When she’d turned from where her head had been pressed against the wall, almost as if for support, her face had been pale, her eyes glassy, her expression almost sallow. As if she were ill.
Walk away, he repeated.
Only, he couldn’t not check on her. He was a doctor. She obviously wasn’t feeling well. He might do his best to avoid her, but what kind of person ignored when one of his colleagues was sick?
Going to their clinic’s break area, he got a glass of water and a pack of crackers. Maybe she hadn’t eaten anything that morning and just needed to get a little something in her stomach.
Maybe he was ignoring the obvious, that McKenzie had not been having a hypoglycemic attack in the clinic hallway.
Something more had been wrong than her needing food.
He’d do the right thing. He’d take her the water, make sure she was physically okay, then go back to barely acknowledging her existence.
It’s the same as he’d do for any coworker.
Only when he knocked on her closed office door, she didn’t respond.
Walk away. Walk away. Walk away.
Why wasn’t he walking away and just minding his own business?
“I brought a glass of water and some crackers for you,” he told her through the door.
Although he hadn’t realized it when they’d met, when he’d looked at her and felt something deep in his gut he’d never felt before, there had always been barriers between them.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Nothing.
He turned to leave. She obviously didn’t want to talk to him. He’d done his duty, tried to show common courtesy by getting her a drink and the crackers and she’d not even had the same common courtesy to respond.
What if she hadn’t been able to respond?
The question hit him hard, punching him in the gut, and stalling his feet. What if she’d gone into her office and something bad had happened?
She’d looked as if something was really wrong, had been leaning against the wall for support and been pale as a ghost. Had she gone into her office and passed out?
He knocked on the door again. This time brisker and with more urgency.
Nothing.
“McKenzie, open up.” Because the more his brain raced, the more he knew he couldn’t just walk away without making sure she was all right. He had to know she was okay even if it meant later being accused of overreacting.
Her office door could be locked. If so, he’d break in or get help.
“If you don’t answer, I’m coming in to make sure you’re not passed out on the floor.”
* * *
What was Ryder’s problem? McKenzie wondered as she lifted her head off her knees and tried to get her blurry eyes to focus on the room around her. He’d barely acknowledged she existed for months and today of all days he felt the need to make sure she wasn’t passed out on the floor?
“Go away.”
There. She’d answered. He could leave.
“I brought you water and crackers,” he repeated.
“You can have them.”
Water and crackers weren’t going to solve her problems.
“I’m not going away until I make sure you’re okay.”
Ugh. If he was waiting on her to be okay, he might be there awhile.
She would be okay, she told herself again. Eventually. Hadn’t she been after Clay had broken her heart? Sure, it had taken a long time and meeting and falling for Paul, but she had recovered from Clay’s blow to her heart.
She had experience in recovering. This time shouldn’t take nearly as long to get back on her feet, to make the pain in her chest go away, to not want to burst into tears at every sappy song on the radio.
Yeah, she was a pro at this getting dumped and would be shaking off Paul’s wanting time apart. No big deal.
“I’m not leaving, McKenzie. Open up.” He knocked on the door again.
Ugh. He was making so much commotion in the hallway he had to be drawing the attention of their colleagues. She could do without everyone there knowing she was Paul’s yesterday news.
She stood from where she had been crouched on the floor, wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and told herself she had this. That Ryder was just a man. A gorgeous man who’d probably never been dumped, but, still, just a man.
She didn’t bother forcing a smile to her face because she wanted him to know she didn’t appreciate his concern. Perhaps she should, but at the moment she just wanted to wallow in her pity a few minutes.
“What is your problem?” she asked as she flung the door open. Okay, so that hadn’t been very nice of her, but he was seriously butting into her business and she just wanted to be left alone.
Seeming stunned by her irritation, he held the water and package of crackers out to her. “These are yours.”
“Fine. I’ll take them.” She did just that, taking them from him. “You can go now.”
“I... Okay, I will.” He studied her face.
McKenzie lifted her chin, almost daring him to say something. Yes, she had been crying. Yes, she knew her eyes were swollen. Yes, it embarrassed her that he was seeing her this way.
“Is there anything I can do?” he surprised her by asking, deflating her false bravado.
“I... No, there’s nothing you can do.” Nothing anyone could do. Either Paul loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her or he didn’t. Embarrassed that Ryder was seeing her when she was so dejected, when she knew her eyes were red rimmed from crying and that she likely had mascara running down her cheeks, she forced a weak smile to her face. “I had a long night on call at the hospital and didn’t get much rest. This morning has had a few unexpected things come up.” To say the least. “Thank you for the water and crackers.”
It was nice of him to get them for her when he hadn’t had to. She must have looked really bad for him to have felt the need. If he’d wanted reassurance on that, she doubted she looked any better after her mini-boohoo-fest.
“Truly.” She mentally willed the corners of her mouth upward again. “I’ll be fine.”
With that she closed the door, leaving him on the other side, and her knowing she had to get her act together to make it through the rest of her day.
If Ryder, who didn’t even like her, had shown such pity, her friends would be holding an intervention.
She’d wash her face, repair her makeup, and, should anyone ask, she’d blame any remaining puffy redness on her hospital on-call shift. Tonight, in the privacy of her home, she’d give rein to her broken heart.
Copyright © 2020 by Janice Lynn
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ISBN-13: 9781488066627
Healing the Vet’s Heart
Copyright © 2020 by Annie Claydon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Healing the Vet's Heart Page 18
