Donald ran a hand over his bald head. “Really, Walt? Do you have a crystal ball? Who the hell knows where any of us will be in ten years?”

Walt released a short sigh. “You’re married, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How does what we do interfere with your family life?”

Instead of answering, Donald sat back and regarded Walt. “There’s a woman?”

“Maybe.”

Donald laughed, picked up his knife and fork before continuing to eat the prime rib on his plate. “We both know what it means to be away during a disaster. We focus on what has to happen, what we need to do during the time we’re knee-deep in crap so deep we can’t see. Finding a woman to share your life who understands that, and doesn’t hold it against you, is key.” Donald plunked a chunk of beef between his lips and started to chew. After a few seconds he continued. “You and I were born of the same cloth, Walt. We don’t do normal. As much as you tell yourself you hate graveyard shift, you show up night after night and suck it up. If you didn’t have to go in, there would be nights you’d be staring at the walls.”

Walt shook his head. “Three a.m. sucks if you don’t have a drink or a woman under you.”

“You’re not that shallow.”

His memory moved to Dakota . . . three a.m. with her was worth everything.

Damn it! Why couldn’t he shake her?

Walt dug into his food. “How long before Borderless Doctors wants an answer?”

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter fifteen sucked. Dakota had written three different twists in her story and none of them manifested into an easy chapter sixteen. She tried running to clear her head, but that wasn’t working. Running sucked. Who willingly put on shorts, a sports bra, and jogged around the block?

She hadn’t heard from Walt in three days.

On her phone was a missed call from him, but she refused to pick up the phone. She was stronger than that, damn it!

Dakota tapped a well-manicured nail against the desk and stared at her phone.

She grabbed it off the receiver as if it had insulted her by its mere existence.

With a forced smile on her face, Dakota lifted her voice and smothered it with Southern charm.

“Emergency Room, this is Rick?”

“Hello Rick. Can you be a dear and tell me if Doctor Eddy is on today?”

“We don’t give out the doctors’ schedules.”

“Oh, I don’t want his schedule. You see, he was so wonderful with my stepdaughter last week. I just wanted to send him a little something. It would be a shame if I sent it on a night he wasn’t working.” Dakota crossed her fingers and closed her eyes . . . as if those motions could change the outcome of this call.

“Oh . . . well . . .”

“I just need to know if I’m sending pizza or doughnuts. I have a feeling Doctor Eddy has a sweet tooth but doughnuts in the evening simply aren’t the same . . . wouldn’t you agree?” C’mon, Rick.

One of the tidbits Walt had given her about the ER staff was their desire for food.

“In that case. He’ll be in tonight at seven.”

Gotcha! “Bless your heart. I’ll be sure and send enough for everyone. Everyone was so kind. Thank y’all for being here for us.”

“No problem.”

Walt was back in town and yet a call hadn’t happened.

There were things she could forgive, but going back on your word wasn’t one of them.

Before turning off her computer, she found a local pizza joint that delivered and ordered six pizzas for the staff of the ER. She was a woman of her word.

Then she went to her bedroom and put on an extra layer of polish and a change of clothes.

Never go into any breakup looking your worst. Make ’em wish they had made a different choice.

Sometimes her Southern upbringing came in handy.

Before she left the house, she managed a couple of aspirin to help with the headache that seemed to be with her daily since Walt brushed her off.

The tears didn’t help.

After today, she wouldn’t shed another one. If Walt wanted her out of his life, fine. But he was going to offer some kind of explanation for the sudden departure.

He pulled into the doctors’ parking lot, found a spot on the second level, and locked his car before finding the back stairs close to the ER.

He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs.

She wore black stiletto boots and a mini with a tight-knit white turtleneck without sleeves. Her dark-rimmed sunglasses hid her eyes but the lack of smile on her face said everything.

Walt didn’t like the twist in his gut. The desire to reach for her, tell her he was being an ass, try and make her understand his worries even when he didn’t quite know them, was a physical ache. It didn’t help that she looked hotter than he’d ever seen. “Dakota,” he whispered her name.

“Oh, shucks, Doc. You remembered my name. I’m flattered.”

He deserved that.

“We should talk.”

She placed her fingertips on her forehead and squeezed her temple. “You know, Walt. I thought we were doing fine. I’m only here to find out what the hell I did that made you run.”

“You didn’t do anything.” And standing by her side made him kick his own ass for not calling her.

“If you tell me it’s not me, it’s you, I won’t be responsible for my reaction.” She pushed the heel of her hand to her head. “This was a mistake.”