D is for Doctor (ABCs of Love Sweet Romance Book 4)

by Brenna Jacobs

  David breathed out a sigh then finally turned around to face her. “I’m sorry.” His tone was flat, emotionless. “You’re right. I was out of line.” He took a step backward toward the stairs. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I won’t mention Tucker again.”

  Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and turned. “I do have to wonder, if things are so good between you and Tucker, why you just came that close to kissing me.”

  Avery watched him walk across the grass to his own house, letting himself in the front door without a backward glance. She sank back into the cushions of the couch, completely steamrolled by the previous five minutes. She’d wanted to kiss David, felt a pull to him unlike anything she’d experienced in a long time. For a split second, she didn’t see her neighbor, or a nerdy doctor, or a socially awkward guy in glasses. She just saw a man, a man that looked at her like he saw her all the way to her soul.

  And then he’d gone and ruined everything by mentioning Tucker. If he wanted to compete with the guy, the lesson he needed to learn most was to keep his opinions to himself. He’d actually had a fighting chance until he went and opened his mouth.

  Avery stomped into her house, slamming and locking the front door with enough force to make her entire house shake. Without giving herself time to think about it, she crossed to her phone and texted Tucker. Late tomorrow is good. I’m already looking forward to it.

  Chapter 12

  David worked back-to-back shifts on Friday. Not because he’d planned to, or because he particularly wanted to. The ER had just been too busy for him to leave. He finally managed to head home just after six Saturday morning, after successfully delivering a baby in the front seat of a car in the parking lot of the ER. That had been a first, and it made for a pretty decent way to finish twenty-three hours on his feet. All he wanted now was a hot shower, a peanut butter protein bar, and twelve hours in his bed.

  He reached the island just as the sky started to lighten, the wispy clouds over the ocean a stunning array of pink and orange and deep yellow. It was almost enough to lure him to the beach to watch the sunrise. Almost. He pulled into his driveway and turned off the ignition, his head falling forward onto the steering wheel.

  “Bed,” he said sleepily. “Bed would be good.”

  He climbed out of his car and shut the door, turning when movement at Avery’s caught his eye. He froze, his blood running cold.

  Tucker’s truck was in her driveway.

  Tucker himself was standing on her porch, kissing Avery as she leaned halfway out her front door.

  Well, then.

  David shook his head and turned slowly toward his own house, too tired to care. No, not too tired to care. He definitely cared. Too tired to do anything about it? Absolutely.

  He was almost to his front steps when Tucker called his name.

  “Hey, David?”

  David breathed out a weary sigh and turned around, his face expressionless.

  “Man, you look rough,” Tucker said. “A lady friend keep you up all night, too?” He smirked.

  “Yeah. She was eight pounds, three ounces and she and mom are both doing great.”

  “Ha,” Tucker said with a chuckle. “Touché.”

  “What do you want, Tucker? I just worked back-to-back shifts. I don’t really feel like talking.”

  Tucker glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure Avery was well and truly inside her house and out of earshot. David had to wonder if she was watching through a window though. What would she think about Tucker approaching him?

  “I don’t know what you were doing out at Jessica’s the other night,” Tucker finally said, “but I’m pretty sure you weren’t on a date.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s possible I asked around and couldn’t find a single person that recently moved into Jessica’s complex. Funny, right?”

  David’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing. What could he say?

  “You don’t want to go to battle with me, Doctor Daniels,” Tucker said, emphasizing the doctor. “You won’t win.”

  David ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumped. He was way too tired to deal with Tucker. To deal with anything. “What are you trying to prove?” he finally asked. He looked Tucker right in the eye. “Why do it? Why hurt her like this? She doesn’t . . .” David sighed, not even sure what he was trying to say. “I know you think you’re just fooling around, but she doesn’t. She thinks this is going somewhere.”

  “You don’t know anything about what Avery—” Tucker stopped and smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. “Oh, I see what this is. You like her.”

  Was there not anything David could say to get rid of this guy? He opted for the direct approach. “Can you just leave? Please? I told you I wouldn’t say anything, and I won’t.”

  Tucker took a step backward, laughing softly. “That would really be something,” he said. “You and Avery? I mean, I have to give you props for even thinking it’s possible.” He laughed again, a cruel, condescending laugh. “Talk about shooting for the stars.”

  David turned and climbed his porch steps. Tucker had some nerve. How could Avery be so blind to the guy’s obvious lack of character?

  “Don’t forget, Doc,” Tucker said as he continued to back away, just loud enough for David to hear. “I’m having dinner with Stevenson tomorrow night. It wouldn’t be hard for your name to come up.”

  David unlocked his front door and stepped inside, slamming it closed behind him without acknowledging Tucker’s words. He was done. So done.

  He dropped his phone and his keys onto his bedside table and pulled his shirt over his head. His bed called to him, but experience had taught him he’d sleep better if he washed the smell of the hospital from his skin. Minutes later, he climbed into his bed, muscles relaxed and skin red from the heat of his shower. He closed the blinds to the brightening day and checked his phone one last time.

  He had a text message from Avery.

  What did Tucker want?

  David leaned back on his pillow, his phone pressed against his chest. How could he respond? For a fleeting moment, he thought about just telling her the truth. Oh nothing. He just wanted to threaten me again, intimidate me out of telling you that he’s engaged to someone else and is using you. But then Lucy’s words echoed in his mind. You don’t want to mess with the King family. He dropped his phone onto the bed beside him and rolled over, punching his pillow a few times before settling onto his side. Why did he even need to respond? Let her wonder what Tucker wanted. She could always ask him what he wanted. Let Tucker be the one to lie.

  His phone buzzed with another text and he reached for it, annoyed with himself over how quickly hope swelled in his chest—hope that she’d texted him again.

  Sorry, she had typed. You’ve probably been up all night. I should let you sleep!

  David sighed. It’s okay, he texted. Not sleeping yet.

  He tapped the side of his phone against his bare chest. Now what was he supposed to say? Withholding information was one thing, though that made him feel rotten enough. But he couldn’t outright lie. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

  Another message from Avery popped up. It isn’t what it looked like. Tucker being at my house. We didn’t . . . nothing happened.

  Relief washed over David, even as doubt niggled at his brain. That wasn’t what Tucker had said, though he was definitely more inclined to believe Avery over Tucker. You don’t owe me an explanation, he texted back. Because she didn’t.

  I know, she responded. But I still wanted you to know.

  David debated whether or not he should tell her what Tucker had said. Or implied, at least. But what good would that do?

  So what did he want? Avery asked again. He was complaining about his wrist hurting and I told him he should ask your opinion. Was that it? I didn’t think he’d hit you up so soon.

  I didn’t mind, David keyed out, grateful he didn’t have to lie outright. It wasn’t a big deal.

  Oh. You looked angry, Avery texted back. I w
as worried.

  I worked all night, David responded. I was just tired.

  Anything exciting? her next text read.

  David sat up, knowing he’d never keep texting if he stayed horizontal. I delivered a baby in the parking lot. I think that counts as exciting.

  DEFINITELY, Avery texted back.

  David stared at his phone, loving that Avery had initiated a conversation, even if it had started about Tucker.

  I hoped they’d name the baby after me. Alas, it was a little girl.

  Davina could be cute.

  David smiled.

  Another message popped up. Or, since this is the South, Daveen.

  Davidina?

  Oh! I googled it. Davinia is an actual real name.

  Actually, they named her Avery, David replied.

  WHAT. You’re joking, Avery texted.

  Nope. Avery Jane. I like it.

  I AM TOTALLY FREAKING OUT JANE IS MY MIDDLE NAME. Her message was followed by several *mind blown* emojis.

  That’s crazy. Good karma for the baby, though. I mean, you’re pretty amazing, so . . .

  When Avery didn’t text back, David briefly wondered if he’d overstepped. But he shook his worries away. He wasn’t going to apologize for how he felt about Avery. But maybe he should apologize for how their conversation had gone the last time they’d talked.

  Avery, he typed. I’m sorry. He deleted the words and tried again.

  Listen. I’m sorry about the other night.

  Delete.

  I’m sorry I was a jerk when we talked about Tucker.

  Delete. Delete.

  I know I was out of line, but Tucker is a cheating jerk and he doesn’t deserve you.

  Delete. Delete. Delete.

  Please leave him and love me instead.

  Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.

  David heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes. He maybe shouldn’t be trusted with his phone on so little sleep. Before he could try again, another text from Avery popped up.

  I’m sorry I was so defensive the other night. Thank you for answering Tucker’s wrist questions.

  Funny they’d been thinking along the same lines. Don’t apologize, David responded. I was the one who was wrong. I shouldn’t have judged. He didn’t text that he also should have just kept his mouth closed and let her kiss him, even though that’s exactly what he was thinking. They might be having a very different conversation if he’d let the moment play out.

  Still friends? Avery asked. He’d never hated the word friends quite so much.

  David responded immediately. Absolutely yes.

  Chapter 13

  Avery ate dinner at Melba’s house later that day. She reread her text thread with David while Melba rooted around in her kitchen. “You want hot sauce?” Melba called from behind the fridge door.

  “And ruin a perfectly good bowl of shrimp and grits?” Avery yelled back.

  Melba shuffled back to the table, the open bottle of hot sauce in her hands, and dumped a generous portion onto her own bowl. “Sometimes I don’t know how you call yourself a true Charlestonian.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. Drowning the flavor out of your food does not make you more Southern than me.”

  “Drowning, nothin’,” Melba said. “This here highlights the flavor. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Avery scooped up a bite of the creamy grits at the bottom of her bowl, sliding them through the thick tasso gravy before moving the spoon to her mouth. Avery was a sucker for Melba’s shrimp and grits. Nobody made them like she did. Still, Melba usually only offered them up when she felt like Avery was in need of some life-directing wisdom or a swift kick up-side the head. Avery knew as much, but could never bring herself to turn down the invitation. She’d take Melba’s advice if it meant eating Melba’s cooking.

  Melba nudged the skillet of cornbread toward Avery. “Try some. And butter it. I did something different and want to know if you like it.”

  Avery did as she was asked, cutting out a thick slab of the cornbread and slathering it with the butter that sat in a crock at the center of the table. She took a bite, chewing slowly as the flavors exploded on her tongue. She looked at Melba, eyebrows raised. “Did you…why does this taste like bacon?”

  Melba grinned. “Like it?”

  Avery took another bite. Did she like it? It was maybe the best cornbread she’d ever had. Melba made it like she was supposed to—without sugar, in a well-seasoned iron skillet coated with enough butter to make the cornbread crispy around the edges.

  “It isn’t the cornbread that tastes like bacon,” Melba said. “It’s the butter.”

  “You put bacon in your butter?”

  Melba raised her shoulders. “Just a touch of the grease. It didn’t take much.”

  Avery’s arteries protested even as her stomach rejoiced. It was a good thing Melba didn’t cook for her all the time.

  “So,” Melba said, leaning back in her chair.

  Avery steeled herself for the interrogation she knew was coming. Melba was as predictable as the tides.

  Avery fished a shrimp out of her bowl, piling grits on top of it before putting the whole bite into her mouth. She didn’t hurry. Shrimp and grits was a meal to be savored, after all. She’d let Melba ask her questions, but she didn’t have to make it easy on her. “So,” she repeated, when she’d swallowed her food.

  Melba leaned her elbows onto the table. “I saw Tucker’s truck this morning,” she said. “Mite early for a visit, wasn’t it?”

  Avery kept her eyes on her food. A part of her wanted to lie just to spite Melba. Nothing had happened with Tucker. But if it had, it wasn’t Melba’s place to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. But Melba only asked because she was concerned. And based on how Tucker had behaved the night before, she had reason to be. Avery swallowed her pride. “Nothing happened, Melba.”

  Melba raised an eyebrow. “Nothing? Was he there all night?”

  “Yes. But nothing happened. He showed up at my house and I could tell he’d been drinking. I didn’t want him to drive himself home, so I let him stay. But he slept on the couch.” Not that he hadn’t tried to sleep in her bed.

  Melba nodded her head, then looked at Avery’s phone, still sitting on the table next to her. “Well that’s a relief. I didn’t think you were the kind of woman that would share her bed with one man, when you’re actually interested in another.”

  Heat traveled up Avery’s neck, pooling in her cheeks; Melba’s words struck a little too close to the truth. She reached up and flipped over her phone, face down onto the table. How had Melba seen what she’d been reading anyway?

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Avery asked. “I’m not interested in David. And things with Tucker are fine.” Well, fine-ish. Her night with Tucker hadn’t been awful, exactly. When she’d invited him over, she’d definitely thought about where the night might lead. But then he’d shown up already halfway to drunk. He’d pressured her in ways that had made her really uncomfortable and had been sullen and rude when she’d insisted he sleep on the couch. She’d wanted to believe that Tucker was all in, interested in making their relationship what she’d always believed it could have been the first time around. But the night before had felt a lot like their old relationship. It might just have been the alcohol talking, but is that what she wanted? A relationship where she had to ask that question?

  “Avery, what’s this about? This whole idea of getting back together with Tucker?” Melba reached over and squeezed Avery’s hand. “It didn’t work the first time around, sugar. What makes you think this time will be any different?”

  Avery considered the question. The summer she’d met Tucker, she’d been working at the yacht club, putting herself through school, scrimping and saving every penny so she could afford to live out on the island and help her grandma cover the property taxes that made beach living so expensive. She’d always known Charleston was full of old money, but she’d never really experienced it
up close. She’d grown up going to public high school, shopping at the outlets, eating seafood from the fish camps out on the islands. She wasn’t a King Street boutiques and Magnolia’s Sunday brunches kind of girl. She’d never felt like she was missing out, either. Not until that summer. She’d been scrubbing the dock right beside the King’s sailboat when Tucker had emerged from the bowels of the boat, a cold water bottle in hand. He’d passed it to her with a wide smile, showing his perfectly straight teeth. “You look like you could use this,” he had said.

  Next thing she knew, she was wearing sundresses and wedge sandals, attending garden parties and symphony concerts on Tucker’s arm. Every weekend, it was something different, somewhere different. Restaurants she’d only ever walked past. Wine that cost more than she earned in a week. Benefits that took place inside mansions she’d only read about in history books. She didn’t miss the parties or the events. She’d never loved getting dressed up or pretending like she cared about people she knew she’d never see again. There were things she had missed, though.

  “Is it about the money?” Melba asked.

  Avery looked up. “What? No. It’s definitely not that.” And it wasn’t. At least not directly. The luxuries that came along with dating Tucker were a nice perk, but for Avery it was more about the opportunities that came from being associated with the King family. Avery had fought her entire life to get what she wanted. She’d fought to get into the magnet high school in her school district. Fought to get into the College of Charleston. Fought to save enough money to live where she wanted. Fought to get her dream job at the aquarium. But Tucker didn’t really have to fight. His name alone opened doors that would never open to Avery on her own. “It’s dumb,” Avery said, finally meeting Melba’s eye. “I know you’ll think it’s dumb anyway.”

  “Try me,” Melba said.

  Avery took a steadying breath and fiddled with her spoon, scraping it around the edge of her bowl. “I guess it’s about feeling important,” she said. “I felt special, you know? Tucker could have dated any girl he wanted. And he picked me.”