There was a moment of silence. “I’m not sure, but I’ll be staying around here. I don’t want to be more than fifty miles or so from my mother. I’m all she’s got. I’ll be doing pediatric ortho next, and I’m really looking forward to it.”
Relief made him kiss the top of her head. “Good plan.”
“Thanks.” Her fingers tickled his chest, played with the hairs there. “What about you? What are your plans?”
Hell if he knew. His gut reaction was to snap at her, tell her there were no plans but to get better. But Josie deserved better than that. She deserved the truth, and he needed to speak it out loud.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Josie, that I have trouble even admitting to myself.” Pulling in a tight breath, he stared off into the endless ocean. “I don’t know how to make plans because I’m afraid my thumb is never going to bend again. And I’m scared. I’m really damn scared.”
Josie felt tears prick her eyes again. Part sorrow for Houston, that he was facing an uncertain future, and part joy that he had confided in her something so personal and painful.
She stroked his chest, nuzzled her mouth in his neck. “I wouldn’t think you were normal if you weren’t scared.”
His breath expelled onto her head in a quick burst.
“And I’ll tell you a secret, Houston.” A deep, buried secret that she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge was real until now. “I don’t want to be a surgeon. Isn’t that just completely stupid?
I really thought I did. I thought it would be solving puzzles, looking at X-rays, and making diagnoses. I knew I wanted to be adoctor, to follow in my father’s footsteps. Then he died of cancer when I was fifteen, and I felt like I had promised him I’d be a surgeon. But I really think it’s not for me.”
His grip tightened on her, and she pulled back a little to see his face. “I’m a really confident, happy person, you know, and I loved med school, but since I started my residency all I do is doubt myself. I feellousyabout myself.”
And talking about it now made her feel vulnerable, but he had confessed his doubts and fears, so she was glad she’d come clean with hers.
“You’re an excellent doctor, Josie, never doubt that.”
Of course he had to say that since she was sitting in his lap. On the other hand, Houston wasn’t known for sugar-coating the truth. It made her feel better.
She stroked his hand. “It will work out, Houston. You’ll heal.”
“And you’ll be a stellar surgeon.”
Maybe these were delusions they were feeding each other, but sitting on the sand—close, confessing—felt so intimate and solid, and gave her hope that somehow, they would work things out between them. Everything would work out.
Half-joking, she said, “Since we’re confessing and telling secrets, you know what else I’m afraid of? Garbage trucks.”
Houston laughed. “Garbage trucks? Why?”
“I’m always convinced someone is being caught and compacted in that metal press when they push the button. Very scary.” She gave an involuntary shudder just thinking about it. “I think it was watchingStar Warsat age nine that did it.”
He brushed his lips back and forth over her forehead. “I’m afraid of food poisoning. Does that count as a confession? It’s an irrational fear of salmonella.”
Josie snorted, starting to enjoy herself. “When I was twelve, I stole a lip gloss from the drug store on a dare, then felt so bad I put it back on the shelf after I had used it once.”
“You naughty little girl.”
Houston urged her to her feet and she rose, hands on hips, using the heel of her foot to brush sand off her leg.
“What about you? Didn’t you do anything you’d like to confess?”
He helped her brush the sand off with a few well-placed strokes across the back of her calves and thighs, and one light swat on her ass that had her smacking back at him.
“When I was sixteen and Jenny Stanislaski used to call, I’d have Kori tell her I wasn’t home because I didn’t want to talk to her.”
“That’s terrible,” she said in mock horror.
“Hideous,” he agreed. “Now take your T-shirt off so I can see that bikini.”
His thoughts were never far from having her naked, and she was not complaining. “I wasn’t planning on going in the water.”