Dating Dr. Dreamy - Lili Valente Page 0,15

time before that girl figures it out, too.”

“I’m going to get the boat,” I grit out, reminding myself that he’s saying those things about Lark to get a rise out of me, and if I take the bait then he wins.

And I refuse to let him win. Or ruin anything else for me.

Not now. Not ever again.

“Good.” His mouth pulls into a frown. “Take it, and don’t bring it back. I don’t want your shit taking up space in my barn anymore. You bring it back here, and I’m selling it for whatever I can get.”

“Sounds good.” I turn my back on him, knowing if I stay much longer I’ll lose all the ground I gained in therapy and let him drag me back into the dirt with him.

“Good seeing you, Mason,” he calls after me. “Glad all your dreams came true.”

The way he says it turns everything into a joke—all the years of study, all the sleepless nights during my residency, everything I learned and everything I fought for. The past four years living in a rat hole of an apartment, eating macaroni and cheese and taking handy man jobs during my rare time off to save enough money for a down payment on a condo in Atlanta—to Parker, it’s all a joke, and coming back for Lark is the biggest joke of all.

She was too good for me when we were younger, and she’s too good for me now. I hear what he’s saying loud and clear: I’m might be trash with an M.D. and a better haircut, but I’m still trash.

And maybe he has a point. Lark is from one of the most established families in Bliss River, from a long line of people who care about each other and stand up for each other and are classy and intelligent and kind and believe in good things happening to good people. For me to think that I could ever truly be a part of that—especially after what I did to Lark—is laughable.

No, I think as I stomp into the shadowy barn and pick my way through the mess of half-finished projects my uncle is never going to see through to completion.

It isn’t laughable, and I’m not a joke. I’m doing my best to make amends and prove I deserve a second chance, and I’m not going to let Parker poison me with doubt. I’m going to take Lark out and have a wonderful afternoon, and afterwards I’ll find somewhere to keep my boat.

One of my basketball buddies from high school, or my old friend, Nash, might be interested in having it around. I’ll either find someone to share it with in exchange for storage, or sell the damned thing myself. I’m not bringing it back here for Parker to sell.

I’m not coming back here again, period.

I pause with my hands on the edge of the tarp that covers the boat, the realization hitting me hard.

I don’t have to come back here.

Not ever again. I’m finally free.

I suppose I’ve been free for a long time—since high school, I only lived with Uncle Parker during the summers, and I haven’t seen him at all in the past four years—but some part of me still felt tied to him.

After all, he’s the only family I have left.

I haven’t seen my mom since the day she skipped town, the summer before my junior year of high school. She used to call every few months, but by the time I graduated from college, the calls had stopped. Last I heard from her, she was moving to Mexico with husband number ten and planned to send me her new number when she was settled.

The call never came.

If I cut myself off from Uncle Parker, I’ll truly be a man without a clan.

There was a time when the thought would have scared me, or at least felt wrong. Parker didn’t have to take me in. He could have left me to fend for myself, especially after high school, when I was legally an adult. If he hadn’t let me shack up with him here at his farm during the summers, I never would have been able to save enough money to pay for my apartment and expenses during the school year. I would have had to go to school part time, and it would have taken years longer for me to get my M.D. And yeah, we fought and he beat the shit out of me sometimes, but he also played a part in