Nobody But You: A Single Dad Romance

by Megan Green

  “Who’s calling, please?” she asks when she doesn’t recognize my number.

  “Mason Cooper.”

  “Please hold,” she clips, placing me on hold before I can consent.

  An instrumental version of “Señorita” by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello—a song my four-year-old daughter is entirely too obsessed with—plays in my ear while I wait.

  A few minutes pass, and I glance at the clock on our dining room wall, watching the seconds tick past and wondering if Maddy plans to leave me on hold until I give in and hang up. But after another half a rotation around the clock, the line finally clicks over.

  “Maddy?”

  A voice clears on the other side of the call. “No, I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper,” the receptionist starts. “Dr. Woods is, um … with a patient. She asked me to tell you that we’re still running a few tests and that we’ll call you once we have a more definitive answer.”

  In short, Maddy refused to speak with me and left her receptionist to come up with a story as to why.

  I can’t really say I blame her. I mean, after all these years, in all the different scenarios I ever pictured of running back into Madeline Woods again, never once did I envision that stupid-ass nickname escaping my lips.

  Maddy Woods was an unexpected development my senior year of high school. We’d gone to school together for as long as I could remember, and to be honest, I’d never given her more than a passing thought until my Geometry teacher, Mr. Williams, recommended I reach out to her if I wanted to keep my spot on the baseball team. I needed a tutor, but what I got was a friend. A friend who liked and accepted me for exactly who I was, flaws and all. A friend who didn’t care that I had a damn good arm and had led our team to the state championship as a sophomore and junior and was well on my way to making it a three-peat if I could just get my Geometry grade up. No, Maddy didn’t care about any of that. She laughed when I made stupid jokes, shared my love of horrible ’80s hair bands, and agreed that Doug was the most underappreciated cartoon of our youth.

  I never laughed as much as I did when I was with Maddy. Never felt more at ease or more like myself than during the time we spent together. She was my best friend.

  Until one day, she wasn’t.

  I remember that day vividly, the empty table in the library where we always met after school. The way her phone went straight to voice mail each of the dozen times I called her that evening. The way her mother told me Maddy had the flu when I showed up on her doorstep, her face a picture of sadness and remorse as she looked at me.

  Maddy didn’t come back to school after that. When I asked her teachers, they told me she already had enough credits to graduate and that she had elected to receive her diploma early instead of waiting and walking with the rest of us at graduation.

  Two months later, the day after her eighteenth birthday, she packed up her things and left. Not a single word to anyone about where she was going or when she was coming back.

  I thought about coming face-to-face with Maddy Woods at least a hundred times over the years. I thought about all the ways I would demand answers, demand to know why. How could she just up and leave me like that? And even through the anger and sadness, I thought about how joyous it would be to see her. How, even though she’d hurt me, I’d pull her into my arms and wrap her in the tightest hug humanly possible because it’d just be so good to see her.

  I gave up all hope on ever seeing her again long ago though. Last I heard, she’d moved to New York, and she was engaged to some Wall Street guy who probably owned a Bentley he never drove, ate only organic and overpriced food, and used words like ergo and methinks. All that pretentious bullshit the Maddy I used to know would’ve hated, but apparently, that was what the new Maddy had fallen in love with.

  So, I definitely wasn’t expecting to run into her back here, in Harts Creek, at the animal hospital of all places. Though I suppose, now that I think about it, it makes sense. Maddy always said she wanted to be a vet, and I spent hours down there at the clinic while she worked and volunteered. If she was going to return here at all, it would be because of that place.

  A brief sense of pride flashes through me when I realize she’s gotten exactly what she wanted. She’s a veterinarian, the thing she always worked so hard for. We had many long conversations back in the day about our hopes and dreams for the future. Mine was always being a firefighter, much to the chagrin of my peers and coach. There was talk of playing college ball and maybe even going pro eventually. But I’d never been interested. I loved playing baseball, but that was all it ever was to me. A hobby. A good time to be had with my friends. It wasn’t something I wanted, not in the way I wanted to be a firefighter.

  Maddy loved animals. And when I say loved, I mean L-O-V-E-D animals. It went above and beyond the fondness most people have for their pets. That girl would give up her weekends to help out at the clinic, staying as late as she possibly could and showing up before they opened the next morning. There were days I literally had to drag her out of the door because she didn’t want to leave an injured dog’s or a sick cat’s side.

  So, yeah, it makes me happy, knowing she has everything she ever wanted. Even if she got it without me in her life.

  I thank the receptionist for her time and hang up the phone, my eyes dropping to Hannah as her face falls. “Sorry, Nana. They don’t have an update yet.”

  “But, Daddy! How long are they going to keep her there? She’s probably so scared.”

  I take a seat in the chair next to her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before running my hand over her long blonde hair. It hangs almost to her waist now, and every single day, she starts to look more and more like her mother—a fact that’s both beautiful and heartbreaking for me.

  “I know, baby girl. But we have to let them help her get better. Trust me, she’s in the best place she can possibly be. They’re taking good care of her.”

  Hannah slowly nods her head as her lower lip pouts out, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

  My heart breaks a little, seeing her so upset, and I say the first thing that pops in my head, “What do you say we go get dressed and head into town? You can help me run a few errands, and then we’ll stop and get ice cream.”

  Her eyes brighten at the last two words. “Can I have sprinkles? And whipped cream?”

  I nod. “Extra sprinkles. And maybe if you’re good, a cherry on top.”

  An easy smile spreads across her lips. “Okay, Daddy.”

  I gave birth to the devil herself.

  Okay, so maybe I didn’t actually give birth to her. But I had a hand in the process, and somewhere along the way, my sweet, innocent baby girl was replaced by a silver-tongued demon who knows exactly what buttons to push to get what she wants.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, I think for the tenth time since pulling into the parking lot.

  I hold open the door as Hannah dashes inside, my eyes darting around, both hoping and not to see Maddy.

  I should’ve known when Hannah suggested we skip ice cream and just go home that something was up. I didn’t realize until we got here that the way home from the part of town we’d been in took us right freaking past the damn animal hospital. Hannah had taken one look at that sign and refused to stop crying until I agreed to pull over and go in.

  Father of the Year right here, folks.

  Hannah runs up to the counter, standing up on her tiptoes and pulling herself up to see over the top. The receptionist gives her a warm smile.

  “Well, hello there, sweetie. What can I do for you?”

  “Can I please see my dog?”

  I shake my head, bringing my hand up to rub my brow. “Hannah, she’s not—”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The angry voice stops me in my tracks, my eyes swinging from Hannah’s back over to where Maddy stands. The navy dress she’s wearing is barely visible beneath her white coat, a pair of nude heels on her feet. Her brown locks are twisted up into a bun at the nape of her neck, an
d her subtle makeup highlights all the best parts of her features. She’s the very picture of professionalism. Other than the daggers she’s currently glaring at me.

  Fire looks good on her, I think, noting the way her cheeks flush a light pink.

  And her eyes might be angry, but those dark pools glint under the overhead light, the heat only adding to their luminous beauty.

  She looks sexy as fuck.

  The thought stops me short, my stomach dropping as the depth of that statement sinks in.

  This is Madeline Woods I’m talking about here. Maddy. My Maddy. The girl who knows me better than anyone. Or knew rather. The girl who disappeared without a trace. And certainly not the girl I’d ever thought the words sexy and fuck about in the same sentence.

  But then, is it really? Sure, she looks like my Maddy. Sort of. A slimmed down, more confident version of my Maddy maybe. But on the inside, I know nothing about this person before me. She’s a stranger. A vague resemblance to the girl I used to know.

  No, this isn’t my Maddy. She hasn’t been my Maddy for a long, long time. And I need to remember that. Things will never go back to the way they were between us. And even if they could, I have Hannah to think about now.

  Maddy ran away once. There’s no saying she won’t do it again.

  Whatever we had in the past is exactly that. In the past.

  The sooner I get that through my head, the better it’ll be for all three of us.

  “Hello, Dr. Woods,” I say, trying to give her what I hope is a friendly but befitting smile. The sort of smile you use to greet your dentist or the mailman. Definitely not a smile you give your long-lost best friend. “I’m sorry, but Hannah insisted we stop by to check on the dog we’d brought in last night. She just wants to hear she’s okay, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  Maddy’s gaze moves from me to Hannah and then back again. I can see the wheels turning in her head as she ponders her next words. But when she gives Hannah a final look, I see the last bit of resolve melt away from her steely gaze.

  She nods as she turns on her heel, gesturing to us over her shoulder. “Follow me.”

  6

  Maddy

  Ugh, what are you doing? I berate myself as I walk toward an exam room, Mason and his daughter in tow. Tell. Him. To. Leave, I chide as I gesture toward the two chairs, letting them know they should sit before taking a seat myself on the stool across from them.

  But with one more look at that adorable little girl, I know there’s not a chance in hell of that happening. She stares up at me with her big, beautiful eyes, and I all but melt into a pile of goo at her feet.

  Damn this dazzling child and her puppy-dog eyes. If it wasn’t for her, I’d be able to tell Mason Cooper to take his request for an update and shove it up his ass.

  And the fact that her eyes look exactly the same as you remember his has nothing to do with it, right?

  I cringe internally with that thought. Because it’s true. Her eyes have that same frankness, that same unadulterated innocence Mason always had. I could always read Mason like a book, his eyes giving away whatever he was feeling, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It was one of the things I loved most about him.

  I shake off the thought, lifting my gaze to the man before me. Gone is that wonder, the curiosity, and the purity I always knew. Now, his eyes are serious. Untrusting. Hardened by years and the experiences of life.

  The Mason I thought I knew is nowhere to be found, in his place a grown man who only remembers the overweight teen from his past.

  Don’t let him get to you, I tell myself. Don’t let him get inside your head. You’re not the same person you were back then. You can be professional about this. Tell them about the dog, and they’ll be on their way.

  “How is she?” the little girl asks, bringing me right back to the room and the reason they’re here.

  I decide to focus on her. She might remind me of the Mason I used to know, but at least I liked him.

  I smile down at her. “She’s hanging in there. She was pretty anemic when you guys brought her in, but we gave her some blood, and she seems to be doing better.”

  The little girl’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What’s anemic?”

  I can’t help but smile. Most kids her age probably wouldn’t even be able to pronounce the word, let alone bother asking what it means.

  “It means, she had really low iron in her blood. Iron is a mineral your body needs to help make red blood cells and carry oxygen. Without it, you can get very weak and sick. The dog you found wasn’t getting enough oxygen in her blood, and that’s what made her collapse.”

  “Oxygen? Like air?” she asks, still confused.

  “Sort of. Your body processes the oxygen in the air. And your blood cells help carry that oxygen to the rest of your body so that you can be strong.”

  The little line between her brow deepens as she ponders my words, her brain no doubt working on overdrive to process all this information.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I ask, reaching out to rub my thumb on her upper arm. This seems to break her concentration on trying to make sense of molecules and the process of oxidizing the body.

  “Hannah.”

  “That’s a pretty name,” I say with a smile. “How old are you, Hannah?”

  “Four,” she answers.

  “You’re pretty smart for a four-year-old, you know that?”

  She grins up at me briefly before beaming over at her father. Which only serves to remind me that he’s still in the room.

  Like I could forget.

  I know I have to turn and face him, that my time of pretending it’s just me and this sweet little girl—Hannah—is over. I need to explain what’s going on, and it’s entirely too much for a four-year-old to comprehend.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I do exactly that. Mason at least has the decency to look embarrassed by our last encounter, his eyes flicking down to the floor when mine shift over to him.

  “So, the dog—”

  “Can I see her?” Hannah interrupts. “I want her to know I haven’t forgotten about her.” She pulls her lower lip in between her teeth, worrying the rosy flesh, her eyes round and pleading.

  Oh my God, this child. Could she be any more lovable?

  I nod as I stand, my hands smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress as I get to my feet. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  A breath of relief escapes my lips as I step out of the claustrophobic room. I need to get my shit together. He’s just a man. Just. A. Man.

  I slowly walk over to where Cami sits, processing some lab results for another one of our animals. The dog Mason and Hannah brought in rests in a kennel to her right. Neither of us feels comfortable with leaving her on her own for longer than a few minutes.

  “How’s she doing now?” I ask, stepping up to the kennel and inserting a finger through the metal cage on the front.

  The dog slightly lifts her head, giving me a halfhearted sniff before slumping back down to the pillow.

  “Same,” Cami responds, setting down the vial she was handling and turning to look at the dog. “She’s still super lethargic. Her counts aren’t up as much as we hoped. I think she’s going to need another transfusion.”

  Which is exactly the thing I didn’t want to hear. Transfusions are expensive, and I’ve already eaten the cost of one, seeing as how I had no way of finding her previous owners. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she needs another.

  I wish I were in the position that I didn’t have to worry about coming up with an extra thousand dollars, but unfortunately, this is my reality.

  I open the kennel and scratch her on the head. “You poor sweetheart. You want to go see your friends?”

  Cami lifts her brow at me in question, and I shrug.

  “The people who brought her in last night are here, wanting an update. I told the little girl she could see her.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea? She’s looking even worse than last
night. It might upset her.”

  Sadness washes over me when I realize how true her words are. It’s only been a little over twelve hours, but the dog has already declined so much. “Well, if there’s nothing we can do for her, she might as well spend her last few hours being loved and doted on.”

  Cami clears her throat, my words striking a chord in her heart. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”

  “Neither am I,” I say, gently lifting the dog from the kennel and cradling her against my chest. “But we have to be realistic. If we can’t get her counts up soon, we could lose her.”

  Cami swallows hard as she nods, watching as I take the dog and head back to the exam room.

  Hannah leaps to her feet as soon as the door opens, rushing over to my side as I set the dog down on the exam table. I take a step back, letting her move in close.

  “Hi, puppy,” she says, her voice soft and soothing as she starts petting the dog’s head. “Do you remember me?”

  The dog inches her muzzle closer to Hannah, and soon, the two are nose-to-nose, eyes locked on each other as though they are the only two in the room. Hot tears prick the corners of my eyes, a large knot forming in my throat as I try to bite them back.

  Maybe Cami was right. Maybe I’ve made a mistake in letting Hannah see the dog. It’s going to crush her if I can’t save her.

  I’m so fixated on the two of them in front of me that I don’t even notice Mason moving until he’s beside me.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with her yet?”

  I startle, blinking rapidly to rid myself of the wetness developing in my eyes. After coughing to ensure no lingering sadness sits in my throat, I turn to him. “Not for sure. But I suspect it’s a disease called Immune-Mediated Hemolytic Anemia—IMHA for short.”

  Mason’s brow furrows. “And what is that?”

  “Basically, her immune system is attacking her healthy red blood cells, killing them off faster than her body can produce them.”