Doctor Charmer (Doctors of Eastport General)

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Ivy

“ H old on to that ball,” I shout, twisting in my front-row seat in the van, taking in the laughter of the girls. My girls. Eight members of the Cromwell College women’s volleyball team filled with giddiness from us pulling off a monumental victory against a school that is nationally ranked.

Chelsea snatches the flagrant volleyball from the air, her deft hands always reliable. “I got it, Coach.” She shoots me a wink from the back seat and stuffs the ball underneath the seat in front of her.

I blow her a kiss, still floating on air that we are here. Our little team was never supposed to make the regional tournament. When we received the surprise selection, we had no funds for this trip. We didn’t even have transportation.

I twist back in my seat, my gaze taking in the dark, snow-covered, single-lane country road. We’re in the middle of nowhere Rhode Island, headed to the team’s hotel located outside a town called Eastport. “Thanks again for driving. And for getting us the van,” I thank our chauffeur and savior, Griffin Smart. He’s a member of the men’s volleyball and basketball team and scored us access to the basketball van, a precious resource in our fund-challenged school.

Griffin is a sweetheart and pitched in at every fundraising event we held over the last few weeks for this trip.

He reaches up to his rear-view mirror and adjusts it, something I’ve seen him do regularly. He’s not all altruistic; his reputation on campus is legendary, and he’s set his sights on the girls on my team. It would be much easier to manage if half the team didn’t already carry a crush on him.

“You know I’d do anything to spend time with you gals.” He doesn’t even try to hide the devilish smirk spreading across his face. If I were ten years younger, he’d be exactly the type of bad boy I’d get in trouble with.

“Well, I still appreciate you taking an interest. We’re a family, and we stick together and look out for one another. Welcome to the family.” I give him the mantra I’ve instilled in the girls, hoping to keep him on the straight and narrow.

His chuckle is his deflection. “Think of me less as family and more of the hot, next-door neighbor.” He flirts relentlessly, even with me. “I can’t believe you gals gave up your Christmas break for the tournament.”

I shift and stare at the icy, deserted, and windy road. Tall, bare trees covered in snow give a beautiful backdrop. “The girls were excited for the invite.” It’s what I tell myself as I pushed for this. These types of opportunities don’t come along very often. I think of my family, who moved our Christmas celebration up a day to accommodate my schedule. My two sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles all crashed at my place to celebrate before I had to rush off with the team for the start of the tournament scheduled for Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. “I think most of them weren’t looking forward to spending that much time at home with family,” I joke with Griffin. We’re booked at the hotel for the next week, and the team unanimously voted to stay the full stay, even if we lost in the first round.

I may be the cool coach, but they’ve been strangely mum about New Year’s Eve plans. I know that’s the real reason for their decision, and whatever is in the works doesn’t include inviting their coach, even if she’s the youngest one on the circuit.

Griffin slows the van on a tight curve, and I hear the gasp escape from my lips before he screeches. “Hold on!” My hands brace against the dashboard, my gaze locked on the three cars in the middle of the road ahead of us. Mangled metal and smoke from a car accident on the icy road.

My heart leaps to my throat as their headlights sweep through the window, lighting up the insides of the van. My immediate thought is of the girls. “Griff!” I scream. His jaw clenches, and he pulls on the steering wheel with all his strength. The sound of Johnny Mathis singing about chestnuts is overtaken by the crunch of tires on snow. We spin, each turn taking us closer to the mangled mess in the middle of the road.

Griffin grunts and whips the wheel in the opposite direction, attempting to control the uncontrollable. We fishtail, and I hold my breath, preparing for the worst.

By some miracle, Griffin regains control of the vehicle, our two right tires falling slightly into the ditch on the side of the road. He fights the sudden shift in direction, navigating us around the cars in the road. We’re not out of trouble yet. The ditch falls off, easily a five-foot drop into the woods. With half the van in the ditch, the rest wants to follow.

“Not today!” Griffin shouts with a determined look he gives his opponents on the volleyball court. His bravado is contagious. He makes me believe.

“Everyone to the left side of the van,” I turn and shout. “Now!” I capture their frightened faces but know they will comply. Me shouting instructions at them is second nature.

Four bodies leap to the left, landing on their seatmates, the van filling with a new set of screams. The tires catch grip, the tire underneath me on the front right spinning on air.

Slowly, we rise out of the ditch, one final spin as the wheels catch, and we wind up back in the center of the road. Griffin slams on the brakes, stopping on the other side of the accident. Somehow, we avoided it.

We’re safe.

“Not on my watch.” Griffin slaps his palms to the steering wheel so hard the van shakes. I take my first breath since we came around the bend.

“Is everyone all right?” I unbuckle my seat belt, ready to race to the girls’ assistance. “Sound off.” I call for them to give me the countdown I do for bed check.

They respond with laughter. Uncontrolled, we just saw our lives flash in front of our eyes laughter. Through laughter, they each call out their names in alphabetical order, and it’s the greatest serenade I’ve ever heard.

“The legend of Griffin grows,” Elise says from the seat behind Griffin, her hand patting him across his shoulder.

The girls begin a slow clap of appreciation, and I exhale. “Let’s not celebrate too soon. Looks like there might be some injured people back there not as fortunate.”

“Give me one moment to put on my Superman cape, and I’ll help.” Griffin smirks in my direction before turning to face the girls. “Who wants to be my Supergirl?”

I don’t bother counting the number of hands shooting to the ceiling of the van, volunteering to be Griffin’s partner. Yeah, they got it bad, and he knows it.

“They’re family, remember,” I whisper to warn Griffin, not for the first time.

He leans toward me. “Hot neighbor, remember?”

I brace myself for Griffin’s trademark smirk, half lip curl, half snarl, one hundred percent heart melting. Instead, I’m greeted with a horrified expression that sends shivers down my spine. Wide eyes, pupils dilated, his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. A flash of headlights illuminates his face, casting Halloween shadows across his chest.

I whip my head around to see what he sees—a colossal tractor-trailer skidding uncontrollably on the ice, barreling straight toward us. The blare of its horn is deafening, but it’s too late. Too late to swerve. Too late to escape.

My instincts take over: protect the girls . I scream a useless instruction in their direction and throw myself toward Griffin to shield him.

It’s too little. It’s too late. I barely have time to say a quick prayer before everything turns black.