Summer of Love

by Marie Ferrarella

  A wave of foreboding licked at her toes, then her ankles. Soon it was waist deep and rising.

  She reached out to touch him, but the second she did, he backed away and found his trousers, sliding into them and fastening them before he looked at her again.

  “I was going to wait and tell you later, but this seems as good a time as any.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “They’ve found a permanent replacement for Dr. Cordoba. He arrives in two weeks.”

  She wasn’t sure what this had to do with them. “Chelsea will continue her sessions with him, then.”

  “Yes.” He scooped his dress shirt from the floor and pushed his arms through the sleeves.

  Why was he getting dressed? This was good news. They wouldn’t have to hide their relationship anymore.

  Right?

  “So that means we’ll be able to see each other without—”

  “No.” His lean fingers moved quickly to button up his shirt. “We won’t. I’m putting in my transfer papers. You knew this was only a temporary assignment. Just until they found another doctor. I’m going back to San Diego.”

  What? Her mind screamed that word over and over and over until it was hoarse with grief and confusion.

  He’d made love to her last night as if he couldn’t get enough. As if she really meant something to him. And now he was leaving?

  Shades of the past came back to haunt her. Hadn’t he already done this once before? Screwed her and then taken off without a backward glance?

  The ominous wave was still rising, faster than ever, splashing up her neck and cresting over her head until she couldn’t breathe. Horror washed through her at all she’d done with him last night, at how truly and freely she’d given herself to him.

  In. Love.

  And he’d felt nothing. Nothing.

  As the silence drew out, he finally broke it by saying, “I should have told you before …” He motioned at the bed.

  He hadn’t been willing to change his life for her twenty-odd years ago so why had she thought he would now?

  Sitting up and not bothering to cover her nakedness, she glared at him, welcoming the anger—because it kept away the tears. “Yes, you should have. But, then, you wouldn’t have had one last trip down memory lane, would you? Treating patients isn’t the only thing you’re good at, Dr. Marks. You’re also an expert at using people, and then ditching them when you’ve had what you wanted.”

  She climbed to her feet and stood there. Refusing to be vulnerable. Refusing to care what he did.

  Only she knew deep inside it was a lie. The cracks in the picture frame now mirrored the ones in her heart, splitting wide open and spilling everything inside her into the dust that had become her life.

  “Jess, that’s not the way this—”

  “No!” If he said one more word she was either going to burst into tears or slap him across the face with all her might. “Just go. Have Chelsea’s new doctor call us when he arrives.”

  He grabbed the rest of his clothes and shoved his bare feet into his dress shoes. “I’m sorry, Jess.”

  Tossing her head, she bit out a quick reply. “Don’t be. It was a blast from the past. We had our own mini high school reunion right here in my bedroom, but now it’s time to pack up and get back to our own lives, in our own cities.”

  She didn’t ask him exactly when he was leaving. She didn’t want to know.

  Clint’s throat moved as he looked at her for another minute. Then he said, “Goodbye, Jessi.”

  With that, he turned around and walked out of the bedroom, his receding footsteps on the hardwood floor marking his location and searing the message into her brain. There was no slowing of his pace, no hesitation as the front door opened and then closed.

  Clint was leaving. And this time he wasn’t coming back.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A WEEK WAS all it took to change his life forever.

  He’d filed expedited transfer papers, asking them to put him wherever they needed him, preferably deployed overseas. He wound up at the VA hospital in New Mexico instead.

  It might as well have been the other side of the world.

  He sat at a desk that looked exactly like his previous one and wondered how he’d gotten here. Aimless. Rootless. And, thus far, patientless. They were letting him get settled in.

  Right. Like that’s what he needed. More time to think about what had happened that night in Jessi’s bedroom.

  He’d been all set to tell her how he felt, and then he’d picked up that frame and seen the damage he’d caused.

  To her marriage. To her life.

  At that moment he’d felt as shattered as that glass.

  Being with Jessi again had wreaked havoc with his insides, turning him back into that impulsive screwup he’d been in high school.

  He couldn’t risk messing up her life a second time. Neither could he ask her to pick up and move away the next time he got his transfer papers. Jessi’s life was in Richmond. With Chelsea and her mom—and those two graves.

  Clint’s place was with his patients. The one thing he knew he was good at.

  She’d be okay without him. Seeing Chelsea get better would give her hope for a new beginning. He’d soon be relegated to the past again—where he belonged.

  His phone rang. He glanced at the readout and his mouth went dry, his blood pressure spiking.

  A Richmond area code.

  Only it wasn’t Jessi’s number. He didn’t recognize it.

  Damn it!

  When would the hope finally die? It was over. He’d ended it himself—and she hadn’t been sorry to see him go. She’d not said one word to discourage him. Instead, she’d practically shoved him out the door.

  Checking the door to his office to make sure it was closed, he pressed the speakerphone button and stared at the open case file in front of him. So much for trying to get up to speed.

  “Hello?”

  “Dr. Marks?”

  He recognized the voice immediately. “Chelsea? Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, everything’s fine with me. It’s Mom.”

  His heart plummeted. “Is she all right?”

  “No.” There was a pause, and then her voice came through. Stronger. With just a hint of accusation. “I saw you holding hands at the memorial service. How could you just … leave like that?”

  “I was transferred. You know how it works.”

  A curse word split the air, and Clint picked the phone up and put it to his ear, even though he knew his assistant wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation through the thick walls.

  Chelsea’s voice came back through. “You’re right. I do know how it works. And there’s no way you’d be able to get the okay for a transfer that fast unless you asked for it to be expedited. Or unless you’d been sitting on it this whole time.”

  “What does it matter? The Richmond hospital was a temporary assignment.”

  “Did I say something? Do something?”

  “No.” He hurried to set her mind at ease. “This had nothing to do with you, Chelsea. I’m proud of how hard you’ve worked on your recovery. You’ve faced the past head-on and now you’re ready to move into the future.”

  A laugh came over the phone, but it was without humor. “That’s what you always told us during group, wasn’t it? That we had to face the past and see it for what it was without running or hiding from the truth. But in the end that’s not what you did, is it?”

  Hell, how had a tiny slip of a girl managed to read him so well? He had run. He’d taken one look at that broken glass, and instead of facing his fears, instead of talking to Jessi about everything that had happened, he’d turned tail and run.

  Because he was afraid to face the future. Afraid his past would somehow catch up to him and splash its ugliness on to Jessi.

  In reality, he’d been looking for an excuse to flee ever since he’d seen her sitting in his office that first day.

  Why? Because he loved her, and just like back in hi
gh school he’d hightailed it out of town rather than having the courage to tell her how he felt and let her decide what to do with that information.

  “What happened between me and your mother isn’t any of your business.”

  “Sure it is. She’s. My. Mother.” She took an audible breath. “When I was in trouble, you never hesitated to bleed every detail of my therapy to her, because … she had a right to know the truth. She’s listed as my next of kin. Well, guess what, Doctor, that works both ways. I’m her next of kin. I have a right to know. Did you even care about her at all?”

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Well, she cares for you, too. She’s been smiling and saying all the right things, but she’s not okay. She looks awful.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not good enough. You might outrank me, but I’m going to tell you straight up what I think.”

  He smiled despite himself. “There’s no question you and your mom are related.”

  “Yeah? Well, here it is. You’re no better than a common deserter.”

  Shock rolled through him. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. When the battle inside your head got tough, you turned around and walked away, instead of acting like a soldier and facing it, the way you told us to do. She’s not the enemy, Dr. Marks. I don’t know what it is you’re fighting, but I suggest you figure it out and come back and face it. Otherwise you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  She looks awful.

  He’d rushed off so sure that he was doing the right thing and saving the woman he loved a whole lot of pain.

  What if he’d ended up causing her pain instead?

  Hell. He was an idiot. “Reprimand noted and accepted.”

  “Good. You said you cared about her. Do you love her?”

  He smiled, making a decision he should have made twenty-two years ago. “I think your mom deserves to hear that from the source, don’t you?”

  “Then get back here and tell her. Because I’m pretty sure she loves you, too.”

  Jessi pulled her sticky scrubs away from her midsection, fanning the fabric against herself as she headed into the parking lot. It was an hour past the end of her shift, and she was only now able to leave the hospital.

  A gang war had seen her dealing with multiple gunshot wounds. Two had died en route to the hospital and another three had needed surgery. One of them had a broken finger in addition to other more serious wounds, but that small injury had been the one that had made her finally break down and admit the truth. That she missed Clint. Terribly.

  She had a feeling Chelsea knew something was wrong, and her mom—almost completely recovered from her surgery a month ago—had also cast some worried looks her way. She had no idea why. She’d been acting cheerful, even if that’s all it was. An act.

  Straightening her back, she quickened her pace. This was ridiculous. How long was she going to keep mooning over something that was never going to happen? She needed to pull herself together and forget about …

  Keys in hand, she paused halfway across the parking lot. Someone in uniform stood near where she’d parked her car, the tall military bearing painfully familiar. How many times had she seen that stance?

  Her dad. Her daughter. In a military town, it was impossible not to recognize the proud upright posture. Only this went beyond that. This was …

  Clint.

  Oh, God. Something inside her urged her to turn around and dash back to the safety of the hospital.

  No. She was not going to let what that man did or didn’t do dictate her actions and emotions any longer. So she walked toward him, trying not to look directly at him as she did so, afraid he’d see the misery in her eyes.

  When she reached her car she saw that she was right, he was standing right next to it. She’d have to pass in front of him to get to the driver’s door.

  “I thought you’d left,” she said, her voice sounding as chipper as ever.

  “I did.” He didn’t move. Didn’t crack a smile at her tone. “I came back.”

  Her heart took a swan dive. What? Had he decided he hadn’t tortured her enough?

  She swallowed. “Why?”

  “Because I’m done running. When you told me about Larry and his death, it was like a hole opened up and swallowed me whole. If I hadn’t followed you that day … if I’d let him chase you outside instead, you’d still be one big happy family.”

  He drew in an audible breath. “And then I broke that frame, Larry’s frame, and it was as if the universe was sending me a message. That I’d screwed up your life once before, and I could very well do it again if I stayed.”

  Her own breath caught in her lungs before whooshing back out. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

  “Well, you didn’t. I—” He cut her off with a finger pressed across her lips.

  “Let me finish, while I still have the nerve. I came back to tell you I love you. I have since high school when I found you crying beside the creek.” He paused. “I gave you up once, thinking it was for your own good, but I’m not going to do it again. Unless you tell me to go.”

  She pushed his hand away.

  “Twice.” The correction came out before she could stop it. “You gave me up twice. Why should I believe you this time?”

  “Because it’s the truth, Jess. I swear it.” He took a step forward.

  She tried to force herself to move back, but she couldn’t. She just stood there, staring up at him. Maybe the summer heat had gone to her head and he was a mirage. After all, he didn’t look hot at all.

  Okay, so he looked superhot in that uniform, but not in the way she’d meant it.

  “So what changed your mind this time?”

  She had to know he hadn’t just come back on a whim. That he was here for the long haul this time.

  “That’s a complicated question. I’ve never been truly terrified of anything—not even my father. But you scare me, Jess. The fear that I might not be good enough for you because of my past. Larry’s death just seemed to echo that fear. It took a wise young woman to set me straight.”

  She frowned, until something clicked. “Chelsea.”

  He nodded. “Yes. She challenged me to come back and face my fears. So here I am. This is my battleground, and I’m not going to retreat. Not this time. Unless you tell me to.”

  He was handing her the power. Just like the last time they made love. Only this time it wasn’t a game, and she had to be very sure of her heart. Trust that he wasn’t going to leave, this time. That he wasn’t going to take off like Larry and do something crazy, instead of sitting down and talking out their problems.

  Did she trust him?

  Yes. If he had the guts to face his fears, then she owed it to herself—and him—to do the same.

  “Well, I guess we’re at an impasse, then,” she said in as serious a voice as she could manage, when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. “Because I’m not going to tell you to leave. And you’re evidently not going to leave on your own.”

  His eyes clouded for a second, but he stood firm. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then you’ll just have to stay.” She thought of something. “Wait. What about your transfer?”

  “It hasn’t been officially approved, it was still in the works, but they let me move early. My current contract is almost up, so I can resign my commission—go into private practice—if that tilts the odds in my favor. We wouldn’t have to move. Ever. We could stay right here in Richmond.”

  This time she did throw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Those odds were already tilted once I saw you standing here. I love you, too, Clint, no matter what you decide to do. You do so much good for people like Chelsea. And if the paperwork on your transfer goes through before you can cancel it, I’m coming with you.”

  He grabbed her up and held her tight—so tight that she felt the air r
ush from her lungs. She didn’t care.

  She loved this man. More than she ever had.

  Leaning down, he caught her mouth in a kiss that held a wealth of love and longing. “There’s only one thing I want to do right now.”

  She laughed. “Really? Can it wait until I’ve had something to eat?”

  “It could, but …” He withdrew and reached inside the jacket of his uniform, pulling out a small jeweler’s box.

  Her hands went over her mouth, afraid the sun and heat were still playing tricks on her. “Clint?”

  He snapped the box open to reveal a ring. Small and twinkling and perfect. “It was my grandmother’s. Mom gave it to me before I went into the service. She said I might need it one day. She was right.” He smiled. “I’d get down on one knee, but I’m afraid I’d be seared permanently to the pavement if I did. Damn, I’m screwing this all up. I should have waited to ask you to marry me until dinner, when we could have champagne, or until I had the ring resized—”

  “No. This is the perfect place. The perfect ring. And you’re the perfect man for me.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “And I accept your proposal, Colonel Clinton Marks.”

  He kissed her again. Then Jessi unhooked the chain from her necklace and let him slide the slender ring onto it, where it dangled in the hollow of her collarbone. Fingering it while heat waves danced over the black tar surface of the parking lot, she blinked. “Where’s your car?”

  “Someone offered me a lift.”

  She could guess who that might be. “Chelsea again?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’ve been standing in the parking lot for over an hour?”

  “Not quite. I had a little help tracking your movements.”

  Ahh … so that’s why Chelsea’s text—asking her to let her know the second she got off work—had been waiting for her when she’d switched her phone back on.

  She clicked the button to unlock her car. “I guess we should put her out of her misery, then.”

  “Already done. I told her if you weren’t home in an hour to assume we were out celebrating somewhere.”

  “Oh? You were that sure of yourself, were you?”

  He grinned. “You have no idea what I’ve been through over the past month. I wasn’t sure of anything, least of all myself.”