by Isabel Jolie
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” I make a point of looking him in the eyes the way my dad taught me so he gets my sincerity. It’s good to know I can trust him to look out for Anna if I can’t be here to do it myself.
Chapter 11
Anna
I never realized how hard it is to get ready on one leg. By the time I hobble out of my apartment, my right thigh—the leg not sporting a softball sized ankle—burns from all the one-legged hopping. My quads are on fire.
A coffee cup and yellow Post-it note sit to the right of my apartment door when I head out to the office. The note says “Do not put weight on your ankle. Go to the doctor. Let me know what he says.”
Yes, sir, boss man. His thoughtfulness brings a smile to my face, but I can do without the domineering attitude. I roll my eyes. Southern men. They can be so overbearing. It’s the kind of note I’d have expected from my dad. Or from Evan. I cringe.
As I approach the door of the building to head out, Brandon charges toward me. “Anna. Here, I have these for you.” Crutches.
“Thanks so much, Brandon. Where’d you get these?”
“They were in the hall closet. Mr. Hendricks scheduled an Uber for you. It’s waiting outside.”
“What? He did?”
“Yes, he seemed pretty concerned. And he told me I have to make sure you get in the Uber, so you have to. Don’t get me in trouble, Anna.” He sounds like he’s almost begging, and I suppress a laugh.
Jeez. Is he scared of Jackson? He does refer to him as Mr. Hendricks, which strikes me as weird, but I’ve never said anything. All the doormen refer to him as Mr. Hendricks.
Thinking back, the first time any one of them called me Ms., I’d shut it down. No, thank you.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take the Uber. Thank you for the crutches. Whose are they?”
“I don’t know. They’ve been in the back closet since I started working here. They won’t be missed. When you don’t need them anymore, I’ll put them back.”
Brandon helps me out to the waiting white Prius. “Anna?”
“Yeah?”
“You really should go to the doctor.”
My swollen ankle and foot throb. I couldn’t tie my tennis shoe closed. I’m wearing a loose skirt because jeans or anything tight were a no-go. “Yeah, you might be right.”
He taps the top of the car twice to alert the driver to drive on, a big smile on his face.
I pull out my phone and snap a picture, then forward it to my brother.
Me: Think I need to go to the doctor?
Bobby: Where are you?
Me: In Uber headed to work.
Bobby: Come to ER at St. Vincent’s. I’m working today.
Bobby: What did you do?
Me: Fell when running.
Bobby: Come now. Probably a sprain but I can wrap it for you. Can you put weight on it?
Me: No. I’ll stop by the office. Then head 2U.
Bobby: It’s not busy. Come now.
I lean over to the Uber driver. “Can you change my destination? Can you take me to St. Vincent’s?”
With a perplexed expression on his face, he stares at the screen in front of him. Like he’s not sure what to push to change the destination address en route. Then he glances back at my crutches laying in the passenger seat next to him. He never tackles touching the screen, but mutters, “No problem.”
I text Bobby.
Me: I’m going straight to you. See you in a few.
Then I realize I’d better alert the team at work about the situation. I set up a group text to Delilah, John, and Margaret Weisner.
Me: Hi. I’m going to be a little late this morning. Fell running and have a swollen ankle. Headed to doctor and will be in after.
Delilah: Holy shit. U okay?
Me (private text to Delilah): It’s a group text!
Delilah: Sorry about that, everyone. Didn’t see the distribution.
Margaret: Let us know if you need anything, Anna. Delilah, please inform Anna’s team.
Delilah (private text to me): No group texting before coffee!
The driver pulls up to the hospital. Bobby’s standing outside the ER doors in his scrubs waiting for me. Like a good big brother, he’s at the car door before I can open it.
Bobby forces me to sit in a wheelchair. I’m wheeled to x-ray then to a private room in the ER. The x-ray doesn’t show any fractures or breaks. Bobby sits on a stool, ACE bandage in hand, and with a firm but careful touch wraps my ankle.
“This guy you were running with, he couldn’t help you get to the hospital?”
“Nah, he had to get to work. At the time, I didn’t think I’d need to see a doctor.”
“Who is this guy?”
I roll my eyes. Ever since Dad passed away, Bobby’s tried to step into some sort of protective dad role. “He’s a friend.”
“A friend you were out running with before work?” He’s done with the ankle wrap now and has my hands flipped over to study my scratched skin.
“He lives in my building. He’s been acting kind of like a running coach.”
He opens a bottle of clear liquid while repeating, “Running coach.”
Then he squirts the liquid on my hands, and I shriek. “Ow! What the...?”
He snatches my hand back and continues squirting the liquid goo. “Keep still. I want to clean this out. It looks like dirt’s still in there.”
I hide my hands behind my back and glare at him. He glares right back at me. “Anna Elizabeth, stop.” Bobby’s eyes meet mine, and we sit there glowering at each other until I burst out laughing. Jerk off.
A nurse walks in, and Bobby gives her the bottle. “Would you mind cleaning up my sister’s hands and knees?” He rolls his eyes, and his hand hovers near my waist. He wants to tickle me. Or maybe give me a wedgie. I shift closer to the nurse for protection, smirking at him. He grins and removes his plastic gloves. “As a general rule of thumb, when your foot is so swollen you can’t tie your sneaker, you need to go to the doctor.”
I laugh. “Thanks, brother dearest.”
I came in wearing a Birkenstock on my healthy foot and a sort of tied sneaker on my swollen foot. I pull the matching Birk out of my bag and test it on my foot. With the wrap, it should stay on.
“So, you’re not dating this guy?” Bobby asks while watching me play around with my footwear.
“Nah. We’re just friends.”
“Are you dating anyone?”
“No. Are you?”
He sighs and points at me. “Touché. But I’m a resident. Unless I meet someone at the hospital, with the same hours I have, dating’s tough. But you aren’t a resident.”
The nurse glances my brother’s way. She’s an older woman. I get the sense she wants to enter our conversation, but instead she finishes cleaning up my knee.
“Why this interest in my love life?” I ask my brother.
“I wouldn’t call it an interest.” He stands at the end of the bed, overseeing the nurse’s work. “We had a rough go of it, losing both of our parents in two years. I need for you to be happy. You’re my little sister. I want to watch out for you. Evan’s the last guy I remember you dating. Ages ago.”
“I’m fine.” I reach out to grab his hand and squeeze. The fresh wounds burn a little, but I don’t let go. “Really. I’m fine. I just haven’t had much interest in dating. Having a serious relationship so young kind of made relationships a low priority for me.”
The nurse finishes up on my knee, gives me a kind smile, and strolls out.
“I get that. I do. It felt like you and Evan were basically married.” He sits on the end of the bed. “It had to hurt when Mom and Dad sided with him.”
I exhale. “Yeah. It did. And I hate I never really set things straight with them. I always thought I had more time. Even after Dad died. But I’m okay. I have regrets. A lot of regrets. But I’m okay.”
Bobby pulls me in for a hug. “I’m here if you ever need me. You know that, right?”
“
Yeah. I do. And I’m super proud of you. Don’t worry about me, okay? You focus on becoming the awesome doctor you are destined to be.”
He grabs my ponytail and tugs. “Hey, you’re all I have. Don’t forget. If you need me, I’m here. You may have to wait if there’s been a fire or a shooting and I’m on ER rotation. But as soon as the crisis is under control, I’m yours, and I’m here for you.”
I pull him in for another hug. I hardly ever get to see him. Might as well make the most of it. “I love you. And do not worry. I’m good.”
He clasps my chin and forces my head up. “You’ve had one relationship. Try again. They won’t all be bad.”
“What about you?”
He heads to the nearby sink to wash his hands. “You think I want two dudes as roommates? If I could find a hot chick to date and live with while I’m a resident...well, it would be fucking awesome. Did you notice any of the ladies in this hospital when you came in?”
I actually hadn’t noticed anyone, but I crack up at his insinuation. “You’re saying the ladies in this hospital aren’t hot enough for my sexy bro?”
He lifts me and places me back in the wheelchair. “Time for you to get to work.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I tease.
“Look around. I’m not at a televised hospital in Seattle, am I?”
“Yeah, but I bet you’re Dr. McDreamy to quite a few of the ladies here.”
Before he can respond, a different middle-aged nurse named Sharon walks in. She tells Bobby he’s needed in another room. She must have overheard us.
After he leaves, she leans in and in a conspiratorial whisper says, “Trust me. If your brother wants to date, he can get a date.”
Interesting. Seems neither of the Daughtridge kids is eager to get trapped in a relationship.
I ENTER THE OFFICE on crutches. I’m hobbling down the hall when a hand rests on my shoulder. Nick. I cringe. “Anna, babe, what’d you do?”
I arch my shoulders in a get-your-hand-off-me kind of movement. He lifts his hand. I answer him as I continue down the hall. “I fell.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I venture away. My skin crawls.
Once I’m in my office, I close my door and pull out my phone. There’s a text from Jackson. In an instant, I’m smiling.
Jackson: How’s the patient?
Me: Good. Will need to take a couple of days off running, but all good. ;-)
Jackson: I’ll walk Chu.
Me: Thx. You are the best.
Me: Seriously, thx for today. And an Uber. Really? I can take care of myself. But thx.
Three dots appear and disappear on my phone. Repeatedly. I sit there staring at the phone screen. Waiting.
Jackson: Did you go to the doctor?
Me: Yes. My brother did x-rays. Sprain.
Jackson: Do you have dinner plans? Want me to pick something up after work?
So tempting. My ankle throbs. But I’ve got plans to go out after work with Delilah and Stacy. Back in high school, I canceled plans on friends so often they stopped asking me to do stuff. By senior year, it was pretty much the Evan and Anna Show. For years, if I went out, it was with Evan. I promised myself I’d never be that girl again. Never cancel plans for a guy.
This time, my throbbing ankle justifies a cancellation. And Jackson’s just a friend. But a promise to myself is an important one. I can’t break it. I don’t cancel plans. And canceling for a good-looking guy who somersaults my insides? It’s too slippery of a slope. Too much of a repeat. Not again. But I do have an idea.
Anna: Actually have plans with work folks. Want to join us?
Jackson: Yes. You need to stay off your ankle. Do not forget.
I did not expect that response. I expected him to say no. That’s what I’d expected.
Butterflies rumble in my stomach. Happy and nervous emotions whirl and collide. How annoying. Some girls love the so-called butterflies, but I’ve never been a fan. I don’t like being out of control. My body reacting against my will. Borderline nausea.
I tell myself it’s all ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. Jackson’s just a friend. A running buddy. He has no interest in a relationship. I have no interest in a relationship. We went down the dating path. Been there. Done that. So, stomach, calm the F down.
Chapter 12
Jackson
I head out for lunch and toss my hand up in a quick wave at Celeste, our receptionist, then stop when a shorter guy in khakis catches my eye. He’s hunched over reading his phone, his pants hem high so high colorful socks are on full display. Chase?
I step forward and kick his leg. The phone clatters across the floor, colliding with the wall, and the noise reverberates through the quiet of our lobby.
Anger flits across his face for the briefest of seconds before Chase jumps up and retrieves his phone. When he turns, head down, there’s a definite fear to his stance.
“Hey, man. Wanted to see if you could grab lunch.”
My mouth opens a bit. Is he out of his mind? “You thought I’d have time to grab lunch? On a random day? When it’s not in my calendar?” I shake my head in disbelief as I charge toward the elevator. The fucking prick.
He follows close on my heels. The elevator is packed with people headed out to lunch. We don’t speak until we make it outside.
“Hey, I’m sorry, man. This is the third day I’ve stopped by.”
I spin around to face him. “What? Is scheduling lunch beyond your skill set?”
“No! You won’t return my calls. Or my texts. I need to apologize.”
That does it. I grip his blazer and shove him against the closest wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the action garners a couple of spectators. I don’t give a damn. “Yes, you do owe me an apology. Best lay of your life, huh?”
“Fuck, man. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were dating her. I swear. I didn’t realize. I didn’t realize you’d give a shit.”
I push him hard, grunt, and break away. I head toward the deli across the street.
I get to the counter and order a tuna salad. Grab a coconut water. Pay and bump right into the lying prick.
I want to punch him, but he sticks his hands up in a defensive measure and begs. “Man, please. I don’t have a good excuse. It was a shit move. The only thing I need you to know is I didn’t know. I didn’t know it would hurt you. I didn’t know it would hurt Anna. I swear to god. If I’d known, I would have never. Never would I have done it. Ever.”
I stare at him. I’m a lawyer. As a lawyer, you develop a sixth sense for liars. For pieces of shit. What he did was shit. But, Chase, he’s not a piece of shit. He’s a friend. And he’s been a good friend to Anna. A good friend when she moved here and didn’t know anyone. And it was four years ago. If Anna can forgive him, so can I.
I grab him by his neck and take my fist and ruffle his hair, then stick my finger at him like I’m going to poke his eye out. “You ever do that fucking shit again...” I give him the look I hope communicates I’ll kill him. I hope it silently conveys my threat, because I’m a lawyer. No need to have that shit come back and bite me in the ass.
“Where’s your lunch?”
“I haven’t ordered yet.”
“Go get it. I’ve got, like, five minutes.”
As he’s ordering, I ask him to lift his pants leg. He squints like he’s not sure he heard me correctly, and I wave my hand upward. He lifts his leg. Superman and Wonder Woman are flying all over his socks. And I think I see a Yoda. A Yoda. His socks are a random collage of superheroes from various universes.
I roll my eyes and lead him to my favorite park bench.
Chapter 13
Jackson
Heading out of the office, I see the digital clock on my assistant’s desk and halt for a moment, staring in disbelief. Six-thirty on a Friday.
Guilt riddles my insides. I don’t want to build a reputation for leaving the office early. I inwardly cringe as I wave goodbye to people on the way out. All the first-y
ears are still at work in the cubicle farm. At least two partners type away on laptops as I head out. As a matter of course, I prefer to be the last to leave.
Images of Anna putting weight on her swollen ankle have been going through my head on repeat. She won’t take her injury seriously. Won’t use the crutches. By meeting her, I can insist we take a cab home and prevent her from navigating the subway.
I imagine Anna sitting on a barstool. Single men prowling around. An injured girl, plenty of openings for men to pick up a conversation. A sitting duck for any asshole to come up and play Prince Charming. Fuck that. I’ll leave the office early today. I can do it once.
As I open the door into Sullivan’s to meet Anna, my muscles immediately tense. My right hand balls into a fist. A tall, muscular, blond man leans into Anna, his entire body pressed against her side. One hand is holding a beer, and the other lies possessively around her back.
I stand frozen to the ground, trying to decipher what’s going on. What the fuck? Is she with this guy? If yes, I’ll leave. No way am I hanging around her and the guy she’s bringing home tonight.
As I stare, Anna leans farther away, almost turning her back to him. She looks like she’s trying to catch the attention of another woman standing by the dartboard. She looks uncomfortable, and that’s all I need to know.
As I head her way, Anna sees me, and her entire face breaks into a warm smile. “Jackson!” she shouts. Is she happy to see me or thankful for an escape?
I tread forward. She leaps off the barstool and hops toward me with one-legged jumps. She flings her arms around my neck when she reaches me. My breath catches as her breasts press against my chest and her arms slide from my neck to my shoulders. I run my fingers through her dark, soft, loose waves. My arms circle her in a hug, and her light lavender fragrance surrounds me. My tense muscles relax.
I watch the douchebag who had been crowding her. He remains at the bar with his beer in hand, a snide expression on his face.
She reaches up to angle my head down so she can whisper in my ear. “Will you do me a favor?”
