Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Amka stared at the wall for a second, then looked back. “Oh.”
May smiled softly. “I’d say you’ve given it a solid run for its money.”
Silence lingered. Emotion flickered across Amka’s face too fast to name.
May rested a hand on her knee. “You’re happy about this, right?”
Amka blinked, shock slowly giving way to something brighter. “Well… yes. I mean, I’m really happy about it. We definitely want kids.” She hesitated. “But Christian is going to lose his mind.”
“Lose his mind how?” May asked.
“He’ll be happy,” Amka said quickly. “Of course he’ll be happy. He wants kids. But he’s supposed to leave for three months for training. He won’t go if I’m pregnant. You know how overprotective he is.”
May stood and wrapped her arms around her friend. “Hey. It’s okay.”
Amka laughed softly against her shoulder, sounding half breathless, half overwhelmed.
“He can still go,” May said, easing back. “People manage this all the time. Work doesn’t disappear because life happens.”
“You don’t know Christian.”
May grinned. “Oh, I do. He’ll worry. He’ll hover. He’ll probably try to bubble-wrap you.”
Amka huffed a laugh.
“You’re not alone here,” May continued. “You’ve got friends everywhere. You’ve got support, and he can come back on weekends whenever possible.”
Amka looked down at the books, eyes suddenly shining. “Oh my gosh.”
May watched the realization fully land.
“I’m pregnant,” Amka whispered. Then she laughed. A bright, disbelieving sound that filled the room.
Relief loosened the knot in May’s stomach. This. This was why she did what she did. Not the emergencies, not the injuries, not the endless on-call nights. Moments like this. Life. Hope. Something good. “Yes. You are.”
Wonder filled Amka’s eyes. “Christian is seriously going to freak out.”
“He’s going to be thrilled,” May said.
“I have to find the right time to tell him. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Or you’ll tell him in five minutes.”
Amka grinned. “Probably.”
May laughed. As the happiness settled into the space between them, quiet and warm, her thoughts drifted.
To Ace.
To the way he’d offered his spare room without pressure. To the way he’d looked at her like she mattered. To the fierce protectiveness he didn’t even try to hide. Yeah. She could see him being exactly like Christian with someone he loved. The realization caught her off guard.
And unsettled her far more than it should.
Chapter Thirteen
May’s phone buzzed right before dinnertime. The vibration rattled against the wooden desk, breaking the quiet rhythm of the clinic. She finished the line she was typing, closed out the note she’d been completing for a patient who’d fallen on a dock, and set the patient charts aside with careful precision. The late-day light slanted through the blinds, thin gold bands stretching across the floor and climbing the opposite wall. Her shoulders ached from hours of sitting, and the faint smell of antiseptic hung stubbornly in the air.
She answered on the second buzz. “Dr. Smirnov.”
“It’s Amos.” He cleared his throat, the sound dry and slightly breathless.
“Hey, Amos,” she murmured, relaxing into her chair. The man lived in the basement of the sheriff’s building and served as Knife’s Edge’s unofficial weather expert. “Do we have another summer storm coming?”
“Actually, we do. I don’t want to spook you, but we’ve got a fast-moving cell building west of Knife’s Edge. Lightning’s already popping inside it.” Papers rustled faintly on his end. “It’s probably going to make impact in about forty-five minutes. Less if the wind keeps pushing it.”
May straightened. Outside, the wind pressed against the siding in uneven bursts. “Okay.”
“The rain’s going to be heavy,” Amos continued, sounding distracted now, “and the gusts could get nasty.”
May pulled the elastic from her ponytail and rubbed the back of her neck, tension unwinding in a dull, persistent throb. “I understand.”
“The biggest danger I see,” Amos said, “is lightning strikes. Especially for the morons who keep fishing. With this wind, we could also see hypothermia.”
“Yes, I know.” Even in July, that was a distinct possibility around Knife’s Edge. The air could turn cold without mercy with the brutal rain slicing warmth straight from skin. “Anything else?”
He coughed lightly. “Maybe some boating accidents. We’re talking a really decent storm.”
May sighed. So much for a quiet evening. “Of course we are.”
“Otherwise I wouldn’t be calling you, Doc.” A beat passed, then he added, “It wouldn’t surprise me if we see power flickers or even a loss.”
“Our generator’s ready if we need it.” May’s gaze drifted to the emergency checklist taped beside the cabinets. If the trails turned to mud, she’d likely see twisted ankles and broken wrists before the night was over.
“Alrighty,” Amos said, his normal cheer returning. “Prepare for hypothermia and bad decisions.”
She grinned. “Always. Hey, Amos, thanks for calling.”
“You bet. There’s also activity going on up in the sheriff’s office above me. I hear rapid movement, but I don’t know what it is.”
She stiffened. “Thanks for the heads-up. Talk soon.”
“You’ve got it.” Amos ended the call.