The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood Book 1)

by Nikki Sloane

  Preston took a step backward and looked off-kilter. He wasn’t expecting his father to make such an overture—in front of me, no less—and wasn’t sure how to defend himself against it. He stared at his father with pure disbelief.

  Greg’s voice firmed up. “You haven’t earned her forgiveness either. What about that?” He said it as a challenge. “I think the least you could do is not give up.”

  Preston looked at his dad like he was a ghost, and the words came from him in a blur. “I’m not dealing with this right now.”

  He puffed up his chest and strode from the room, not caring who was standing in the way as he went. The side of his shoulder clipped his dad, forcing Greg out of the doorway.

  Disappointment clung to his expression as he watched his son go.

  Was Preston ever going to accept his dad’s apology? Or had I screwed that up, driving a permanent wedge between the Lowe men?

  I felt a hundred emotions at once. Part of me was shamefully excited to see Greg again, but the crushing longing for him was there too, reminding me I didn’t have him anymore.

  “I’m sorry about him,” he said. His shoulders rose as he drew in a breath. “And I’m sorry about a lot of things. That I couldn’t choose us. That I made you end things. I was weak, and couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  There hadn’t been any fight in him when we’d broken up, I’d thought.

  But . . . had I been wrong?

  He’d gotten Preston to come to the hospital and attempt to apologize, so maybe he was fighting for us, just in a different way. Did he have a plan? He was smart and calculating, and right now I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

  I stared at him in the doorway, beautifully backlit by the bright hallway, and ached for him to come inside the room. I was desperate for him to storm over to my bedside, scoop me up in his arms, and set his mouth on mine, like he couldn’t tolerate another moment without kissing me.

  But Greg and I both knew wishing for things didn’t make them happen.

  His words were hushed, only for me. “I miss you.”

  The pain I felt wasn’t where his scalpel had cut me open. It was buried deeper inside. “I miss you too.”

  He took one hesitant step across the threshold of my room. “I’m working on it. On him.”

  I swallowed a breath. He’d said he wasn’t giving up, and the way he looked at me now, I knew he meant on everything. This man was driven, and he wasn’t going to quit when facing an obstacle.

  My pulse leaped with hope.

  When his phone chimed, disappointment created a deep crease in Greg’s forehead. He glanced at the screen, then back to me. “It’s the second time they’ve paged me.”

  I nodded and pulled the blanket tighter around my waist, mustering the bravest face I could, hoping he’d understand my meaning. “Okay. Go do what you need to.”

  Polly, our one-eyed cat, didn’t care for Tripod. In fact, she was old and ornery, and didn’t like anyone except my mom and me. It was late afternoon as my mom helped me into my bed, and both the dog and cat paced my room like two boxers preparing to go at each other.

  But they weren’t interested in fighting, only in staking their spot beside me. As soon as I was settled, propped up on some pillows, Polly leapt up on the bed. She curled into a tight ball beside my hip. Her ears went back when the dog also jumped on board. He wasn’t small or graceful, and I grimaced as the bed rocked.

  “Tripod, no!” My mom clapped her hands to try to shoo the dog off, but Tripod flattened himself against me, his head in my lap. He gave my mom the deepest puppy dog eyes he possessed, and she sighed. He was stubborn and spoiled, and when it came to my mom, he always got his way.

  “He’s fine,” I said.

  I would have laughed, but my incisions were tender. I’d discovered coughing, sneezing, and laughter were things to avoid right now. I put my hand on his head, and his tail thumped hard against the mattress. Polly’s ears went back again, perturbed, but she didn’t abandon her spot.

  “You need anything else?” my mom asked.

  “No.” I lifted the TV remote in one hand and my phone in the other. “I’m all set.” I gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you. I feel like we were there forever. I hope your garden’s okay.” She hadn’t even mentioned it while we were cooped up in the hospital.

  She laughed and waved a hand, brushing off my comment. “They’re plants. I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “But thanks for staying with me.”

  She gave me a weird smile, like I was being silly. “That’s what mothers do.” She faked seriousness. “But, honey, do that to me again and you’ll be in big trouble.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I promise, no more appendicitis for me.”

  Her gaze dropped to my wrist. “Want me to cut the bracelets off?”

  “Oh.” I eyed the plastic hospital ID bracelets clasped to my right wrist. My name, date of birth, and Dr. Lowe were printed on it. A small part of me didn’t want to take it off yet, but then I thought I was being ridiculous. “Yes, please.”

  She left and returned with a pair of scissors, and I held still while she cut the bands off.

  “I’m in love with Dr. Lowe,” I said abruptly.

  My mom paused, arched one eyebrow, and set the bands on my nightstand. “Oh, Cassidy, I know. I figured that out watching you two in recovery.”

  Oh no.

  I sank back against my pillows as dread filled my chest. Had I told him I loved him, again, this time while she was in the room? And had he stayed silent a second time? “What did I do?”

  “You looked at him.”

  I blinked. “That’s it?”

  “You looked at him the same way I used to look at your father.” Her expression was flat. “Men like him are a lot of heartache.”

  I pulled my face into a scowl. “He’s not like my father.”

  Once again, I got the look like I was being silly. Or maybe naïve. “He’s certainly old enough to be, isn’t he? Plus, a man who walks out on his son only cares about himself.”

  “He was young and made a mistake, but I can tell you, Preston’s the most important person in his life now.”

  Her expression was pure skepticism. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “He’d do anything for his son, and that included giving me up.”

  She sighed, then ran a hand over Tripod’s back, making the dog’s tail thump noisily on the bed. “I don’t know how to feel about that man anymore. He broke my baby girl’s heart, but also saved her life.” When she stopped petting him, Tripod nuzzled her hand on the bed, and she resumed. “He looked at you the same way, you know. He came right into that recovery room, took your hand, and held it the entire time he told me how the surgery went.”

  I took in a breath, and as my lungs expanded, there was the dull pain reminding me not to do that. I tried to picture the moment. Greg standing over my hospital bed, one of my hands clasped in his. It made my heart ache.

  “Well, I know you’re hurting,” my mom said, rising cautiously from the bed. I had no idea if she was talking about my physical or emotional pain. “Get some sleep. I know we both need it.”

  It was both comforting and uncomfortable with Tripod sleeping beside me like a furry, immovable log. Whenever I tried to get him to adjust, he just groaned and snuggled in.

  I’d gotten a few hours of sleep, but now my pain medicine was wearing thin, and I sent a text to my mom.

  Cassidy: Can you bring me something to drink? I’m ready for some more drugs.

  Mom: Good, you’re awake. Are you up for visitors?

  It had to be Lilith. My mom texted her when I went in for surgery, and my best friend had wanted to come by the hospital. I’d foolishly thought I’d get to go home last night and had told her not to worry about it.

  Cassidy: Yeah, send her up.

  Footsteps creaked on the stairs, causing both Polly and Tripod to lift their heads toward the sound. My door pushed open without a knock, and in stro
lled a boy, a can of Dr. Pepper in his hand.

  God, again?

  THIRTY-FOUR

  TRIPOD WAS OFF THE BED in a heartbeat, darting around Preston’s legs in that joyful dance only dogs do when excited to see new people. Traitor, I wanted to yell to my dog. Polly had my back. She glared at Preston, and as he cautiously approached the bed, she hissed.

  Today, I was most definitely a cat person.

  I eyed Preston while he set the unopened can on my nightstand like it was a peace offering.

  “No,” I growled.

  Tripod froze, sensing the tension, and hightailed it back to my bed.

  “I just need two minutes.” His voice was quiet and pleading.

  “Well, whatever you need,” I patronized. I stared at my ex-boyfriend, wondering why the hell my mother let him up. I’d told her he’d stopped by this morning and our conversation had been tense.

  He glanced around my room, and though he’d been here countless times, he looked at the space like it was new. Perhaps it was. I’d removed all traces of him after my birthday. I didn’t need to see his face or the reminder of how much he looked like his dad.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned in his spot, looking at me directly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. That day I screwed up, it was supposed to be a group of us, but everyone bailed—including you—except Stacy. So, I’d had a couple of beers, and we got into the hot tub because—”

  “I don’t want to know,” I snapped.

  He straightened and ran his fingers through his hair. His mannerisms were just like his father. “I didn’t fuck her. It didn’t get that far.”

  “I don’t want to know.” I couldn’t be clearer than I’d been already. The angriest part of me wondered if sex hadn’t happened because Greg had caught them. “And I don’t want your apology. Just go.”

  Unlike last time, he looked lost, and very much like the boy I’d loved once. But my heart didn’t work like it used to.

  “Okay. I didn’t come here to make it worse. I was trying to fix it.”

  Had he lost his damn mind? “Fix it? You can’t fix this.”

  “That came out wrong,” he answered quickly. “I’m trying to fix me. I’ve been an asshole to everyone, but most of all, to you.” He put his hands on his hips and sighed. “I got to the point where it was so bad, I didn’t even notice how awful I was anymore.”

  Something had changed in him, like his eyes were wide open again. “What happened?”

  “When he got home from work, my dad and I had a beer together.”

  My dad, he’d said. Not Greg. I waited for Preston to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Must have been one magical fucking beer.”

  Preston shifted in his stance, visibly agitated. Like last time, he didn’t want to be having this conversation. How had his father gotten him to attempt it a second time?

  “Look, I spent most of my first year here being mad at him, so we never really talked. After a while, we just moved past it. I told myself I didn’t want his apology, but I was . . . wrong. I didn’t know I needed it until he actually said it today.”

  Everything went still. The moment in the hospital room had been the first time he’d truly heard his father’s apology.

  He took a sudden step toward the bed, and Polly let out a low, guttural warning. If it had been in human speak, it would have been a threat to rip his face to shreds.

  “Okay, Polly. Chill.” He turned his focus back to me. “Like I said, I fucked up. You might not want my apology now, but I need to say it in case you do someday. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve what I did or how I treated you, and I’m sorry.”

  What was I supposed to say? I opened my mouth, but words failed me. “Uh . . .”

  He was sincere. He’d come to apologize, not to make himself feel better, but for me. Preston’s first selfless act in a long, long time. Maybe it had been magical beer.

  I went with what was easiest. He’d said what he needed to, and I had to acknowledge it. “Okay.”

  I shifted gingerly on the bed. What was supposed to happen now? I accepted his apology, but he wasn’t exactly forgiven, and there were other things I was still upset about.

  He walked over to my desk and leaned against it, his expression odd. “He was a different person last night, after your surgery. You should have seen him.” He folded his arms over his chest. “He was scared, and it freaked me the fuck out.”

  Alarm coasted through me. “Scared of what?”

  “Losing me. Losing you.” Preston’s eyes weren’t quite as dark as his father’s. Maybe they’d grow to be that way. He just hadn’t seen as much as Greg had yet. But Preston’s eyes were beautiful all the same and trapped me under his intense gaze. “He told me today he’s spent the last ten years trying to dig himself out of the hole he made when he was my age, and he wasn’t going to let me do the same.”

  A faint, embarrassed smile glanced over his lips and vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  “Then,” he continued, “my dad laid into me about all the shit he’d let me get away with, because he thought going easy on me was his best chance to earn forgiveness. He told me he was going to, quote, ‘take away my shovel.’”

  I blinked.

  Preston straightened from the desk. “You know, so I couldn’t dig my own hole?”

  “I got it,” I said dryly.

  “So, we talked about—fuck, everything. And I’m going to try to do better.”

  I couldn’t help but be dubious. “Starting today.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze drifted away from mine. “I had to find out you were in the hospital from my dad.”

  “Was I supposed to tell you? Honestly, I didn’t think you’d care.”

  He deflated. “What I mean is, you were my best friend, and I took you for granted. I didn’t realize how much I did until you were with . . . someone else.”

  The statement dropped the big, fat elephant right between us, where we couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  “You mean, the someone you took away from me?”

  He gave me an annoyed look. “You think walking in on that was easy? Sorry if I wasn’t immediately cool with seeing you fuck my dad.”

  My cheeks burned, and I dropped my gaze to my lap. “I’m sorry you found out that way, but we were going to tell you.”

  “Yeah, I know. He pointed out I’d done stuff behind your back and kept it a secret, so I guess I don’t really have any room to complain.” He exhaled loudly, his shoulders dropping. “Honestly, Cassidy, I don’t get it. You and my dad together? It’s a little fucked up.”

  Anger swelled inside me. “You don’t—”

  He held up a hand. “I’m not done. I don’t understand it, and I don’t like it, but that doesn’t matter because it’s not always about me.”

  My heart tripped, stumbling over itself. “What are you saying?”

  “It’s selfish of me to get in the way of you two. If you want to be together. So, I guess I’m not going to do it anymore.” He grimaced. “But I can’t promise it’s not going to be awkward as fuck.”

  My chest tightened. “Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s super weird. He’s twenty years older than you.”

  I made a face. “No, I meant—oh.”

  Preston’s expression said he’d been messing with me. Then he turned sincere. “If we hadn’t gone through this whole mess, my dad and I would still be where we were, stuck in a holding pattern.”

  Shock wasn’t a strong enough word for what I was feeling. “You’ve forgiven him?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. I’m getting there.”

  “Preston,” I said, trying not to gasp, “that’s huge.”

  “Yeah, it is.” He nodded and gave me such a deep look, I felt the weight of it. “You played a big part in that.”

  I put my hand to the center of my chest to keep his words from knocking me out. After everything, I still cared about him, and it meant so much that he’d taken this step.

  “So, I’m gonna go now. I shou
ld probably tell you my dad’s downstairs with your mom, and the air was kind of frosty between them.”

  I didn’t know which part to focus on first. “Your dad’s here?”

  “We both wanted to see you. I got to go first.”

  “Of course, you did.” I wasn’t sure if he’d know this time I meant it as a joke, or how he’d handle it, or if it was too soon. But I hoped one day we could go back to being friends, and we had to start somewhere.

  The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “I hope you feel better soon.”

  Did he mean it on more than one level? Because I already felt a lifetime better.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  MY MOUTH WENT DRY as the stairs groaned. Greg was about to walk into my room, and I had to look like garbage. I hadn’t showered since—oh, God—Thursday. I finger-combed my bedhead as fast as my wounds would allow, trying to look presentable.

  Preston had left my door open when he’d gone, so there wasn’t a knock, only Greg’s voice from the hallway. “Cassidy?”

  “In here.” Could he hear how tight my voice was?

  He stepped into the room and was instantly greeted by Tripod. The dog’s outward excitement was mirrored inside me. Greg looked how he usually did. Dark jeans, fitted t-shirt, expensive watch on his wrist. His hair was styled as normal, his beard trim.

  But he was more appealing than I’d ever seen him. The lines at the corners of his eyes were less pronounced. As he watched Tripod’s ridiculous fit of excitement at his feet, Greg was quick to smile.

  “This dog is missing a leg,” he said.

  “He is? I hadn’t noticed.”

  As he looked at me, the connection between us was so strong, I worried I might melt. “And you want to be a vet,” he teased.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. Everything was so different now.