Page 159 of What We Break
My phone starts ringing.
The sound cuts through everything. I glance over at where I left it on the counter, and my stomach drops.
Dr. Parker.
"You should get that," Reid says, noticing the change in my expression.
Should I?
Dr. Parker and I worked together in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria. Eighteen-hour days in a makeshift clinic, working miracles with limited supplies and sheer determination. He's brilliant, dedicated—the kind of doctor who goes where he's needed most. We haven't spoken in more than a year.
If he's calling on a Saturday morning, it's not to chat about the weather.
"It's probably work related," I say, not moving to answer.
The ringing stops. Good. Maybe he'll?—
It starts again immediately.
Reid's eyebrows go up. "Must be important."
Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of.
I reach for the phone. "Dr. Parker. How are you?"
"Laine! God, it's good to hear your voice." His voice is warm, familiar, and suddenly I'm back in that clinic—sweat and adrenaline and the satisfaction of doing something that mattered. "I heard through the grapevine that you've settled in Oregon. How's that treating you?"
"Really well, actually. I love it here." The words come out automatically, but they're true. I do love it here. I love Reid's hands still resting on my waist, love the smell of maple syrup and coffee in my kitchen, love that we have nowhere to be except right here.
"That's wonderful. You sound happy."
"I am happy."
More than happy. Content in a way I've never been.
"Right. Well, I have an opportunity I think you'd be interested in," Dr. Parker continues, and there it is. The reason for the Saturday morning call. "I've secured funding to build a clinic in rural Honduras. Three-year commitment, full autonomy to develop programs, train local staff. It's exactly the kind of work you were born for, Laine."
Three years. Honduras. Building something from scratch.
My throat gets tight. I should say something polite and noncommittal. I should tell him I'm flattered but not interested.
"Tell me more," I say instead.
Reid's smile fades. His hands slide off my waist.
"The community has about two thousand people, but the nearest hospital is four hours away on roads that wash out during rainy season. We'd be starting from scratch—building the clinic, establishing protocols, creating sustainable care systems."
My pulse picks up. Starting from scratch. That's what I'm good at—walking into chaos and creating order. Taking nothing and building a legacy.
Reid takes a step back. Leans against the opposite counter, arms crossed.
Don't look at me like that.I turn away slightly, focusing on Dr. Parker's voice.
"We'd want you to help design the training programs for localnurses, and oversee implementation. You'd have complete creative control over how we approach community health education." His voice gets excited. "Laine, this is the chance to build something that will outlast us. Something that will save lives for generations."
What I have here matters too.I glance at Reid. He's staring at the floor now. His jaw is tight.
I should have let it go to voicemail.
