Full Page Image

Copyright

FLY BYE

Copyright © 2022 by C.W. Farnsworth

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Editing by Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing

Cover Design by Kim Bailey, Bailey Cover Boutique

Print ISBN: 9798447969141

Dedication

To looking for happy endings in places you probably shouldn’t.

And persevering.

Fly By

FLY BY

verb

To pass (someone or something) by flying

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’ve done my best to represent the places and professions depicted in this book accurately. However, it is ultimately a work of fiction and I’ve taken some creative liberties that depart from total accuracy. For anyone with extensive knowledge of these locations or careers, I hope the adjustments don’t detract from the reading experience.

CONTENTS

Synopsis

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by C.W. Farnsworth

SYNOPSIS

The first time I saw Grayson Phillips, I fell. Tripped, to be specific. His seven-year-old self saved me from scraped knees and sentenced me to a fate of pining after my brother’s best friend for years.

People change. Childish crushes fade. I’m an adult now, a doctor with more important things to worry about. I gave up on the boy next door ever loving me a long time ago.

Or so I thought…until he returns to our hometown on leave from the Air Force. For the first time, not everything between us feels one-sided. That doesn’t make it matter. He’ll take off soon—literally.

I’m a fly by to him. Nothing more than a passing interest. A distraction.

I know getting involved with him will mean saying goodbye to my heart.

I know I should say no.

I know I’ll say yes.

CHAPTER ONE

I fell the first time I saw him.

Literally.

Pitch forward, face inches away from the pavement, scary stomach lurch fell. The sort of unexpected motion that leaves your palms sweaty and your heart pounding long after you’re back upright.

My best friend, Sloane’s, babysitter returned me home after picking our five-year-old selves up from the first day of Charleston Zoo’s summer camp. And there he was—a scrawny stranger playing basketball by the garage with my older brother, Noah, as movers unloaded furniture from two yellow vans parked in front of the house next door. I tripped on one of the scooters Noah often left lying on the asphalt driveway and was saved from the unfortunate fate of two skinned knees—the worst non-life-threatening injury besides a stubbed toe, in my opinion—by quick reflexes.

I looked up into the green eyes of my seven-year-old savior, and I was done.

Bye, heart. It was nice knowing you.

Following that fateful afternoon, my feelings for Grayson Phillips went through cyclical phases. Awed, annoyed, attempts at apathy. Five months older than Noah, he was a couple of grades ahead of me in school. A small separation that felt gaping, especially when the two of them moved on to middle school and then high school.

As we grew older, Noah became less childish and more protective. He’d invite—even encourage—me to hang out with him and his friends. I spent plenty of time around Gray from the day he moved in next door until he moved out when I was sixteen. The more time I spent around Gray, the better I became at acting indifferent toward him. I adamantly denied having a crush on Gray to all of my friends, even Sloane, especially once it became very evident he was interested in girls, just not me.

It probably would have been a more convincing lie if not for the fact that Gray was the guy every girl had a crush on.

The last time I saw him was almost four years ago—he was back in Charleston on break from the Air Force Academy in Colorado, and I was home from Boston, visiting my parents. Noah and I ended up at a local bar to catch up with a bunch of people from high school. Gray showed up as I was ordering a drink and proceeded to loudly ask if little Evie Collins was old enough to consume alcohol. Never mind that I was only six weeks past twenty-one at the time. He followed it up with a joke about my bangs, which I now acknowledge were a mistake. He left after forty-five minutes—not that I counted—with Miranda Hendrix, my junior year biology partner.

That was the extent of our interaction.

I thought I was finally indifferent to his existence. The acrobatics in my stomach as I flick my gaze between the phone in my hand and the mirror I attached to the back of my bedroom door this morning say otherwise. I’m overreacting. Slightly. Okay, a lot. I’m close with my brother and ecstatic about being able to see him more than once a year, which became the norm. His worst offense today is the six-worded text I’ve spent the past ten minutes staring at.

Noah: Running late. Picking up Gray first.

There’s a slim possibility Noah isn’t referring to the Gray who’s been his best friend since the Phillips family moved in next door. Noah started work at a new architecture firm a month ago; he could have made a new friend. My older brother could become best buddies with a brick wall.

And Gray isn’t that unusual of a name.

But it’s him. It has to be him. And it shouldn’t matter he’s in Charleston instead of deployed who knows where. I’m an adult now, not a starry-eyed kid. A doctor. Who cares if the only guy I’ve ever really wanted has never shown any interest in me? I gave up on the fantasy of having a fairy-tale romance with Gray a long time ago. My younger self envisioned it all—candy-heart deliveries in homeroom, going to homecoming together, making out under the bleachers, trips to the beach. I could picture it happening so clearly, watch it like a movie in my mind. And it all did happen…just not with him.

I’ve dated other guys. One of them turned into a serious relationship. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to encounter a single guy who has ever elicited a tenth of the emotion in me Gray Phillips does by simply existing.

Growing up, I was the girl who arrived home ten minutes before curfew. Who was the designated drunk driver for most of high school. Who took every advanced placement science course Charleston East High offered so I was ensured a spot in Boston University’s uber-competitive seven-year medical school graduation program. At twenty-five, I have a bachelor’s degree and already took the Hippocratic oath.

I’m accomplished. I’ve done everything right. I’ve always been the girl who does everything right.

But one text mentioning his name, and I’m reassessing my entire outfit. It’s infuriating. Pathetic. I’m back to being the twelve-year-old girl who biked two miles to peruse Charleston Surf’s flipper collection just because Gray worked there his freshman year. It could be considered sweet, I guess.

Or stalking.

I yank off the green T-shirt dress I was wearing and swap it for a pink cotton one that’s tight in the torso but flares at the waist.

“Evie! You ready?” Sloane calls.

If she’s ready, then I’ve taken even longer than I thought. Sloane is notorious for her tardiness. In high school, our shared friend group used to tell her we were meeting an hour earlier than we actually were. Half the time, she was still late.

I cast one final glance at my reflection. I got my hair cut yesterday. Now, the blonde strands fall just past my shoulders. I let it dry naturally, so there’s a slight wave to the texture. My blue eyes look wide, excited. The sleek lines of the pink dress make me look put together. Poised. Professional. Like I’m headed to a polo match or a lawn party. I take a deep breath and open my bedroom door before I decide against this outfit too. Most of my wardrobe is still in boxes. I don’t have any other option that won’t involve hacking at tape and flying fabric.

Sloane, my best friend and roommate, is lounging against the couch in the living room, scrolling on her phone. I’d bet my meager savings she’s on a dating app.

She glances up and eyes my appearance. “You changed.”

“Yeah. Did you like the green dress better?” I literally can’t remember the last time I wore anything besides scrubs or yoga pants. I’m out of practice on the whole dressing-up thing.

Sloane’s head tilts to the left as she studies me. “No, the pink is cute.” She stands. “Is Noah almost here?”

“No, he’s running late.” I don’t say why. “Let’s just Uber.”

One brown eyebrow arches. “You were just complaining about how broke you are last night.”

“I am broke. But I’m also earning money for the first time ever, not just sinking further into debt.”

Sloane rolls her eyes. “Please. You’ll pay off your med school loans in no time. Doctors make a ton. The Phillipses are filthy rich.”

“Dr. Phillips runs the whole hospital, Sloane. I’m a first-year resident. Two very different pay grades.”

“Whatever. Dr. Phillips loves you. You’ll be promoted in no time.”

I smile. “That’s not at all how it works.”

Sloane is no longer listening to me, back on her phone and pulling up what I’m guessing is the Uber app. “Jimmy will be here in two minutes,” she announces, heading toward the door.

“Great.” I double-check I have everything I need in my bag, triple-checking for the two boxes of candles, then follow her out onto the porch and down the stairs.

We’ve lived here for just over a week. I moved back to the South from Boston as soon as I graduated from medical school. Sloane left her job as an administrative assistant at a fashion magazine in New York City to return to Charleston and start work as a paralegal at a private law firm. After one week, both of our jobs are still exciting and nerve-racking—and in my case, exhausting.

My first shifts as an honest-to-God doctor were fueled by pure adrenaline. It was mildly—and by mildly, I mean, paralyzingly—terrifying to realize that years of flash cards and tests and clinicals resulted in the responsibility of having people’s lives in my hands. Knowing that would be the case was very different than actually meeting patients relying on me to diagnose and treat them correctly.

I found my first few days overwhelming. Sloane found hers underwhelming. I’m not sure if she regrets moving back—not yet, at least—but I’m grateful she did. The two of us grew up practically attached at the hip. It wouldn’t feel like home without her here.

June sunshine filters down from the sky as we wait for Jimmy to arrive. It’s only eleven a.m. The sun hasn’t risen directly overhead, but it’s already burning bright and full. I acclimated more to the Northeast climate than I realized because the heat is harsher than I expected.

I study the exterior of our new home from the curb. We lucked out, finding this place. The bungalow is newly renovated but still has the charm the bazillions of cookie-cutter apartments we looked at sorely lacked. Its only downside is that the bus routes ensure it takes me half an hour to make it to work. Once I have a car, that will get cut down to fifteen. The brick exterior and front porch make up for it for now. There’s also a patio in the backyard, perfect for enjoying the summer nights. Sloane and I strung up lights out there last night. Despite the fact that less than half of our belongings have been unpacked, it feels like home.

Jimmy pulls up in a silver Prius less than a minute later. I text Noah back as we start down the street.

Evie: We’ll just meet you there.

I slip my phone back into my bag and then stare out the window at the colorful buildings of Charleston as they flash by.

“What do you think?” A photo of a blond man standing next to a surfboard is waved in front of my face, blocking the scenery. “He’s cute, right?”

I squint at the screen. “That’s an old photo.”

“What?” Sloane pulls it back and peers at it. “How do you know?”

“That’s at Folly Beach. They built that huge hotel up behind it, remember? The construction started right before I moved to Boston.”

“Dammit. You’re right. How’d I miss that?”

“Probably because you were more focused on his abs than the swimming pool atop old sea turtle habitats.”

Sloane rolls her eyes, then swipes right. “Well, maybe he has an eight-pack now.”

“Or he’s over thirty,” I say before I go back to staring out the window.

Under thirty and employed are Sloane’s two requirements when it comes to men. She views online dating as the highest form of entertainment. She’s tried to get me to sign up for it countless times by telling me it’s the only way to meet someone these days, but I guess unrequited feelings didn’t completely destroy the hopeless romantic in me. I’m still clinging to the fantasy of meeting a decent guy without the aid of computer code and carefully curated photos.

The Prius stops outside my childhood home ten minutes later. It’s a white-shingled ranch my parents bought when they got married. They’ve hung on to it as the value of the neighborhood skyrocketed, resulting in the surrounding properties being torn down and larger homes being built in the sought-after location close to Edgefield Park. My parents’ place has two bathrooms and three bedrooms. The Phillipses’ house next door comically towers over it with its three stories, screened porch, upper balcony, and four-car garage. The only feature my parents’ house has that theirs doesn’t is a pool.

Our lot is large—mostly thanks to the fact that the house’s square footage is a small fraction of the neighbors’—and my mom is an avid swimmer. The installation was a fifteenth wedding anniversary gift to her from my dad. I wonder what he has planned for their thirtieth, which is what we’re celebrating today.

Sloane and I walk up the driveway and toward the backyard. Excitement fizzes in my stomach at the number of cars and the commotion coming from the backyard. I haven’t been home since Christmas, and that was a short visit. Even worse than the excitement is the anticipation.

It doesn’t matter if he’s here.

I’m not great at lying to myself. But I have perfected bored nonchalance when it comes to Gray. Even Sloane has stopped winking at me when his name comes up, and she can read me like a book most of the time.

The backyard is overflowing with people. It’s a perfect summer day—clear, sunny, and not too hot. Long tables line the patio, covered with dishes of food. My father is standing at the giant gas grill, which is his pride and joy, flipping burgers. My mother is in her element, placing tiny paper umbrellas in glasses of lemonade between replenishing appetizers. Most of the party attendees are friends of my parents, close to them in age, but the whole neighborhood was invited. There are a few couples here with younger kids, most of who are splashing around in the pool.

I head for my mom first. Sloane follows.

“Hey, Mom. Happy anniversary.”

“Evie!” My mom’s smile rivals the sun’s wattage as she hugs me tightly. She smells the same as always—like lemon and eucalyptus with a faint hint of chlorine.

I think my parents were worried I’d stay north after graduation. They’ve both made their relief that I decided to return to Charleston to complete my residency obvious.

“Happy anniversary, Mrs. C,” Sloane says, hugging my mom after me. She’s the youngest of eight and spent more time at my house than at her own growing up.

“Thank you, Sloane.” My mom beams. “I’m so happy you’re both here. Help yourself to some food.”

Sloane grabs a plate and starts filling it.

“I’m going to go say hi to Dad first,” I announce.

He’s still standing by the grill, proudly wearing The Grillfather apron Noah and I got him years ago, as he talks with Henry Phillips. Our next-door neighbor, my dad’s best friend, Gray Phillips’s father…and the chief of the hospital where I started my residency a few days ago. Which makes him my boss’s boss’s boss, basically.

“Hey, Dad,” I say when I reach him.

My dad hugs me to his side with a squeeze while simultaneously flipping sizzling meat. “Leigh-Leigh! You made it!”

I cringe at the childhood nickname. “I live ten minutes away now, Dad. Of course I made it.”

My dad chuckles. “I’m sure you had better ways to spend your Saturday.”

Not really. My social life is sadly lacking. The only reason Sloane hasn’t successfully dragged me out to a bar yet is because we’ve been too busy with our new jobs and unpacking.

I turn to greet Henry. “Hi, Dr. Phillips.”

He’s insisted I call him Henry since I was little, but the dynamic between us has changed. I sat in a sea of awed faces during orientation as he welcomed us all to Charleston General Hospital. I personally witnessed his mere presence in an examination room make an experienced surgeon’s hands tremble.

He chuckles. “Save the formalities for the hospital, Dr. Collins.” He winks.

Even after years of hard work to earn the title, it still feels weird to hear it.

“How have your first few days been?”

Overwhelming. Chaotic. Stressful. “Good.”

Henry smiles knowingly. “Parts get easier. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work so far.”

I flush, forever unable to take a compliment gracefully.

Henry’s eyes flit away from my face to look behind me. “You’re here.” His tone changes. I know what that means before I turn around to look.

Gray Phillips closes the final couple of feet that separate us, appearing at my side to face our fathers. “Don’t sound so excited, Pops. I might think you’re happy I made it home in one piece.”

My father and I both shift uncomfortably. Gray and Henry have always had a strained relationship. They butt heads at every possible opportunity. Henry likes to be in control of situations, to command them. It’s what makes him a fantastic chief. And it’s a trait he passed along to his son.

“You signed up for it, Grayson.”

Henry held out hope for years that Gray would follow his footsteps to Duke and its medical school, right up until Gray announced he was headed to the Air Force Academy in Colorado instead. Gray hadn’t even told anyone he applied. It was the talk of Charleston East High School—not to mention, our neighborhood—for weeks.

“Damn right, I did.” Gray looks away from his father to mine. “Good to see you, Adam.”

“You too, Gray. Nice to have you back.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Out of all other options to greet, his gaze slides to…me. Last choice, like always. Aside from the occasional teasing comment, Gray usually treats me the way people who don’t like animals treat their friends’ pets—with polite indifference.

“Hey, Everleigh.”

My teeth grind together. I hate being called by my full name. Which he knows. With the exception of my parents and Noah, who occasionally call me Leigh-Leigh, I go by Evie everywhere.

“If you’re going to be so formal, Grayson, you should call me Dr. Collins.”

I don’t know what his official title in the Air Force is, or I would use that. Noah mentioned he was the youngest something or other, which doesn’t surprise me at all. Gray is a born leader. He oozes charisma when he wants to, and he uses it.

Gray studies me, the picture of amused indifference. If the sniping with his father bothered him, there’s no trace of it visible on his handsome face now. His green eyes scan my features. Aside from my lack of bangs, I don’t think I look that different from the last time he saw me, even though it’s been three and a half years.

“Noah mentioned you finally graduated. Well done.”

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!

Read the complete book free online → 🔗

Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!

Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!

Happy Reading!