11 - Melissa

11

Melissa

Noah drove us to town, parked on one of the side roads, and then led me to the main street with all the restaurants and bars. The restaurant he had chosen was called Bonez , and had a huge outdoor patio situated next to the creek that ran through town.

“You going to be okay if we sit outside?” he asked.

I hefted the sweatshirt under one arm. “I’ve got this just in case.”

Noah flashed me his perfect white smile. “Surprised you had enough room for that in your hiking pack.”

“It was for camp,” I explained. “I usually get chilly after hiking all day, and needed something warm to wear while sitting around at camp at the end of each day.”

The hostess seated us at a cute two-person table right on the edge of the patio, giving us a gorgeous view of Main Street. I ordered a margarita, and Noah held up two fingers to order the same.

“Okay, so I’ve got a question for you,” I said.

“Yes, I’ve had a lot of patients at the clinic with objects shoved up their butts,” Noah immediately answered. “A lot .”

Laughing, I said, “Thanks for that mental image. But I was going to ask about Ash. You know him pretty well?”

“He’s one of my best friends.”

“Is there something wrong with his mountain bike?” I asked. “Ash lent it to me to get around town, but when Jack saw that I was using it, he laughed.”

Noah’s eyebrows rose. “He lent you his bike? The yellow and black one?”

“Yeah,” I said carefully.

The waitress returned with our drinks, and then took our order. “What’s up with his bike?” I asked when she was gone.

“The yellow and black one is his baby,” Noah explained. “Calls it his bumblebee. He’s let people borrow his other bikes—he’s got four—but he never loans out the bumblebee.”

“Not even to you or Jack?”

Noah barked a laugh. “Yeah, right. If I even asked to borrow it, Ash would give me a look that could strip paint off a wall.”

“I’ve seen that look,” I admitted.

“He seriously let you borrow it?” Noah asked, cocking his head.

I nodded. “I didn’t even ask. He just gave it to me.”

Noah stared off for a few seconds, then shrugged. “He has trust issues. I guess he’s learning to share. It should’ve happened when he was ten years old, but better late than never.”

“All right, enough about Ash,” I said. “Cheers. To our date.”

“To the fact that you’re technically not my patient,” Noah agreed, clinking his glass to mine. The margarita was tart and boozy, just the way I liked it.

“So, you have a house on the river,” I said, switching to typical date material. “I bet that’s nice.”

“I’m extremely lucky,” he admitted. “I bought the land in 2019, right before COVID. The real estate market around here went nuts after that. But yeah, it’s great. I’ve got a few acres, and can take the kayak out on the river from my backyard. Do you…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I was going to ask what kind of place you live in, but then I realized I don’t even know where you’re from.”

“Toledo, Ohio,” I replied. “And yes, it’s as boring as it sounds. I hate it there.”

“Then why not move?”

“I don’t know. Too many things keeping me there.” Suddenly, I slammed down my drink. “Forget about my story. I want to hear about how you got blown up!”

“I can’t reveal my most interesting story before our food even arrives,” Noah protested.

“No.” I jabbed a finger in his direction. “I was supposed to hear this story at lunch yesterday, but you were called away on an emergency.”

“The emergency was an interesting case,” he mused. “You know the ski slopes up on Mount Crested Butte overlooking the town? They turn them into mountain biking trails in the summer. One of the kids lost control going around a corner and flew into a tree. Compound fracture in his femur.”

“Don’t try appeasing me with interesting medical stories,” I argued.

“What about details of stuff people have shoved up their butts?” he countered, leaning forward on the table. “One of them will shock you.”

“Save it for dessert. I want the blown up story!”

Sighing, Noah drank some more of his margarita. “All right. In another life, I was an Army medic. My unit was deployed to Afghanistan…”

I felt all the blood drain out of my face. “Oh no.”

Noah gave me a sad smile. “Did you think it was a patient who had a bomb in his chest, like on Grey’s Anatomy?”

“…No.” I paused. “Okay, yeah, that’s exactly what I thought. You don’t have to tell the rest of the story.”

“It’s all good. I’ve told it a hundred times.” He ran a hand through his thick blond hair before continuing. “We were escorting some informants back to base when a roadside bomb went off. It flipped one of our armored cars, and put three nickels worth of shrapnel in my leg. No permanent damage, except my thigh aches sometimes when I go for a jog. I got chapter sixty-one’d after that. A chapter sixty-one discharge is a medical discharge.”

“Wow, you were lucky.”

“Sure was.” Another long pull from his margarita. “Two buddies of mine weren’t so lucky. Both were closer to the blast. One lost both legs, and the other… didn’t make it.”

“Oh my God.” I instinctively reached across the table to cup his hand. “I am so sorry for asking. I shouldn’t have been so nosy.”

Noah smiled. “No apology needed. This story is a big part of who I am. That’s why I teased it to you yesterday.”

I relaxed a little. But I still felt guilty.

“Believe it or not, that was the first time I ever patched anyone up in combat,” he went on. “Being deployed is a tale of two extremes. You’re bored out of your mind for ninety-nine percent of the time. And then when something finally happens, it’s chaos and blood and adrenaline. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a puppy with three legs,” he teased.

Wincing, I said, “Sorry.”

“I was numb for a while after that. Like, a couple of years. My uncle passed away, and I didn’t feel anything. Same when my mom died a year later. It was like a blanket was wrapped around my brain, muffling everything going on. Which sucks, because I’m a very open and emotional person. Well, eventually, the blanket disappeared. And when I could finally feel things again, I decided I wanted to help people.”

“What led you to Crested Butte?” I asked. “Did you grow up out here?”

“I grew up in Denver, but my family used to take trips out here to ski. When I heard there was a shortage of doctors, it was an easy choice. I found someone renting a room for cheap—that turned out to be Jack, and we became good buddies.”

“You were renting one of the colorful cabins?”

“Nah,” Noah replied. “This was way before he and Sam started that place.”

“Sam? Who’s Sam?”

Noah tensed. “I, uh, probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“Who’s Sam?” I repeated.

“Someone you’ll have to ask Jack about.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “So I rented a room from Jack for the first year, then purchased an empty lot by the river. I camped on the land for a year while my house was built, taking morning baths in the river before going to work at the clinic. Now I’m happier than I ever thought I could be.”

“It must have been hard to move on,” I said sympathetically.

“Sure. But it’s in the past.”

“You seem so positive and happy,” I insisted. “I never would’ve guessed you experienced all those horrible things.”

“I lived through an explosion and only got a scratch on my leg,” he said bluntly. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world. It’s the other guys who have reasons to dwell on their trauma. Compared to them, I’ve got it easy.”

Our meals arrived, and I chewed on his comments while chewing my actual food. Compared to what he went through, getting cheated on and spraining my ankle were quaint little speed bumps. If he was able to move on, it gave me hope for myself.

Enough about that , I told myself. Relax and enjoy your date with Mr. Amazing Doctor .