

  “So, you know her,” Quinn said slowly.

  “She’s an attend
ing, so, yeah,” Parker replied, and wait, what was with the look she’d just exchanged with Isabella?

  “That’s probably a good thing,” Isabella said with a smile that matched Quinn’s. “Since she’s headed this way.”

  Parker’s heart tripped in his rib cage, and he managed only to turn gracelessly on one heel before Charlie and Kendrick were too close to avoid interacting with.

  “Oh, hey, Drake,” Kendrick said, her blonde brows slinging up in surprise even though her smile was genuine. The woman didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body. “Fancy seeing you here. And with Quinn, of all people,” she laughed.

  “Hey, Dr. Kendrick,” Quinn waved, and Kendrick shook her head.

  “We’re not at the hospital. Natalie, please.” She paused to introduce herself to Isabella, who then turned toward Charlie.

  “I’m Isabella Moreno.”

  “Charleston Becker,” Charlie said, extending her hand politely before looking at Quinn. “I guess we haven’t officially met, either.”

  Quinn nodded. “Quinn Copeland. Parker’s former partner.”

  “Oh.” Charlie nodded, an expression crossing her face that Parker would’ve sworn looked like relief, except then it was gone as if it had never existed. “That makes sense. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Michaelson gave us a hell of a scare the other day, huh? How’s she doing?” Quinn asked, and it was just like her to be concerned.

  Charlie’s smile was part relief, part happiness. “Good. She and the baby went home this afternoon. Both perfectly healthy.”

  “Oh, good,” Quinn said, smiling back. “I do love a happy ending.”

  Isabella grinned, and Parker saw the pot-stirring gleam in her dark eyes too late. “Well, it’s so nice to meet you, Charleston. And funny timing. Parker was actually just telling me and Quinn all about you.”

  No, no. No, no, no. “Not all about you,” Parker said quickly, and he took it back. He hadn’t missed his good friends, or all the crap he’d inconveniently forgotten they could dish up. At. Fucking. All.

  Every eye in the group swung toward him from beneath raised brows, and holy shit, he needed to think fast. “I was just, ah, saying that you and I work together at the hospital and that you’re here covering Dr. Michaelson’s maternity leave.”

  They were the same facts that everyone knew, and Charlie’s expression relaxed a notch. “Oh. Well, it sounds like you’ve hit the highlights, then.”

  Quinn gestured toward the alcove, which was decidedly less crowded than the spot they currently occupied a few feet from the bar. “A bunch of us from the fire house are hanging out over by the pool table. Why don’t you guys come join us?”

  “Oh, that sounds fun!” Kendrick—was he supposed to call her Natalie, too?—said. “I’ll text Jonah to let him and Emmett know. Jonah went to go say hi to Kennedy. He likes to check out his handiwork.”

  Curiosity colored Charlie’s face. “That sounds like a story.”

  “Another one with a happy ending, as it turns out,” Quinn said with a grin. “Thank God he’s a really great surgeon.”

  They made their way to the bar to grab a round of beers, then turned toward the alcove. Parker fell in beside Charlie as Quinn and Isabella chatted with Natalie, and even though he knew it might burn him, he had to ask.

  “So, are you really okay with, ah. This?” He’d kept his voice intentionally low to ensure privacy even in the busy bar, and Charlie answered him in exactly the same manner.

  “Do you mean hanging out with you in a place that isn’t the hospital?”

  “Yeah. I mean, the other day in Tess’s room, you said you couldn’t make it tonight, so I kind of assumed—”

  Charlie lifted her free hand, staying both his words and their forward progress just a half-dozen steps shy of the alcove. “Parker, can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure,” he replied, although, God, talk about the last thing he’d expected her to say. Angling herself toward him casually, she smiled, and anyone who happened to look over would probably think they were discussing a patient, or what the best special on the menu might be, or, hell, even the chillier weather they’d been having lately.

  But they weren’t.

  “We bought ourselves an awful lot of heartache six years ago by making assumptions,” Charlie said. “So, from here on in, could we just agree on an honesty policy?”

  Surprise moved through Parker in a burst. “You want to have an honesty policy. With me.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, her hair shushing over her shoulders. “I’ll even go first. I did originally tell Natalie that I couldn’t come out tonight because I had a feeling you’d be here, and I was worried about how that might feel. But we agreed to move forward. There’s really no reason for us to avoid each other just because we’re not at work. So I changed my mind and came out. And, since I’m being honest”—she lowered her lashes just a fraction before lifting her gaze to meet his, letting it hold tight—“I’m really glad I did.”

  Parker processed her words, along with the heat they’d created deep in his belly. He knew—oh, he knew—that he should smile, politely agree to keep moving forward without drama, and keep his brutally honest thoughts to himself.

  Which, of course, meant that he didn’t do anything of the goddamned sort. “I’m glad you did, too, because I really wanted to see you. Also, that sweater is a menace. You look beautiful. How’s that for honest?”

  Shock parted Charlie’s lips over a little gasp that did nothing to make Parker regret his boldness, and her cheeks flushed. But she didn’t get a chance to reply before Sheridan and Mallory appeared beside them, beers in hand.

  “Hey, you two. No shop talk tonight,” Sheridan said, his grin on his face as well as in his voice. “What happens at the hospital stays at the hospital. For the sake of everyone’s sanity.”

  Parker laughed. As much as he wanted to continue his conversation with Charlie, he also knew the difference between impulse and stupidity. “I see. So, does that mean that if I kick your ass at darts, I can’t brag about it in the interns’ locker room?”

  Mallory let out a low whistle, but Sheridan threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll tell you what, rookie. You kick my ass at darts and I’ll let you scrub in on every one of my surgeries next time you’re on my service. You lose, and you’re gonna take scut to a whole new level.”

  This time, it was Charlie who whistled. “Those are some pretty high stakes.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Still, Parker didn’t even think twice. “Done.”

  He reached out to shake Sheridan’s hand to officially accept the challenge, but Charlie stepped between them, her smile perfectly angelic and perfectly deadly.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “See, I’m going to kick both of your asses. And then I get your surgeries”—she pointed at Jonah—“and you doing my scut. What do you say, gentlemen? Do we have a deal?”

  “Only on one condition,” Parker said, waiting until her brows curved up in question before breaking into a deadly smile of his own. “When I beat both of you, I scrub in on all the surgeries. And I get to assist.”

  Sheridan looked at Charlie. “I’m game if you are.”

  But Charlie just laughed. “I was ready two minutes ago, boys. If you want to beat me, you’ll have to do a better job of keeping up.”

  16

  Parker aimed every ounce of precision, concentration, and skill that he owned at the dartboard. He was laser-focused. Hungry. Sharp.

  And Charlie handed him his ass on a platter, as promised.

  “Come on,” Parker groaned, not quite ready to admit defeat even though the scoreboard told no lies. “Best of five!”

  Charlie laughed, her cheeks rosy from the trio of beers she’d had over the last few hours. “I hate to break it to you, but even if we go best of five hundred, I’d still win.”

  Parker replayed the games they’d played in his head, and ah, hell, she was probably right.