Pathophysiology. The disordered physiological processes associated with disease or injury. This should be easy. The reverse of everything you learned in physiology. She rolled her eyes with a quiet laugh at herself.
She began. Pathophysiology of the circulatory system. Of the lungs. Of the musculoskeletal system. Of the skin. The brain. Two hours later, she sat back, rubbing at her sore hand. It was going to take her until school started to finish making the study cards. Should have started sooner. Shouldn’t have let yourself get bogged down in pharmacology.
A knock on the glass door sent the pen she was reaching for skidding off the table. Heart pounding, she turned to see DeShawn and Drake at the door.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” DeShawn said as she opened the door for them. “Came back for some lunch and a supply run.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t notice you walk up.”
DeShawn looked at the table. “More index cards?”
“I’ve got a lot to learn,” she said, leaning down to pick up her pen before returning to her seat.
Drake crossed the kitchen to open the fridge. “Pretty sure they don’t expect you to know it all before you start. That’s sort of what you’re paying for—them to teach you.”
“Don’t be picking on my Mickie,” DeShawn said, draping an arm around her shoulders. “I did the same thing before I started the engineering classes. Was afraid if I fell behind, I’d never catch up.”
“Exactly!” Mickie said. “See? I’m not insane. I’m just...”
“Insane,” Drake said as he carried sandwich fixings to the counter.
“Who’s insane?” Josh asked as he came in the back door.
Drake pointed a mayonnaise-covered knife at Mickie. “That one.”
Josh’s eyes met hers before moving to the index cards on the desk.
“Yeah, those. Does seem a little compulsive.” He smiled at her.
She turned away from those dark blue eyes and began straightening the cards. “It’s a tad OCD, but well within normal limits. I like to be prepared. That’s not insane. It’s prudent.”
“Thinking ahead,” DeShawn added.
“See? DeShawn agrees with me.”
“Yeah, but he’s crazy, too,” Josh said.
“Go away. All of you.”
Josh went away to his office. DeShawn and Drake, however, remained in the kitchen, taunting her. She teased them back, grateful for the distraction. Because Josh was back there. Sitting there. Alone. The bad thoughts were back.
“You aren’t going to fail,” DeShawn said. “I’ll put money on it.”
Mickie crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “And what makes you so sure about that?”
“You don’t have any other option but to pass. Am I right?”
Her teasing smile faltered on her lips. He was right. The weight of it pressed down on her. But she’d shouldered heavier loads than this. This was only the longest distance she’d have to walk with the weight. “One hundred percent right,” she said, turning her attention back to the notes and the index cards.
The moment they left, her concentration went to hell. No amount of pathophysiology would get Josh off her mind. They were alone. This was the perfect time. She only needed to work up the nerve to say what she wanted to say. Well, the nerve and exactly what it was she wanted to say. Because she didn’t know what she wanted. She only knew what she didn’t want. She stood.
And sat back down. Her fingers played over the fresh stack of index cards. Angioplasty. Something about fixing a blood vessel. Yeah, she was going to have to get busy on this subject. She looked up at the hall doorway. Come on. Go do it. You’ll find the words. Or are you going to take the coward’s way out? She stood.
* * *
“COME ON IN,” Josh called out after a tentative knock on the door. Mickie opened it and sort of slunk into the room. She stood against the wall right inside the room, her hands clenched together. “What’s the matter?”
She cleared her throat. “Nothing.”
He spun around in his chair to face her. “Something’s wrong. Ian?”
“No.”
“Did Wyatt have news for you?”
She crossed the room quickly and sat in the other chair, facing him. “No. Nothing like that. Josh, I—I wanted to...talk to you.”
A bad feeling came over him. His stomach seemed to fall away to his feet while icy cold fingers gripped his heart. No. Don’t let this be that. He glanced at his phone, willing it to ring. Anything to derail whatever was about to come out of her mouth.
“Mickie...”
“Listen to me, Josh. We’ve got something here. Don’t we? I know I feel it and I think you do, also.”
“Mickie.”
Her cheeks went bright red but she stammered on. “I mean, I know neither of us is in a place where we are ready...but that doesn’t mean we have to let this go, does it?”
He had to stop this. Before she fell further down this rabbit hole and dragged him down with her. Barely able to look into her eyes, he reached out and took her hands. “Mickie, we can’t continue this. I can’t continue this. It’s best if we walk away friends.”
“Why? Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. Don’t tell me you don’t care about me. Or Ian. I know how I feel about you.”
He lowered his head and stared at the floor. Why didn’t she stab him in the heart? Because she was right. He did care. He did want to be a part of her life. But he couldn’t. And she had to understand that.
“Mickie,” he said softly. “You can’t. I’m not who you think I am.”
She pulled her hands away and sank back in the chair. “What do you mean?”
He looked up at her, knowing his pain meant nothing. Saving her was what was important. “My father beat my mother almost every day. When I was five, he murdered her, then killed himself.”
The confusion in her eyes began to shift to something else. Concern. Sympathy. He shook his head. “No. When I was nineteen, I learned I have that same monster in me, Mickie. During an argument, I slammed my fist through a wall two inches from the face of a woman I said I loved. I can’t ever risk hurting another person. The best thing for you would be to take that job at the day care and move in with that woman. Get as far away from me as possible.”
He forced himself to watch her eyes as the warm sympathy melted away to be replaced with fear. You did that to her, Josh. You put that fear there. She stared back at him for a moment before standing and walking out. He slumped back in the chair, sick to his stomach and burning with shame. It’s for her own good. She had to know the truth.
* * *
MICKIE BARELY MADE it to the sink in her kitchen before everything she’d eaten in the last week came up from her horrified stomach. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, she ran water over them and sank to the floor. Dear God. You did it again. Threw yourself at another man you should have run away from. What is wrong with you?
She wiped at her face. Every part of her was shaking. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She should have known it was too good to be true. Nice guy next door. Helping her move. Giving her a job. Jumping her bones. She wrapped her arms around her drawn-up legs and rested her forehead on her knees. Even now, she was looking for excuses. Looking for reasons why it wasn’t true. When he’d come right out and told her.
“Believe him.” Rising to her feet, she cleaned up her mess. Back to the original plan. Find another job. Find another place to live. Hopefully the apartment offer would still be good. Get away from Josh and his blue eyes and wounded soul that turns off your common sense. No more thinking with your heart.
She glanced at the clock. Plenty of time for a nice long shower before she had to pick up Ian from day care. Wash this day away. Where she could pretend she wasn’t crying. Where her sobs wouldn’t be hear
d.
Again. You’re hiding and crying in the bathroom again. She turned off the water, disgusted with herself. This was different. Stop beating yourself up. Old you would have argued, would have tried to convince him that what was in the past was the past. Old you would have continued to pursue him. This is new you.
She toweled dry and, wrapping the towel around her wet hair, moved into the bedroom to dress. A quick glance at her phone showed a missed call. She tapped the screen to make sure it wasn’t from the day care. It wasn’t. Cold fear made her shiver. Wyatt Anderson. She dressed quickly and contemplated the call. Good news? Bad news? Did she even want to know?
She squared her shoulders carried the phone to the living room. Might as well get it over with now. Before she had to pretend everything was okay in front of Ian.
“It’s a bad-news, good-news, bad-news, good-news situation,” Wyatt told her when she got him on the phone.
She felt strangely calm. Or was it numb? “Okay.”
“Bad news is that he is out. Got out after eighteen months for good behavior. Apparently, he’s a shit human being but a model prisoner.”
“The good news?” she asked through cold lips.
“He has a girlfriend. Good thing about that is that once an abuser focuses on another person, they rarely go back to a previous relationship.”
“God help her. Bad news?”
“Before I tell you this, know that it isn’t going anywhere. Nothing is going to come of this. There is no way, okay?”
What could be worse than him being out of prison eight and a half years early? A horrifying thought slimed its way through her fog. “Ian,” she whispered.
Wyatt sighed. “Yeah. He asked his lawyer about getting visitation. The lawyer shut him down. Told him it would never happen. I spoke to the lawyer. He reported the request to the Department of Social Services. Your case is sealed. But it has been flagged for extra precautions. There is absolutely no way. His parental rights were severed. That is extreme. Okay? I only told you so you’d know the truth. He doesn’t know what your new names are. The lawyer said he called Ian ‘the baby’ and doesn’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. Ian is safe.”
She forced herself to breathe. Slow. Deep. In. Out. The idea of that monster even thinking about her baby made her want to snatch up Ian and run far, far away.
“You okay?” Wyatt asked softly.
“Yes. It’s hard to hear. You said there was more good news?”
“As of today, I checked right before I called you, he is still in Wisconsin. He has to meet with his parole officer in person every other day and call in on the off days. He’s not missed a single report in since getting out.”
“So he’s out there. Wandering around free.”
“And being watched carefully. The parole officer and I spoke. He was aware of the history. My contact upped his commitment to keeping tabs on this guy.”
“So, you think I’m safe?”
“I can’t say that with any certainty. But it does look like he’s moved on. He’s doing all the right things. Hopefully, he’ll keep on doing them. I’ll keep in touch with his parole officer. He promised me he’d let me know if he had a failure to report.”
Mickie nodded and swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Wyatt. I appreciate this. I really do. I probably can’t pay you all at once, but if you send me a bill, I can pay a little at a time.”
“There’s no bill. You’re a part of the Crew. That makes you practically family.”
She slumped in the chair. I don’t even think I’m an employee anymore. “Thank you, Wyatt. I mean it. And tell Sadie thanks for me, too. You guys have been amazing. I appreciate it.”
She ended the call and sat staring at the ceiling for a long time. She didn’t have the energy for any more drama. There was a light knock on the front door and she let her body slump even more. No more, day, okay? But the day wasn’t finished with her, she realized, as she looked through the peephole. Josh.
She opened the door a crack. “Yeah?”
He held up a pile of papers, index cards carefully balanced on top. “You left these.”
She opened the door and snatched the papers from his hands. “Thanks,” she said before shutting the door in his face.
“Mickie, open the door. I wasn’t finished.”
“I am,” she said, sliding the chain lock in place. A brave declaration from someone whose heart was pounding and legs trembling.
After a long pause, she heard a sigh. “Okay,” Josh said. “I’ll have one of the guys bring over your paycheck tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was nothing she could say to that. She was sorry, too. Sorry and embarrassed and furious at herself.
* * *
IT FELT STRANGE, the next morning. To hear the guys arriving for work while she sat at her kitchen table, waiting for Ian to finish his breakfast. She sipped coffee and fingered the growing stack of index cards. She’d finished the entire pathophysiology syllabus and notes the night before in an attempt to stop thinking the thoughts that had been running circles in her mind.
“Momma?”
She smiled up at Ian. “What, honey?”
“Sad?”
She forced a smile. “No, baby. Momma is tired. You done? Ready to go play?”
She felt like a fugitive, peeking out the windows before maneuvering Ian’s stroller out the front door. She didn’t want to bump into any of the guys. Didn’t want to have to explain...anything. Ugh. What a fool I made of myself. She looked down, sending her hair cascading over her cheeks, hiding her face as she hurried down the sidewalk.
After getting Ian settled in his classroom, she sat down with the director to talk about the temporary job. She filled out all the proper paperwork. Was told a background check would be done and if that came back okay, she could start immediately. She shook the woman’s hand, thanked her and walked out into the heavy heat of the day. She looked around. She didn’t want to go home. Sit there with Josh right next door. The guys coming and going. And not be a part of it.
She wandered over to the USC campus and practiced finding her way around. Finding a shady bench, she sat down and pulled her phone out of her backpack. She scrolled through the few contacts she had. Tiana. Josh. The day care. It was a depressingly short list. She found Diane’s number. She was the single mom looking for a roommate. Mickie shook her head. She was regretting the decision to stay where she was now. She wanted to get as far away from Josh as possible. An aching lump rose in her throat. Why? Why had she let herself believe they might have had something? Why had she completely overlooked any clues about him?
She dialed Diane’s number. No answer. She left a message. Now what? She called Tiana.
“I’m sleeping.”
“It’s after three.”
“So? I worked last night.”
“Sorry. Go back to sleep.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m stupid.” Those were the only words she managed before dissolving into tears. She lowered her head, hiding behind her hair, and wiped at her eyes.
“No, you aren’t. What happened?”
Mickie couldn’t speak. She swiped at the tears and took a deep, gulping breath. “I made a fool of myself.” The tears wanted to come harder now. She held them back with sheer will. She was in public. She didn’t sit in public and cry. She stood and began walking toward home. Yes. Walking was better. Passing people made her keep the facade in place. Nothing to see here. Move along.
“Let me guess. This involves Mr. Blue Eyes next door.”
“Yes. There was something there, Tee. I swear he felt it, too. I went to him...”
“Geez, Mickie.”
“I know. I told him that I knew neither of us was in a p
lace where we could...but maybe we didn’t have to let it go completely.”
“And he said what?”
“He said he almost hit his girlfriend once. Put his fist through a wall. He said he’d never put anyone in that place again.”
Silence.
“Tee?”
“Hold up. I’m confused. He said what?”
“That when he was younger, he was violent toward his girlfriend. That his father beat his mother. And he wouldn’t put any other woman in that position.”
“Well. That’s...interesting.”
“Huh?”
She stopped in front of a house with a low brick fence around the front yard. Mickie sat down there. She really didn’t want to go home but she couldn’t sit on campus and cry all day, either.
“It’s interesting. Most abusers would never admit that they were at fault. They always make it the other person’s fault.”
“Oh. Tee, how did I let this happen again? How did I fall for one of them again?”
“I don’t know. Only you know that, Mickie. There are warning signs. Things that when you look back, you recognize as a pattern.”
“I told you I can’t look back on that. I can’t.”
“That’s fine. But here’s some tough love for you, Mickie. If you want to move forward, you’re going to have to look back. If you want to protect yourself in the future, you have to know how and why you got into that relationship. Come on, what’d you do? Ignore this in all your psychology classes?”
Mickie looked up through the branches to the heat-dulled blue sky. “I don’t know if I can, Tee. I really never want to think about it again. If I could pay to have it taken out of my brain, I would.” A movement caught her eye and she glanced over to see an orange-and-white cat disappear through a gap in the fence. “I feel so ashamed.”
“Well, as the valedictorian of my graduating class who walked across the stage carrying her one-year-old, I feel your shame. But let me tell you something. Shame is a good thing sometimes. The pain of it makes us change. So you can let that shame sit at the bottom of your soul and burn a hole right through or you can grab it up by its slimy little throat, look it in the eye and evict its ass. Move on. Do better.”
Boss on Notice Page 20
