by Piper James
But I couldn’t say them if she refused to speak to me.
I checked my phone for the eight hundred and forty-seventh time. Growling, I called Ivy.
“Hey, Rafe,” she said when the call connected.
“Hey.”
“Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” she asked, concern lacing her voice. “Did you talk to Jessa?”
She was off last night, so she didn’t know about Jessa’s late-night visit to the E.R. She only knew that I’d been having a hard time since things ended between us. I explained everything to her, not leaving out a single detail. I told her what Jessa said, and how her words made me feel.
“I made the decision to talk to her today. I want to tell her I’m sorry. That I made a mistake, and I want to see where this thing between us goes…with no rules or restrictions.”
“That’s great,” Ivy said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “She’s good for you, Rafe. And I think you’re good for her, too.”
“She won’t answer the damn phone, Ivy,” I raged. “Won’t respond to my texts, either.”
“Okay, calm down,” she soothed. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Maybe you should try calling her,” I said, my tone dripping with desperation.
“What are we? Twelve?”
“Not helpful, Ivy,” I groaned.
“Sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound apologetic at all. “You’re flying off the rails, man. Get it together. If she won’t answer her phone, and you need to talk to her, what should you do?”
I opened my mouth to shout something—I wasn’t sure what—but groaned instead. “You think I should just go over there,” I sighed.
“Bingo.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“What’s not to know?” Ivy shot back.
“She won’t take my calls. She won’t respond to my messages. What makes you think she’d just answer the door, invite me in, and listen to what I have to say?”
“She probably won’t,” Ivy replied. “She’ll probably slam the door in your face, if she even opens it in the first place.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I deadpan.
“It doesn’t matter, Rafe,” she said, her voice filling with passion. “If you want her…if you care about her as much as I think you do, you can’t give up. Something like that—it’s worth fighting for. That’s all I’m telling you to do. I want you to fight.” I thought she was done, but before I could respond, she started speaking again. “Fight your fear. Fight your insecurities. And once you defeated them, go to Jessa, and help her fight hers, too. In the end, the reward will be worth the battle.”
I found myself smiling despite my earlier panic. “When did you become so insightful and wise about matters of the heart, Ivy Anderson?”
“Shut up. Now, go, and call me later. I’ll want full details.”
“I love you, Ivy,” I said.
“I love you, too. Talk to you later.”
She hung up, and I wondered why it was so easy for me to allow myself to love Ivy. It wasn’t romantic by any stretch of the imagination. She was like a sister to me. But still, I’d made time to cultivate that relationship when I’d spent my entire adult life refusing to entertain the prospect of romantic attachments.
I was too busy. My work was too important. My patients came first. No, Lola and Nate came first, then my patients. There was no room in my life for love.
And yet, I’d let Ivy in. I made room in my heart and time in my schedule for her. Why had I been so opposed to making room for a girlfriend? What had I been so afraid of?
I shook my head. The reasons didn’t matter, because no one before Jessa Maddox mattered. And now that I’d gotten a taste of what my life was like with her in it, I refused to let her go.
I toyed with the idea of trying to call Jessa again. Discarding the thought, I shoved my phone into my pocket and went in search of my keys. Ivy was right. I needed to show Jessa I was willing to fight for her.
For us.
By the time I pulled my car onto Jessa’s street, I was filled with fire and excitement, certain I’d be able to get through to her. Sure I could make her see we belonged together, and that we owed it to ourselves to give this thing between us a shot.
As I neared her house, all that certainty and excitement dissolved, leaving me feeling like an empty shell. Her Jeep, usually parked on the street out front, was gone, which meant Jessa was gone, too. I quickly rallied my resolve, though. Wherever she was, I would find her. Milestone was a small town. It couldn’t be that hard.
My first instinct was to drive around, looking for her Jeep at her usual haunts. Instead, I pulled into the driveway, parking next to a silver Mercedes I didn’t recognize. Greg obviously had company, and while I normally wouldn’t interrupt, this was too important.
I’d just have to beg forgiveness later.
I leapt from my car and jogged to the front door, pounding the side of my fist against the wood. The sound was loud and obnoxious, and I could hear Greg mumbling curses just before the door swung open.
“What the hell—” he started, cutting himself off when he got a look at me. “Dr. Walton.”
“Greg, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to speak to Jessa.”
One silver brow arched, but he didn’t say a word as he stepped to the side and motioned for me to enter.
“Thanks,” I said, stepping past him into the entryway. “Her car isn’t here. Do you know where I can find her? It’s really important.”
He led the way toward the living room, and I followed him like a lost puppy, begging for scraps. But instead of food, I needed information. Why wasn’t he speaking?
“Greg, please…”
Whatever I was going to say after that trailed off as my eyes landed on his guest. The man wore a three-piece suit like he was born for it. He stood up to greet me, sticking out a hand. I gripped it in a firm handshake, an automatic response with no thought behind it, while my mind spun in circles.
I knew this guy from somewhere. Artfully mussed blond hair, scruffy five o’clock shadow, piercing blue eyes…
My breath hitched as my mind put the pieces together. I had seen him before—in the coffee shop with Jessa at six thirty in the morning.
“Marshall Parker,” he said, his voice smooth with a hint of a cowboy twang.
“Rafe Walton,” I replied without smiling.
I released his hand, clenching mine into a fist at my side. My heart rate accelerated as I fought the urge to punch him in his pretty-boy mouth. I came here to find Jessa, not her…whatever this guy was to her. Which would be nothing if I had anything to say about it.
“Do I sense a note of hostility coming from you, Mr. Walton?” Marshall asked, cocking his head with curiosity.
“It’s doctor,” I corrected him.
“Definitely hostile,” he noted, his eyes flitting from me to Greg and back again. “Do I get to know how I earned it?”
“Greg, I need to find Jessa,” I said, ignoring the interloper.
“Ah, yes. The daughter,” Marshall said when Greg didn’t respond. “I’ve yet to meet her, but I hear she’s just delightful.”
I turned and took a menacing step toward him, but he just smiled without as much as a flinch. His lie, coupled with the not so subtle growl in his voice when he said the word “delightful” left me burning with anger.
“You’ve met her,” I hissed.
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Marshall replied, looking slightly perplexed.
“In the coffee shop,” I said, my eyes trailing to meet Greg’s. “At dawn.”
Greg’s eyes widened as he caught my meaning, then he did something I never expected. He started to laugh. His humor made me even angrier, which made him laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “It’s just,” he paused to jerk his head toward Marshall, “you think she hooked up with him?”
My eyes widened with confusion as Marshall asked, “Why is th
at so funny?”
“No offense, Mr. Parker, but you’re not Jessa’s type,” Greg said.
“Wait…coffee shop?” Marshall asked, his face lighting with recognition.
I prepared to launch myself at him if he so much as hinted that he’d slept with Jessa and forgotten her. I wasn’t a violent man, but I’d beat the shit out of this dude if it meant protecting what was mine.
Woah. Slow down there, buddy. She’s not yours…yet.
“You must have seen her with Max,” Marshall went on, “my twin brother.”
“Max?” I mouthed, barely a whisper coming out.
“Whom she had to meet with at an ungodly hour because he had an early morning flight to catch,” Greg supplied, his voice still laced with humor. “Marshall and Max are moving to town to open a new law firm, and they want to rent out The Bullpen for their grand opening party.”
“It was business?” I asked, feeling my face heat with embarrassment.
“One hundred percent,” Marshall said.
“Oh,” I said, scrubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “Sorry.”
He held up his palms. “No need to apologize. I can see you two need to speak privately. I’ll show myself out.”
“Send over your contract, and I’ll take a look at it,” Greg said, shaking his hand as he left.
I plopped down onto the couch and propped my elbows on my knees. Looking up at Greg, I apologized to him for my rudeness to his guest.
“Pshaw,” he said, brushing it off. “That was the best laugh I’ve had in weeks.”
“Yeah, at my expense,” I grumbled, but I couldn’t stop my mouth from curving up.
“Love will make you act like an idiot most of the time,” he said, growing serious as he sat in the chair adjacent to the couch.
“No one said anything about love,” I argued, feeling my hackles rise once more.
“Didn’t you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I don’t think so,” I said slowly.
“Didn’t you come racing over here to see my daughter, only to be devastated to find her gone? Didn’t you nearly sock a guy you didn’t know in the mouth because it sounded like he was insulting her? Don’t you feel like you’re dying inside, waiting for me to tell you where she is?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “All of it…yes.”
“Sounds like love to me,” he said, then sighed, shaking his head. “But I’m afraid you’re too late.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, straightening as my body filled with trepidation.
“She left this morning. She’s headed back to Atlanta. For good.”
36
Jessa
“Son of a bitch.”
I hopped down from the driver’s seat and slammed the door, kicking the tire as I moved to unlatch and raise the hood of the Jeep. I’d barely made it past the city limit sign when the engine started sputtering. I’d pulled over to the side of the road, hoping that whatever was making the engine misfire would clear up on its own.
But the damn thing just died.
Looking at the engine, I cursed again. I didn’t know what the hell I was looking at, much less looking for. Sure, I could check my oil and fill the window washer fluid, but that was about the extent of my car knowledge.
“That’s why I have AAA,” I mumbled, fishing my phone from my pocket.
The representative from roadside assistance promised to have a tow truck at my location within fifteen minutes. I thanked him and climbed back into my car to wait with Butthead.
Biting my lip, I stared at the phone’s screen. There were several notifications—missed calls, voicemails, and text messages—all from Rafe.
I tapped the icon to call my voicemail service, and the messages began to play.
“Hey, Jessa. It’s Rafe.”
I tapped the number seven, deleting the message before I could hear more.
“Jessa—”
Delete.
“Please talk to me.”
Delete.
“Jessa, please. I’m begging you.”
Delete.
Part of me raged against my actions, cursing my decision to delete the messages without listening to them. What would it hurt to hear him out? Maybe he was calling to beg me to come back to him…
“Yeah, right,” I muttered under my breath.
He’d made it perfectly clear that whatever we’d had going was over. He’d had his fun, and he was done…just like we’d agreed when we started. He was probably just calling to make sure I was okay after my emergency room visit last night. And he probably wanted to yell at me some more for not being more careful.
I knew how he felt about people drinking too much, and I knew why he felt that way. I didn’t blame him for being angry and disgusted, but I also didn’t need any more lectures about my personal safety.
Not from Dr. Walton. And that’s what he’d become—my doctor. Not my friend. Not my lover. Not my…whatever else he may have become if I hadn’t insisted on keeping things light and casual.
Pain throbbed in my chest as I thought about it. About him.
“And this is why I don’t let anyone get close,” I whispered, pulling up his text thread and deleting the whole thing without reading the messages.
I’d spent my whole life avoiding relationships so I wouldn’t have to feel how I was feeling right now. Depressed. Lonely. Abandoned. Like my father felt when my mother left us. Like I felt when I found out she didn’t want me.
The sound of an engine pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see a tow truck pulling off the road in front of me. The driver reversed to bring the backend closer to my front bumper, and I hopped out of the Jeep to go greet him.
Words painted on the side of the truck caught my eye, and I stumbled to a halt. The driver hopped down from the vehicle and walked toward me, a kind smile on his face. But I barely noticed it. I barely noticed him, at all.
I read the name on the truck over and over, hoping the letters would rearrange themselves.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” the driver asked.
I shook my head to clear it, pulling my incredulous eyes from the truck to focus on his face. He shot me a cute smile, but I was so rattled, all I could reply was, “Walton’s?”
“Yes, ma’am. Best shop in Milestone.”
“Can you take my car somewhere else?”
“Nate said you might ask that,” he said, that smile not wavering.
“Nate?”
“He said to tell you, and I quote, ‘Don’t be a dumbass, Jessa. I’ll fix it for free.’”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he held up his hands in surrender.
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he said, snickering. “I’ll get you all hooked up in a jiffy. Why don’t you get anything you need from the Jeep, and we can be on our way.”
It wasn’t until I was in the passenger seat of the tow truck, Butthead’s crate in my lap, and we were halfway to Walton’s that I realized the driver never gave me the option to go somewhere else. Just because Nate said he’d fix the problem free of charge didn’t mean I wanted to go there.
“How did Nate know it was me?” I asked as the question occurred to me.
“Your roadside assistance rep gave him your name when he called to request the tow. I’m Dane, by the way.”
He held out a hand, and I shook it. “Jessa.”
“I know,” he chuckled. “Rafe’s girl.”
My heart thudded to a stop when he said those words. “I’m not—”
“Sorry,” he said, cutting off my argument. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, cocking my head.
“Can you keep this between you and me?” he asked. I nodded, and he returned the gesture. “Nate’s my best friend, and best friends talk.”
I nodded again, agreeing with his statement. “And Nate talked to you about me?”
“Yes. Well, you and Rafe. See, Nate loves his brother, and he worries about him spend
ing every bit of his energy on other people while ignoring himself. There’s some history there, family events that caused him to be this way.”
“I know some of it,” I said.
“So, you can understand why Nate was thrilled when Rafe found you.”
“What Rafe and I had…it’s over,” I said, blinking back the sting of tears in my eyes. I was not going to cry in front of someone I’d just met.
“Is it?” he asked, his voice filled with doubt.
“Yes. I’m leaving town. Or I was until my car broke down.”
“Perhaps it was divine intervention,” he said, smiling as he kept his eyes on the road.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.
“Okay,” he said, his tone entirely too indulgent for my liking.
I clamped my mouth shut and stared out the window, unwilling to continue this line of conversation. I’d let Nate fix my car, for free, but I was not going to say another word about Rafe.
It just hurt too much.
37
Rafe
I almost didn’t answer the call. I was still in my car, where I’d parked it in the employee parking lot at the hospital fifteen minutes ago. I’d decided to come to work, despite not being scheduled, to see if they needed any help in the emergency room.
Throwing myself into work had always helped me forget my personal issues, and I was counting on that now. I needed to get my mind off Jessa and her impromptu departure, but I’d been sitting here this whole time, thinking of nothing but her. Wondering if I should get on the highway and follow her to Atlanta…or leave her alone to live her life the way she wanted to.
When my phone rang, a thrill had shot through me, only to be extinguished when I saw Nate’s name on the screen instead of the one I longed to see.
“Hey, Nate,” I said after tapping the icon to accept the call.
“I need you to come to the shop. Right now.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my scalp tingling with fear. “Are you okay? Is Lola okay?”
“I’m fine. This has nothing to do with Lola.”
