Page 78 of The Potter

For some reason, Halle doesn’t want another surgeon. She wants me, and while I’ve tried everything I can think of to get her to change her mind, she won’t. I’ve simply only been able to delay her by setting an expectation she won’t be able to meet.

Halle has no one here in Texas to help her with postoperative care.

Except, she could use the teenager at the motel.

Or my brothers.

Either of them would agree to help just to see me in the operating room again.

But why?

Why make Halle suffer by using a surgeon who should have handed over his medical license after he killed his best friend?

Halle deserves me whole and unjaded from past failures.

Not this shell of man who can’t even walk into his OR without vomiting. Calista was right, I’ll only destroy more lives. And I can’t do that to Halle. Her light is so pure, so resilient, so—

The door to the balcony slides open. “What are you doing out here?”

Halle is wrapped in a sheet, her legs bare as she turns on the light, stepping out into the cool air. “Can’t sleep?”

Everything about her is untainted by the adversity in her life. With her concerned frown and bright eyes, she walks over to me, sitting in the rocking chair, and lifts my chin. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Dr. Potter?”

Nothing.

Everything.

You.

I settle for a lie. “I’m enjoying the peace.”

She makes this tittering noise that says she believes me as much as she believes in the Easter Bunny. “You’re having a pity party is what you’re having.”

She flops down on my thighs, kicking her legs over the armrest and adjusting the sheet back over her body before snuggling into my chest. “Okay, now you can resume your party. I’ll just be here, sleeping.”

Closing her eyes, she rests her head on my chest, her arms looping around my neck as I begin rocking again. We stay that way, with her cradled in my arms, as the sun peeks up from the rolling hills of the vineyards, peacefully rocking in silence until she breaks it.

“I told myself a long time ago that I would never put my faith in people.” She never looks up. Instead, she holds on to me tighter, keeping her gaze between our bodies. “People are broken and tainted by circumstances. They will let you down, and after Caleb, I couldn’t afford to ever allow that to happen again.”

She inhales, and I want to stop her right here. I know the story between her and her ex, Caleb. It was hard enough to read, let alone hear. But like my therapist says, talking about pain leads to healing. I haven’t quite come to that part of the process, but who am I to deny Halle hers? For all I know, this moment of voicing her pain into the hills she called magical could be what she needs to move on.

“But I was wrong. If we can’t put our faith in others, then how can we have faith in ourselves?”

“We don’t.”

Sometimes, there is no hope to be found. Calista has no hope of ever getting her husband back. I have no hope that I will ever recover from his death. Hope has no place in some people.

Halle pats my arms like I need to brace myself. “But we do. You just have to find it. Like I did.”

She takes a breath, settling in my arms. “I was fourteen when I knew I was going to marry Caleb Conrad.” She laughs, but it lacks humor. “Small towns sometimes breed small dreams. And the only dream I had was to marry the mechanic’s son. Caleb was smart, charming, and hardworking. Everything my daddy said I would be lucky to find in a man. But it was all a lie.”

I pull the sheet tighter over her legs as if it alone will soothe the ache as she relives this part of her life she wants desperately to forget. After all, he’s the reason for her scars.

“Caleb promised we’d get married right after college. He would become a successful businessman while I landed the role of a lifetime. We’d travel the globe and see every landmark this world had to offer. Our dreams were only four years out of our reach.”

Pulling her hand from my neck, she swipes under her eyes. “Four years and a substance abuse problem.” If I didn’t think I could feel any shittier in the wee hours of the morning, I was wrong. Halle’s sniffles absolutely gut me. “College wasn’t like our small town, where nothing happened—you were right about that.” She chuckles, and it makes me want to take back every shitty thing I said to her in the beginning. “College had parties, pills, and freedom. And Caleb wanted it all. He stopped coming over. Stopped calling. He stopped everything that had to do with me.”

“And sobriety, apparently,” I can’t help from blurting. I hate this fucker, purely based on the pain he caused this woman.

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