by Emily Childs
I tap the end of my pen on the cherry wood desk. My office at the clinic is small, and exactly as I left it a month ago. Strange how perspectives change in such a short time. The day I filed my folders for Greta to handle in my absence, I painfully dreaded meeting the jerk who’d pressed charges against me.
Now my heart was empty without him.
I glance at my phone, as if my dreary thoughts of him might urge him to say something. Anything. I haven’t heard from him in over a week. I ache for Zac, but want to scream at him, too. Was love so weak to him? He confesses he loves me, then . . . nothing.
I shake my head and sign off my computer after I hurry and fill a prescription. I can’t waste away with thoughts of what might’ve been with Zac Dawson. I’ll focus on my new plan, my new direction, but even that feels empty. According to Emmitt, the new clinic won’t be up and running for six months. A detail he conveniently left out. Doctor Reswell had been on the hunt for investors since the beginning of the year, and both he and Emmitt pass emails with me in the loop like destiny brought us together.
Then why have I woken up sick to my stomach every day since I left Honeyville?
Adding to my already awful day, I leave the office right when Greta strolls past. We lock eyes, her mouth parts, a cherry flush heats her cheeks. “Oh, uh, Josephine, can we talk?”
“Nope, I’m going to lunch.”
Greta sighs. “Come on, let’s talk about the elephant in the room.”
A few nurses pretend to find important duties that fall near the upcoming confrontation. Fine, I’ll talk if Greta wants to talk. I straighten my shoulders and fold my arms over my chest. “What do you want me to say, Greta? I broke up with Emmitt and twenty-four hours later you’re together. Elephant acknowledged. Now, may I go eat?”
“I’m sorry for what happened. We aren’t really even dating consistently, you know. But I still feel like I betrayed a colleague.”
“You didn’t. He was free game, but I’d really think hard on dating a man who can switch lanes so quickly.”
“Josephine, you have some ownership in that. Emmitt wasn’t happy. You tried to change too much. Honestly, you don’t know how good you had it. I don’t think you ever appreciated what a great guy he is, and you took him for granted.”
A few of the nurses gasped and pretended to be busy. My chest tightened, but not because of what she said about Emmitt. But for how right she is. I did lose a great guy. She’s just never met him. “Are you done, Greta?”
Greta tosses her hands over her head. “I don’t get you. After all those years, you’re hardly upset, but then you give me the cold shoulder.” She takes a step closer and lowers her voice. “You don’t deserve Emmitt, Josephine.”
I laugh. Honestly, I think I’ve lost it, or as Zac would say—I’m flying off the handle. I shake my head and wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “Oh, Greta. I deserved Emmitt, but you know, the more I think about it, he didn’t deserve me. You have a great day. Oh, and don’t forget to bring back those patient files from when I was gone. I need to check and make sure all the notes are solid. Thanks.”
A few nurses snicker as I leave, and I feel a little powerful. Unprofessional, no doubt, but powerful.
But when I get back from lunch, my day keeps its downward spiral. Emmitt is in my office.
He winks when I come inside, like I should be tantalized by his good looks. I want a beard. I want consistent kindness and ignorance to how wonderful he is. I want Zac. Emmitt is arrogant and thinks that he still has me in the palm of his hand.
“So I heard about the standoff,” he said. “Did you and Greta really need to do that in office?”
“No, but when she corners me in the hall, I’m going to stand up for myself. She’s your fling, why don’t you talk to her about office etiquette?”
“Come on, Jo. Let’s not go there right now.”
“Okay, we’ll wait until you’re ready, right? Or are we going to just shove the hard stuff under the rug like always?”
Emmitt’s smile fades. “We can talk, just not at work.” He shuffles in the doorway for a moment before holding out a few stapled packets. “Here are those papers I told you about.”
“Explain what they are again, and why it needs my signature.”
“This is your partnership agreement and a few bank statements for the account.” He smiles and sets the folder on my desk. “Are you excited?”
I shrug. “I would feel better about it if Reswell talked to me before I sign anything.”
“I told you, there are time constraints, and he’s at a conference in California.”
“So, it’s called a phone.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll all meet when he gets back.”
I scan the paperwork. I’m smart enough but understand few things about legal jargon. There are lots of words about investments, accounts from last name RICHARDS, Emmitt’s signature, and talk about partnering with the Family Heart Clinic attached to the regional hospital. Emmitt taps his toes—I must be taking too long. I set down the pen. One thing my dad always taught me was to trust my gut, and something is making me want to puke. “I’m going to look over these tonight.”
“I had my dad check them out. They’re solid.”
“Great,” I say. “I’ll get them to you tomorrow.”
He fidgets. “How about tonight? After dinner, maybe. I feel we need to talk and smooth some things over if we’re going be partners like this.”
“You know what, Emmitt?” I say, sounding exhausted because I am. I’m so tired of this cruel heartache. “I don’t care to talk. Really.”
He glances at the tiled ceiling. “We gave each other some good years. Maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to throw it all away.”
“It was building for a while, Emmitt. I’m sorry, but you know that’s true or we both wouldn’t have moved on so quickly.”
He narrows his eyes. “You moved on, huh? That guy really meant something to you?”
My jaw tightens, and all I get out is, “He does.” Present tense. Zac means a great deal to me. I’m sure he always will.
Emmitt rakes his fingers through his hair. “Okay. I’ve never said anything like this, but can you think about talking? Maybe I need closure. On your time frame, but I think you cared about me once, so I’d love to not leave things unsaid.”
I felt a bit of sympathy. I did care about Emmitt. He could be a jerk, but he was the guy who got me through some tough years. I soften my voice. “I’ll think about it, okay. I promise.”
“That’s all I ask.” He winks and disappears into the hallway.
Only after he leaves do I let my chin quiver. I refuse to cry at work, but a tear still slides over my lashes.
I wish Zac were here.
That ache in my gut, the uneasiness, hasn’t abated all day. I read the papers for the hundredth time, view the account information, and am still confused. Not that Emmitt’s father had ever given me a reason not to trust him, but I want a second opinion.
When the office is quiet and everyone—including Emmitt—has left for the day, I dial an old friend. “Mr. Albertson,” I say when the line connects. “This is Josephine Richards.”
Quiet for a long moment until the croak softens to a throaty chuckle. “Josephine. It’s been so long. How are you? I admit I was surprised to get your email after your birthday. I thought I told you to always call. I miss your voice. Investing now, are you?”
I pinch my brows together, the twist inside deepening. My father’s former attorney is kind and had been in my life since I had two teeth. But he’s not making much sense. “What email was this?”
“For the fund,” he says, but he must catch the unease in my tone. “What’s going on, Jo?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I was wondering if you could explain a few things to me about that bank account.”
“Bank account?”
I swallow hard. My hands shake. “Please, John. Pretend I didn’t email you and start fresh. What is this m
oney I’m withdrawing?”
I sit at my desk as John Albertson dives into the entire explanation. Most doesn’t make sense, until it does. Like a slap to the face, everything is horrifically crystal clear.
I thank him, ask for a hold on the withdrawal, sign a new form he sends me immediately after our phone call, and make plans to meet with him at his office soon. When my heart stops racing, I text Emmitt.
He’s right. We do need to talk.
I keep the lights in my apartment low. Everything is in its place, but these walls feel barren and cold.
When Emmitt knocks, I rush to answer, so much to tell him. He beams at me from the hall, my favorite cologne on his skin. Such a pity. He’s a good-looking guy, but such a pig.
“Come in,” I say, swinging the door open wide.
Emmitt hands me a bouquet of lilies that I take without a word.
“I’m glad you decided to do this, Jo. I think we need to clear the air, and just start fresh.”
“You’re up for this?”
He plops onto the couch and spreads his arms along the back. “Let me have it. Get it all out so we can start over.”
“Great, because there’s a lot I want to say.”
“I figured.” He pats the cushion next to him. “Want to come sit?”
“No, I prefer to stand. Okay, first question. How long have you known about my inheritance?”
Emmitt’s face pales. “What are you talking about?”
“My inheritance, Emmitt. You know, the money my father left behind from the sale of his clinic that he didn’t drink into nothing. Oh, and his impressive savings account he’d kept.”
The air in the room is heavy, like resin on my skin as pressure builds. Emmitt is dumfounded and only stares at me like I’ve slapped him. I’d like to.
“Nothing was squandered as you and your father so bluntly told me after his funeral.”
Emmitt shakes his head and slowly rises from the couch. “Jo, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a simple question. You’ve known for a long time, haven’t you? You knew it wouldn’t be available until I was twenty-six. Right? Did you and your daddy work this little plan after he went through my dad’s financials?”
“What, no.” He sighs. “I kept it safe for you. So you could do this, live your dream. I just thought we’d do it together.”
Heat boils in the pit of my stomach. “Funny thing, Emmitt—I called Reswell. He said the clinic was his idea, true, but you told him I would be a main investor, only if you were the attending physician, of course. You kept this money from me, so you could use it for yourself someday. What was the original plan before Reswell’s clinic came around? Pay off your loans? Buy a Mercedes? What?”
Emmitt holds up his hands. “Jo, you’ve misunderstood everything.”
“Have I? Your dad, and you, handled my father’s will. From your own mouth you said he left nothing. Yet, that joint account was really my trust from his will. I talked to my father’s attorney. He told me about the email he received requesting the forms and with a detailed plan of the investment. You told him you’d name the clinic after my father. Really, Emmitt? How low can you stoop?”
“I planned to name it in his honor—for you. I thought this would be something you’d want, Jo!”
“You’re demented and you disgust me. How long have you watched me go on believing the man I loved more than anyone drank away every cent? You let me think those things about my father, Emmitt.”
“We can do this in his memory. Jo, I’m better with money. I didn’t want it to go to waste.”
Now I slap him. Emmitt clutches his face and gawks as the corners of my lips curl. I’ve never slapped a man, but slapping this man feels amazing.
“No, we won’t do anything in his memory,” I say. “You have no stake in this anymore. I’ve rescinded the offer to Reswell. The clinic isn’t happening, and I’m afraid Doctor Reswell is severely disappointed. Enough that he’s opening a review with the board of directors. Might want to make a call to your dad, Emmitt. Soon you could be defending that license of yours. Or maybe I’ll just go to the police. Fraud and theft is a crime.”
“Why are you doing this, Jo?”
“It’s something I should have done a long time ago.” I fold my arms and study his pathetic stance. How had I ever fallen for him? “I was a business arrangement to you. I think it’s time you left.”
“You weren’t a business arrangement. I thought we had goals together, and that we could use the money to build those goals.”
“You’re selfish and a liar. Now, I asked you to leave.”
I startle when another knock pounds on my door.
Emmitt is undeterred. “Jo, don’t do this. You don’t know what this will do to me.”
“Oh, bless your heart.” I stop at that, chuckling as I cover my mouth.
“What’s funny?” he snaps.
“Bless your heart,” I whisper. “They say it in Honeyville.”
I miss that small town. What a mistake I almost made. I’d give anything to be at the shore now, hair in the breeze, laughing and listening to the drawl. I shake my head to clear the ache and fling open my door, signaling Emmitt to leave.
Emmitt doesn’t move. He’s glaring at my doorframe. I follow his gaze and my stomach, my heart, everything falls out onto the floor in a nauseating lurch. I can’t speak more than a whisper. “Zac?”
25
Zac
Great. Her ex is here. My sweaty palms ball into fists, and I take a step back. “This was a bad idea.” I turn to leave but pause at the same time Jo tells me to wait. If she wants me to jump through fire, I will.
I look over my shoulder. Jo is halfway out her door. I go to her, standing so close, but feeling miles away. “Jo, don’t be with this guy. Don’t settle like this.”
“Excuse me? Who do you think you are?” Emmitt snaps. “What’s he doing here, Jo?”
“Go away, Emmitt,” Jo grumbles, then wheels on me. “Not that it’s any of your business who I see romantically, Zachariah, but I already know I can’t be with him.”
I ignore Emmitt’s glare and let out a long breath as relief floods me like cool water in summer.
“What are you doing here, Zac?” She asks. Her words are like barbed wire.
“I think we’d all like to know.” Emmitt puffs out his chest.
“Stop it,” Jo says. “Emmitt, go. You’ve got a lawyer to call. Don’t come back.”
“Not until I know what this guy is doing coming here. I’m not sure you’re safe, Jo. Seems like he’s stalking you.”
I shove between Emmitt and Jo, so I can look at her, so I don’t hit this guy in the jaw. “I need to talk with you.”
“So talk,” she says.
I flick my eyes to Emmitt at my back. “Alone.”
“No, you can say anything you have to say right here,” Emmitt tells me.
“Do you mind?” I growl.
Emmitt shakes his head. “Not at all. Go ahead.”
Jo shoves his chest. “Go away, Emmitt.”
I lift a brow. She’s ready to tear out his throat if I took a wild guess. Emmitt glares at me with a dark level of hatred before he listens and storms down the hallway.
Alone with her, I drag in a long breath and face her. She’s beautiful, but I knew that. I want to take her against my chest, I want to tell her everything, but I can’t summon a single word.
“How did you know where I lived?”
She’s talking. I clear my throat. “Well, Judge McKinnon had all the information and, uh, my mom finally agreed to a date.”
She flinches, and I guess that she’s holding back a smile. Her voice softens. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
Jo scoffs, angry. Not what I’d expected. In my head she’d be shocked, then tear up, then fling her arms around me and we’d kiss until dawn. My epically male fantasy bubble pops the longer she keeps me standing in the hallway.
“Jo, wait.”
“What, Zachariah? I’ve had it up to here with men today. Last I checked, you ended things with me, and wouldn’t try to make things work with me. I’m tired, and I have a lot on my mind.”
“It wouldn’t be hard,” I say quickly. Out of everything, I need her to know this.
“What wouldn’t be hard?”
My face drifts closer, and there is a flicker of hope when she doesn’t pull away. She bites her bottom lip. “You asked me if I’d follow you,” I say. “And I told you it would be a lot to ask, that it would be hard. It wouldn’t. I came to tell you I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door. What’s hard is going on without you.”
Jo stares at me, her eyes glassy, her chin crinkled against emotion. With a heavy gasp, Jo glances at the carpet. “Zac, I would never ask you to do that.”
“But—”
“It means a lot that you would,” she admits softly. “I just don’t know right now. About anything.”
I step closer. Her skin smells like orchids and it takes all I have not to touch her. “Jo, I came all this way so that you could see I meant it.”
“Is that the only reason you came? To make a point?”
My throat is scratchy. Nothing is coming out right. “No, I love you, Jo. I want to be with you.”
She blinks furiously. “As you said, Zac, sometimes it’s not enough.” What is happening? Jo wipes away a tear and sniffs as she backs further into her apartment. “I have some things to work out before I can do . . . this.”
“Jo—”
“Please, Zac. I need to be alone. Please.”
Her voice breaks, and it feels as if my chest splits in two. I back out of her door. She closes me out. I’m alone. I came here with hope, and I’ll leave with nothing but a hole in my chest.
“I’ll be in tomorrow,” I say and rest my forehead in one hand. I got lucky and squeezed onto a red eye, but it’s wrong in so many ways.
Rafe is quiet for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “Sounds good.”
