His Town

by Ellie Danes

  As I went to throw away the tea wrapper, I noticed the label. “Soothing blend of chamomile and herbs.” It sounded exactly what I needed—to be soothed and calm the hell down. So far, though, it hadn’t worked. The one thing I knew would work was hearing back from Ian. In the meantime, I needed to try to relax. Because once Claire woke up, there was going to be hell to pay for her cancelling that appointment.

  Chapter 7

  Ian

  My alarm sounded in my ear, and my heart jumped. I leapt a good four inches off the bed with a shout. The damn alarm had nearly given me a heart attack.

  I felt like I hadn’t even slept, like my clock and the sun were playing some sort of cruel fucking joke on me. It couldn’t already be time to get up. My mouth felt dry, and my throat was sore. I must have been sleeping with my mouth wide open.

  I pushed my covers off of me and stepped onto the heated floor, thankful that clouds were covering the sun just enough not to burn my eyes out. Without hesitating, and with a whole lot more energy than I thought I had, I walked over to my closet and grabbed a pair of black slacks and a plain white oxford.

  I didn’t have time to hesitate. I didn’t want to hesitate. I needed to get on with my routine. I didn’t want to have time to focus on how I felt. I wanted to use my boring morning routine to not think about yesterday, what I had learned, or how the hell I felt about it.

  I’d always thought I was pretty good at preoccupying myself in order to push my emotions aside. But Kate was, once again, proving to be an exception to that. My mind was only occupied with her, despite all of my attempts to distract myself.

  A call I’d missed from her still showed up on the status bar of my phone. She’d even texted me a couple of times. But I couldn’t bring myself to text her back. Not knowing what I knew. I still didn’t know what I was going to do about it, and, until I did, it seemed easiest to ignore her calls and texts.

  I know. It was a douchebag thing to do and I felt bad about ignoring her, especially because I was the one that asked if I could see her soon. Besides, she had no idea who I was or why I’d be upset. I doubted she knew the inner workings of MTS and BioResearch. And even if she did, was it really grounds to ignore her? She was innocent in all of it.

  Better to keep her unaware of our connection for now. Hell, for all she knew, everything was fine.

  I felt strange, almost depressed, as I showered, shaved and got dressed. We didn’t have a future, anyway. Not with her moving to California, and not with her father being Michael Murphy. So, I wasn’t sure why I cared. It shouldn’t be a problem to just tell her the truth and say au revoir, adios, sayonara, ciao, or just good riddance.

  But I couldn’t bring myself to make a decision either way.

  I walked out of the lobby before I’d even realized I’d left my apartment. The young valet smiled at me and nodded.

  “She’s all ready for you, sir!” he called as I walked toward him and pulled my money clip out of my overcoat’s breast pocket.

  “Park it, will you?” I asked. “I’m going to walk today.”

  I handed him a twenty. He smiled brightly and scurried off to the driver’s side of my car. Something told me that he didn’t even need the money to be happy when it came to parking my car. Something told me he got a lot of joy just being in a car like mine. I could relate to that.

  “Are you sure you want to walk in the cold, sir?” he called over his shoulder, before opening the door.

  “I’m sure,” I said. “Thanks anyway!”

  I needed the fresh air. I needed to clear my head. Plus, I really needed to get some extra cardio in.

  It wasn’t freezing — not as bad as usual, anyway. All I had to do was pull my coat closer and button it. I had a scarf and gloves, and I was as toasty as I needed to be.

  It was January, but for the first time in weeks it felt more like March. Chilly, but not so damn cold you couldn’t stand it. The sun was coming up over the sidewalk lined trees spreading an array of orange and pink hues through the sky. Pigeons cooed around me as my footsteps echoed from the sidewalk. I was amazed that I could even hear them over the sound of the cars on the street.

  My stress was finally easing off — if only for a few moments.

  I purposely avoided the Starbucks when I passed it.

  I didn’t even look at it. I wanted to. I’d even felt a magnetic force try to swipe at my head and draw me to it from across the street. I wasn’t sure what it was, if my intense longing for Starbucks coffee was that severe, if my body was just accustomed to stopping off before work, or if it was something else.

  Whatever it was, I knew I had to keep walking. I couldn’t give in to whatever the hell was trying to get me to run straight for it.

  Instead, I walked a couple of blocks and hit another coffee shop. It was a small, locally-owned place, quaint. Busy, just like Starbucks always was. Friendly workers. Less than friendly patrons. Seemed like my kind of place.

  And they made a damn fine cup of coffee.

  But still, there was something about my Starbucks—something even I couldn’t explain as I sipped on the fucking delicious mocha-whatever I had warming my hand for the rest of the walk to work. Who was I kidding? It was Kate. Kate was the difference. Starbucks and Kate went hand in hand, and I was lying to myself if I said otherwise.

  I downed the last sip of my coffee just as I hit the front doors of MTS. I was feeling a little better. At the very least, I felt confident enough to walk through the building without people thinking I was some sort of emotional mess.

  Coffee was my super power. I loved who I was when I had it in my system. I grabbed hold of the front door with a firm grip and tossed it open like I owned the place. I did own the place, after all.

  As soon as I crossed into my own domain, I felt a sense of calmness rush over me. I was a god here. I was the boss. I was in charge. It was the only place that I had control of literally everything, and there was something about this power that made me feel happy to be at work for the first time in a long time.

  I nodded to a few nameless faces as I straightened my appearance. I tidied my tie to perfection and smoothed my wool suit down. I even swiped a hand through my hair, to fix any imperfections the wind might have caused on my walk to work. No one would have known that I’d been worked up all morning. No one would have known that I was unfocused. As far as anyone else was concerned, I was a reflection of my father through and through.

  I was strong. I was unwavering, and I sure as hell didn’t have emotion on my sleeve.

  When I reached my office, I all but threw my briefcase down on my desk, shrugged my overcoat off, and tossed it over the back of my chair. I didn’t even bother hanging it up.

  My fingers grazed the brass buckle of my briefcase. It was still cold from being outside. I clicked it up and pulled the flap over and pulled at a brown envelope that I’d sworn I’d get to this week. It was a stack of papers—jotted notes and overall plans for some new x-ray imaging technology we were developing.

  I yanked them, as well as my laptop, free of the briefcase, tossed open the folder holding them and slowly started to read. I couldn’t help but wonder how many CEOs were as involved with the development process as my father had been, and as I was expected to be because of his example. Most just signed off on whatever the research and development team created and collected the benefits. After the whole fiasco with the lawsuit, though, I knew better. I wanted to know anything and everything we were developing, and I wanted to stay on top of the development process.

  Sometimes, I wished MTS were only worth measly thousands, rather than billions. Just enough to live comfortably. It would have been a lot easier on me, especially since meeting Kate. I’d been procrastinating a lot in the past week. Mostly, it was because I couldn’t get her off my mind. I wanted to see her, to talk to her, to hear her laugh. I felt like she was something special. Dammit. Why couldn’t I keep her out of my head?

  I turned my attention back to the report and hoped that I’d
be able to concentrate for a minute. “Focus,” I kept repeating as I jotted down notes and questions.

  I sighed heavily, flipping through the notes some more, glancing at the sketches. I had to get through it. The project couldn’t go further without my approval—I’d made sure of that. I had to get back with them, because they’d all been working really hard on this. I could tell, too, as I looked through the work they put into the proposal packet. They had spent a lot of time on this. Months.

  It was things like this that made me feel like the company was starting to speed back up again. We’d had a tough couple of quarters. Nothing bad, but nothing grand or extraordinary. We were still the frontrunner in the business, but I wanted more. I wanted the numbers to reflect what my father’s numbers used to be.

  I wanted to be so far on top that no one would ever catch us. And that was going to take focus. That was going to take some kicking ass and taking names.

  After two hours of looking over proposals and scribbling my own notes, my thoughts kept drifting to Kate and the fact that she was the daughter of Michael Murphy. My inattention didn’t have to do with her, I reasoned with myself. It had to do with my low blood sugar. I was hungry, and I’d hit a wall.

  I sighed and pushed myself away from my desk and stood. I needed a coffee break and a little something to eat to reboot.

  Buttoning the top button of my suit jacket, I walked out of my office. Another one of my dad’s office purchases was about to do me some good. Instead of sticking a coffee pot in the break room, like a normal person, he’d decided to install a cafe center in the building.

  I smiled to the few people I passed as I walked down the hall. But after a few more steps, I couldn’t help but grumble a little in frustration at the way everyone was looking at me as I passed. I mean, sure, I hardly ever came out of my office when I was at work. Janice brought me everything I needed. But they were acting like I was some sort of mystical unicorn or something.

  “Biggest cup of coffee you have,” I said to the young man at the counter.

  He grinned and I wondered why until the moment he handed me the oversized coffee cup.

  It was basically the size of a Big Gulp soda.

  I laughed out loud. “I like you,” I said with a smile, before grabbing a few creams and sugars then turning on my heel and heading back down the hall with my Big Gulp coffee.

  When I got to my office, I sat back at my desk. After taking a fortifying sip of my coffee, I got to work. Before I knew it, the pages of the proposal that had once lay haphazardly over my desk’s top, were now in one, neat, tidy pile. I flipped through the pages in disbelief, trying to figure out what else I needed to look at, only there wasn’t anything. Was I actually done looking over it?

  I stared, wide-eyed, at the notes I’d jotted on the proposal plan sketches. This was the first bit of work I’d been able to complete in a decent amount of time since meeting Kate.

  Trying to ignore thoughts of her, I stood up and walked over to the window. I leaned my head against it and looked down at the world below me. The glass was cold against my cheek but it felt good. I couldn’t help but admire the outside world. It looked so inviting from twenty stories up.

  Early lunch today, I decided. A reward for finishing that proposal. I made my way down the hall and into the elevator, out onto the first floor, and onto the sidewalk. It was like a wish being granted when I stepped out into the fresh, crisp, midday air.

  It felt colder than it’d been that morning. The wind blew my clothes against me as I walked down the sidewalk, and my overcoat whipped behind me. My thoughts returned to Kate. I felt almost like I was living a nightmare. The woman that seemed to have hold of me was the daughter of someone I despised.

  I didn’t even know where I was walking until I found myself smack dab in front of a black metal gate, in front of a few hills of trees with a sidewalk running down the middle. It was a park I’d gone to when I was younger. A place that help fond memories for me. A time when my dad actually took time to be my dad. We’d played catch here, and gone on evening strolls. We’d laughed here, and relaxed away from work.

  Placing a hand on the gate’s cold surface, I pushed it open. It creaked, and I stepped through. I strolled down the narrow paved path until I came across a young couple, standing up from the nearest park bench. I couldn’t help but watch them from the corner of my eye. They seemed so happy—their arms were linked, and their heads were together. Honestly, I felt like I shouldn’t be watching. Like the moment was too intimate for me to intrude on, but I was intrigued by it. I couldn’t look away.

  I felt a large lump in my throat when I heard the woman laugh. It sounded almost like Kate’s laugh, but it wasn’t nearly as beautiful.

  Kate had a wicked hold on me.

  I was only human. I’d have to understand that things bothered me, and that I had feelings. No matter how good I was at hiding those feelings, sometimes I did care.

  I wished I didn’t give a shit who she was or, hell, for that matter, I wished I didn’t care about her in general. Unfortunately, I did.

  Chapter 8

  Kate

  The book in my lap wasn’t holding my attention. It was supposed to be one of those popular teen books that got all the movies made about them, but I couldn’t seem to get into the story. But if I was honest, it wasn’t the book that was bothering me—it was my sister. Claire and I had been arguing on and off all day, and the tension was starting to get the better of me.

  Right now we were in one of those “off” times where no words were being spoken. She was in her room doing her own thing, and I was out in the living room, trying to clear my head by getting absorbed in a book.

  As soon as I heard her movements and the sound of her footsteps growing louder, I knew that “off” time was about to be very much “on.”

  Seconds later, she stepped into the living room. She wore a large, baggy, red and black flannel shirt and a pair of leggings. Her hair was uncombed and held up messily in a bun on top of her head, and she was running toward me, skidding over the hardwood floor of the hall in her blue fuzzy socks.

  “Kate!” she said with a grumpy tone as she quickly held her phone up and pushed it at my face.

  The phone had been the subject of one of our earlier arguments. After the whole “cancelling the therapy appointment” debacle, I’d taken her phone and put it into the kitchen drawer for safekeeping.

  Well, she decided to have a little bit too much gumption and take it out, thinking I wouldn’t notice.

  In the end, I’d let her have it on the condition that she cleaned that disgusting room of hers.

  It wasn’t as clean as I’d wanted it to be, but it was a start. So, I’d let her have the damn thing. Never in my wildest dreams did I think a few hours later it’d be shoved directly in my face.

  I put my book against my chest and looked up at her, trying to keep my cool.

  She pushed it almost up to my nose. “You got your disgusting, grubby finger prints all over my screen!”

  I rolled my eyes, gently pushed the phone away from me, and went back to my book. I wasn’t about to give in to her ridiculous outburst.

  She growled. I wasn’t sure if she were mad that I didn’t care enough to respond, or if she was genuinely mad that I’d put a few fingerprints on her screen. Regardless, I didn’t care.

  In my peripheral vision, she pulled out a small leather sleeve from her shirt pocket. Despite my best judgment, I looked up and studied her for a minute. In fact, I really couldn’t help but watch her almost anxiously, wondering what she was doing.

  “Chill,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just a cloth to clean my damn phone.”

  She opened the sleeve and carefully pulled out a small grey cloth. She slowly unfolded it and huffed in frustration.

  She wiped in small, deliberate circles at first until she gave another huge sigh. I watched—eyes wide—as she began meticulously scrubbing her phone’s screen. Her swipes were growing in fervor by the second.


  “Stop watching me,” she grumbled, not looking up.

  “I’ve never seen someone so compulsive about their phone before,” I said. “It’s a little intriguing.”

  “What?” she snapped, as she scrubbed and scrubbed at her phone. “You don’t like that I care about my stuff?”

  “You’re worried about a few smudges on your screen?” I couldn’t help but laugh some more. “Your room looks like the Loch Ness Monster threw up in it, and you’re worried about finger prints on a cell phone.”

  “You aren’t respecting my things,” she said.

  “Are you shitting me?” I clenched my jaw tightly and balled my fists. I didn’t know why the comment made me so angry, but it did. I wasn’t sure if it was because I couldn’t believe she had the gall to say something so stupid, or if it was just a mix of everything that’d already happened over the last couple days. If anyone was being disrespectful of someone else in any way, it was her.

  I knew I was shooting a death glare right for her as soon as she said that to me. “Sit the hell down and calm yourself,” I said in a low, but serious, tone.

  She was so tense that I was a little terrified. I wasn’t terrified of her—I knew she’d never hurt me. She could hiss, shoot death glare after death glare, or push me away. She could even tear at my skin, claw at me, pull on my hair — she could do it all — but I wasn’t scared of her.

  I was terrified for her mental state. We still hadn’t gotten to see the therapist, which bothered me because it was in direct violation of her doctor’s orders and hospital requirements. I was supposed to get her to a damn therapist.

  Dr. Furhman had recommended a few emergency-case colleagues of his that could take us if it was bad enough. But he hoped that it wouldn’t get to that point. So did I. She already had trust established with Dr. Furhman. Sending her to talk to someone new wouldn’t be productive, and the risk was that it would be counterproductive.

  She sat down on the couch, looking at me with unease. I wasn’t sure if she was sorry for the way she was acting, or confused as to why I was pissed off. But whatever it was, I smiled at her. I couldn’t help myself.