That motherfucker. He’d bought those cookies just to show me up. I wanted to get up and storm over to his table. That grin of his would be gone before I even got there.
“More shots?” Hattie asked, probably trying to break the uncomfortable silence at our table.
Joss and I didn’t even look at each other as the auctioneer sold a spa trip and an Apple watch. Then he got to the Hawaii trip, and I felt Joss tense beside me.
Surely she wasn’t planning to bid on it.
She didn’t, but Dean did. He went back and forth with some other doctor on the bidding until he’d paid seven grand for it. And the look he gave me afterward wasn’t smug, but sure.
He was planning on taking Joss to Hawaii. Un-fucking-believable.
“Do you want to go?” Joss asked softly.
When I turned to her, she looked almost sick. I should have felt terrible about it. I should have kissed her, gotten her another glass of wine, and let her know everything was good between us.
I couldn’t, though. I’d just been emasculated by her dickhead ex-husband. I was too pissed off to think about anything but how much I hated that asshole.
I nodded, and we both got up to go. This time, she didn’t put her arm in mine or look up at me with that million-dollar smile.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked at anything but me as we walked out of the ballroom and out to my truck.
She didn’t care that Dean had bought the cookies and the trip to Hawaii, and she didn’t want to go with him. I knew that. Hell, he knew it, too.
I cared, though. Dean had just reminded me, her, and everyone else in that room that there were things he could do for Joss that I’d never be able to.
I drove Joss home in silence, watching from the driver’s seat to make sure she got in her place okay, and then I left. I hated the heavy tension between us and the hurt in her eyes when she looked back at me before stepping inside, but there was nothing I could do to fix it.
Nightmares or no, I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.
Chapter Sixteen
Joss
I flopped onto a chair in the doctor’s lounge, my expression daring Hattie to make a comment as I took a giant bite out of the Snickers bar that was my dinner.
“You’re a ray of sunshine tonight, Joss,” she said, quirking her brows in amusement.
“Don’t even. This is the first time I’ve sat down since I started my shift.”
“Me too, girl.”
I sighed, forcing my glare away. It wasn’t Hattie’s fault. She was having a shitty night, too. Not quite as bad as mine, but still.
“What’s the word on the twenty-eight weeker?” she asked me, opening the lid on the salad she’d brought to work.
“I haven’t heard anything since I checked half an hour ago. He was still stable then.”
Earlier tonight, I’d delivered a baby who wasn’t due for nearly three more months. My patient had sobbed through the delivery, begging me to stop it. I’d tried, but she’d progressed so much before even arriving that there was nothing I could do. The room had been silent when the tiny boy had been born a scary shade of blue.
One of our pediatricians had gone right to work on him, and when he’d started breathing, his parents had both cried with relief. I nearly had, too.
He had a long road ahead of him, but he was alive. They’d named him Rocky, because they said they knew he was a fighter. Between that tense delivery and an unusually busy night of other patients, I was exhausted. My current laboring mom was moving along steadily, but I felt safe taking a quick break since I was near her room.
“Still on the outs with Carson?” Hattie asked.
“Yeah. We’ve texted, but things still aren’t right.”
“What’s his deal? Why doesn’t he get that you have no interest in Dean?”
“I wish I knew.” I took another bite of the candy bar as I took out my phone.
“Did you tell him Dean’s got a small dick?”
I gave her an exasperated look. She arched her brows in challenge.
“What? I think it would make him feel more secure to know that. Knowing their dick is bigger than someone else’s makes men feel better every time. ”
I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. It was pretty much impossible to be aggravated with Hattie.
I looked at my phone screen, hoping for a text from Carson.
Nothing. With a heavy sigh, I looked at the door to the lounge.
“I’ll cover you,” Hattie offered.
She knew I wanted to go find Carson. But damned if I was going to chase after him. He was the one being a stubborn ass; he needed to come find me.
“Nah. I need to stay on the floor. Thanks, though.”
I finished my candy bar, drank some water, and got up to go back to work. Breaks just gave me too much time to think about Carson. And every time I thought about him, I ended up frustrated and moody.
Why did it suddenly matter that Dean made more money than Carson? I didn’t want Dean. I’d been drawn to Carson because he was confident and secure, and I’d never expected him to get worked up over something that didn’t matter.
He hadn’t told me that was what he was pissed about, but I knew. He’d wanted to have a pissing match with my ex-husband. I wished we hadn’t even gone to that stupid fundraiser.
I walked out to the main desk area of our floor, and a nurse nodded toward the end of the counter.
“Delivery for you, Dr. Drake,” she said.
I walked down to see what it was, and my stomach dropped as I drew closer. It was the platter of cookies Dean had bought at the fundraiser. Sitting next to it was a bright yellow drink in a fancy glass, a slice of fresh pineapple on the rim.
As I picked up the envelope next to the glass, I glared at the cookies. There was a folded, plain white card inside the envelope. I took it out and scanned the handwritten message.
I’ll do anything for a second chance. Come to Hawaii with me, and you’ll see.
Dean
I pressed my lips into a thin line, my blood heating with anger.
Where did he get off asking me for a second chance? Where did he get off asking me for anything at all? He’d turned his back on our marriage and humiliated me in front of the entire hospital. Amanda was pregnant with his child.
It was way too little, way too late. I crumbled up the note and tossed it into a trash can, then moved the cookies and drink to the break room.
Hattie met my eyes as I walked in and set the tray down on a table with more force than necessary.
“No, he didn’t,” she said in a low tone. “That bastard.”
“He did. I wouldn’t eat these cookies if I was starving.” My tone was laced with bitter anger. “But I thought everyone else might like them.”
“What’s with the drink?”
I leveled a glare at her, and she inhaled sharply. “Oh hell no. He wants you to—”
“He can want all he wants; it’s not happening.”
“Does Amanda know?”
I shrugged and sighed deeply. “I don’t know. But I feel like somehow I’m gonna end up the bad guy in this scenario, and I haven’t done a damn thing wrong.”
Hattie gave me a sympathetic look. “Girl, you need to make up with your man. This is the kind of thing you need him by your side for.”
I ran a hand over my ponytail, my stomach churning nervously. “He’d flip his shit if I told him about this right now.”
Hattie frowned. “If that’s true, Joss, maybe he’s not the man for you.”
My heart dropped. I didn’t even want to think about that. Carson and I had been going so strong since the night we met. He was everything I’d never even dared to want. He made me feel beautiful and strong. Most importantly, with him I felt like enough, for the first time ever.
“He’s being a stubborn jackass,” I grumbled.
Hattie stood up and gave me a knowing look. “You guys have to talk, Joss. Brooding never solve
d anything.”
“Tell him that. He’s the one who’s brooding.”
“He’s not the only one.” She arched a brow, held my gaze for a second, and then left the room.
I looked at the door she’d walked through, considering.
Was I brooding? I only had to think about it for a second to know she was right—I was. When things had started to get tense with Dean and me, we’d both retreated to our own corners and stayed there. I’d kept my head in the sand.
I wasn’t making that mistake again. Carson and I were either going to make it or we weren’t, but we didn’t even have a chance if we couldn’t talk things out when we hit bumps in the road.
When my shift was over, I would find him. I just hoped he was willing to be reasonable, because I wasn’t going to apologize for what Dean had done. His behavior belonged entirely to him. It had taken me too long to understand that before, and I wasn’t going backward.
The night only got busier, and I ended up working overtime. I’d heard lots of muttered comments about a full moon from my coworkers as we all scrambled to keep up with the influx of laboring patients. I was huddled over my tablet, finishing up a chart, when a nurse just starting her shift called my name.
“Hmm?” I mumbled, not looking up from my chart.
“Delivery for you,” she said, and I heard a slight “thunk” sound as she set something down on the counter next to me.
I glanced up, doing a double take when I saw the vase of two dozen pink roses in assorted shades. My stomach fluttered with happiness as I reached for the card. I’d been too hard on Carson. We loved each other. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and tell him how sorry I was.
The sweet scent of the roses filled the air as I plucked the card from its envelope and read it. My stomach dropped as I scanned the words.
I’m serious about getting you back. I love you.—Dean
“What?” I scowled at the card.
Not only weren’t the flowers from Carson, they were from Dean? This shit was getting out of hand.
Fatigue from my long night hit me all at once. I needed some sleep. I’d be able to think things through better after that. With a heavy sigh, I returned to my last chart, forcing myself to focus on it. I was writing the final sentence when a deep voice behind me made my pulse quicken.
“Hey.”
It was Carson.
Shit. I turned around, my eyes wide and my heart hammering.
“Hey,” I said, smiling nervously.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to—” He stopped and furrowed his brow. “What’s with the flowers?”
I glanced over, feigning surprise. “Oh, they’re Hattie’s. You know her, always with a suitor.”
“Yeah.” He gave me a half smile as he took a step closer to me. “Hey, are you off soon?”
I nodded. “I’ll be done within thirty seconds.”
“Can we go get some breakfast, maybe?”
I could feel his apology. It was in the tone of his voice, in the softness of his dark brown eyes. And I was sorry, too. My shoulders slumped with the weight of it.
I needed things to be right between us again. We’d both been stubborn and unreasonable, for no good reason. Anything that kept us apart for even a day wasn’t worth it to me. I knew Carson’s heart, and I couldn’t blame him for his pride being wounded.
“I’d love to get breakfast.” I smiled at him, warming from head to toe as he smiled back.
We still needed to talk it out, but everything was going to be okay. I wasn’t as tired anymore. All I wanted was to be with Carson for the morning and to fall asleep next to him.
“Hey, good call on the flowers, lover boy,” Hattie said, winking at Carson and pointing at the vase on the counter as she sailed past us.
My breath caught in my throat as Carson’s expression changed.
“What the hell does that mean?”
I closed my eyes. Of all the truly horrible luck—she’d had to walk by at that exact moment, and she’d had to comment on the flowers.
Meeting Carson’s gaze, I sighed heavily. “Dean sent me the flowers. But I don’t want them, and I don’t want him.”
He narrowed his eyes and took a step back. “You . . . lied to me.” He stumbled over the word, like he couldn’t believe it.
I couldn’t believe it, either. I loved him completely, and I’d lied just to avoid another confrontation.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t want you to blow up over it and think there was something between us.”
“So you lied.” His tone was bitter and hard. “And now I can’t trust anything you say when it comes to him.”
I stepped closer to him. “It was a tiny lie, and I’m sorry.”
“I never would’ve even known if Hattie hadn’t walked by.”
“And it never would have mattered.” I reached for his hand, and he took another step back, avoiding my touch. “He also sent me the cookies from the auction and asked me to go to Hawaii with him. It’s a no for me, babe. Everything about him is a no for me. I love you.”
He shook his head. “You don’t lie to people you love.”
“Can you just try—”
Carson shook his head again and turned, putting a hand up as a sign for me to stop talking and not follow him. I felt the prying eyes and ears of my coworkers, so I just stood there and watched him go.
I hated that I’d lied. I hated the hurt I’d seen in his eyes. And I hated that I didn’t know how to make it better.
I turned to look at the flowers, all pink and innocent in their tall glass vase.
Stupid fucking flowers.
I swiped the vase from the counter and walked it over to a tall trash can, dropping it in. Then I went to the tray of cookies on the table and grabbed it, shoving it in the can hard enough to bend the paper platter and make it fit.
“I wanted those cookies,” a male voice muttered from behind the counter.
I turned to glare at whoever had said it. Everyone was pretending to be deeply focused on something.
There was nothing I disliked more than drama at work, but somehow I’d become the poster child for it during the Dean and Amanda affair. And after trying desperately to lay low and recover, I’d just made a spectacle of myself, fighting with my boyfriend in front of the entire floor and angrily dumping flowers and cookies into the trash.
There was no blaming Dean or Amanda this time, though. I’d done this to myself. And now Carson and I were in danger of never working things out.
Chapter Seventeen
Carson
The counselor’s office was a lot smaller than I’d expected. I was sitting on a loveseat, and the counselor was across from me in an armchair, only a few feet separating us.
“We’re making do with less space while some of our offices are being remodeled,” he said, seeming to read my thoughts as I scanned the room.
“So you didn’t paint your office light purple?” I arched my brows as I glanced at the walls.
He laughed and shook his head. “No. Definitely not. This is just a temporary office. If we were in my office, you’d be able to see my collection of beer steins.”
I nodded my appreciation.
“I was stationed in Germany for a couple of years,” he explained.
“Nice.”
“I did time in the desert, too.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. Why did it fill me with dread that he was a veteran who had served in active combat? When I’d called the counseling center for an appointment, they’d interviewed me over the phone and automatically assigned me to the guy who worked with vets.
“No offense, Gary,” I said, looking up at him, “but I don’t feel a camaraderie or anything. I appreciate that you served, and I know you get it in a lot of ways, you know, what it’s like over there. And I think it’s great that you work with guys who have PTSD after being in that shitstorm.”
“Women too.”
I nodded. “Of course, women to
o. Sorry. There were all guys in my unit, so I just always say that.”
“I don’t know what your experience was like.” Gary crosses a foot over his knee. “And I’m not here to tell you about mine. I’m just here to listen.”
“Why does everyone assume all vets have PTSD?” I looked down at the worn gray carpet at my feet. “Just because I’m a vet, I get assigned to the PTSD guy.”
“I’m not assuming that. And you’re not the only veteran who resents that assumption.”
I shook my head. “Like I said, it was a shitstorm. We all knew that going in. But I went back when I didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have done that if it was fucking my head up. And I came back both times, which makes me a hell of a lot luckier than others.”
“Do you feel like the same man who went over there? Did your experiences stay with you in any way?”
I sighed heavily as I sat up. “No, I’m not the same man who went over there. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about . . . well, lots of things.”
Gary said nothing, and the silence hung until I looked at him. He was maybe fifty years old, with short gray hair and a clean-shaven face. I saw the former soldier in him.
“What brought you here, Carson?” he asked.
There was something about his tone that put me slightly at ease. Maybe it was that he sounded genuinely interested. Or maybe it was his soft tone, which told me there was no wrong answer to this question.
After a few seconds of silence, I spoke. “I’m fucking up my relationship with my girlfriend.”
Gary just nodded.
“Is it okay if I say fuck in here?”
A smile tugged on the corners of his lips. “You can say anything you want in here, as long as you don’t talk shit about my New York Yankees.”
I rubbed my sweaty palms across my thighs, sighing again. “I’m not great at talking about things. Especially feelings and shit.”
“You’re doing fine so far. Why don’t you tell me more about your girlfriend?”
“Her name’s Joss.” My shoulders relaxed as I pictured her. “She’s . . . everything. Beautiful, smart, funny. Joss is way too good for me, but for some reason, she wants to be with me.”
Healing Touch Page 11
