by Kaylin Evans
I turn back toward the hospital and Ryder calls from behind me, “So are you.”
He’s right. I am full of shit, or at least, I used to be. Lately I’ve been feeling downright earnest, at least when it comes to Alyssa, and it scares the hell out of me.
21
Alyssa
It’s early evening as I walk home from the hospital a couple of days after my date with Sawyer. I’ve been spending a lot more time with him, going back to his place after work, eating dinner with him, fooling around. Who would have thought the arrogant, gorgeous guy who knows just how hot he is would end up being my favorite person?
But tonight Sawyer’s on call, so I’m on my own.
I stopped at Atomic Sub on my way home and I’ve been enjoying the sight of the sky turning a dozen shades of orange and pink as the sun sets over the mountains. Even though my sandwich is probably getting a little soggy, I take my time getting home. It feels peaceful out here, and at the same time, the air is charged with possibility.
Or maybe that’s just all the naughty thoughts going through my head whenever I think about Sawyer laying me down on a blanket beneath the stars.
That was one of the best dates I’ve ever been on, and hands down the most romantic thing a guy has ever done for me. And I didn’t even see it coming. My head’s still swimming a little at the thought, nearly a week later, and I catch myself smiling whenever I think about him.
At last, I meander up the sidewalk in front of the duplex, and my stomach’s starting to growl with thoughts of dinner.
Sometimes Hattie and Carl are sitting in rocking chairs on their porch, and whenever they are, I stop to say hello and see if there’s anything they need. They’ve got each other, but neither of them seem to have any younger relatives to do things like grocery shopping or changing lightbulbs in their apartment. I’ve become a sort of honorary grandchild, and it’s been nice having ‘relatives’ who aren’t greedy and don’t wonder what they can take from me.
Today, their half of the duplex is dark and instead of Hattie and Carl, I see someone else sitting outside our building.
On the concrete step in front of my door, my father is waiting for me. And my heart stops.
“Alyssa,” he says, jumping to his feet and holding his arms out for a hug. “There you are, I’ve been waiting for over an hour.”
Something twists painfully in my chest. How nice must it feel to get this kind of greeting from a parent who’s sincerely happy to see you? And when is the last time I’ve even seen my dad? It’s got to be over a year, probably more like two.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, walking right past his open arms. What I really want to know is how did you find me? but I guess that’s not as important as the fact that he’s standing on my porch right now.
“Can’t a man come and visit his eldest daughter?” he asks. “I missed you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “A man can, but it’s wildly out of character for you.”
I slide my key into the deadbolt, and immediately realize my mistake. He’s going to want to come in, and as much as I’ve tried to distance myself from him, I don’t think I can bring myself to slam the door on my father’s face. I should have turned on my heels and gone straight back to the hospital the minute I saw him here. I could have been on call with Sawyer, earned a little overtime. With any luck, my dad would have been gone by the next time I came home.
Did I do that, though? Nope.
“Can I come inside?” he asks. Yeah, just what I was trying to avoid.
I take a deep breath, trying to be as silent about my annoyance as possible, then step aside to let him in. He’s here now—clearly he knows my address. What additional harm could it do?
We go inside and I set my sandwich down on the kitchen counter, but I keep my purse looped over my shoulder. Nobody should ever have to be this suspicious over their own parent’s motives, but he’s stolen the petty cash from my purse before. I’ve got no reason to believe he won’t do it again.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” he says, his eyes sweeping hungrily over every single thing in the living area.
I can practically see the dollar signs floating above everything in his vision. TV—he could get fifty bucks at a pawn shop for that, even though it’s a cheap and relatively small one. Laptop—that’ll get him easily $150 even though I’ve had that thing since medical school. He even eyes my meager DVD collection, although I bet he’d be lucky to get a buck apiece for them.
“What are you doing here, Dad?” I ask again. I’m so hungry I keep eyeing the Atomic Sub bag, but if I take my sandwich out, he’ll probably want that too.
“You know, it’s not very nice to take off without even telling your family where you’re going,” he says. “For all I knew, you could have been dead.”
I have to struggle not to roll my eyes. If it even occurred to him that I might be dead, it probably wasn’t until he needed cash and started going down the list of people he could bilk. I hold all that inside, though, and say, “Taylor knew where I was.”
For a split second, I wonder if she’s the one who told Dad where to find me. But no, she wouldn’t do that to me.
“And yet your own father–”
“Ruined my credit and put me so deep in debt I had to take a job in the middle of nowhere just to try to dig my way out,” I finish the sentence for him. Screw it, I’m eating my sandwich.
As soon as I take it out of the bag, the aroma of warm roast beef wafts through the air and I’m salivating. My dad is, predictably, eyeing my food.
“Do you think I could get some of that?” he asks. “Just a couple bites.”
The old me would have said yes. The old me would have cut the sandwich in half because that’s what nice daughters do. But this me is hungry and sick of dealing with other people’s bullshit—especially his.
“No,” I say, taking a huge bite. With a mouth full of delicious lunchmeat, I add, “If you’re starving, there’s ramen in the cupboard.”
He doesn’t take me up on my offer. He’s not hungry—he just wants what I have.
He wanders a little closer to me while I make a too-enthusiastic a show of how much I’m enjoying my sandwich that I bought with my money. He gives me a sad puppy dog look, which I ignore. And then he says, “You know, only suckers actually pay their credit card debt.”
I drop my sandwich back onto the wrapper. “Excuse me?”
He just shrugs. “There are all kinds of ways to get out of credit card debt.”
“Oh, like bankruptcy? So my credit can be even worse than you already made it?”
“What is credit, anyway?” he asks. “Just a made-up number that the financial institutions can use to make goody two-shoes like you do what they want.”
Are you fucking serious right now? I want to scream at him. I also want to tell him that the idea of suing him has crossed my mind in the past, but ultimately I decided against it because I know there’s nothing the courts could take from him.
I clutch the counter hard enough to make my fingertips hurt. “What. Do. You. Want?”
He sits down at the tiny table in my eat-in kitchen, as if I invited him to get comfortable, and says, “I’m not here for me. I’m here for your sister.”
My sister, who has lately been struggling to make rent because of him. “Oh?” One syllable is all I can muster right now.
“She wants to go to college,” he says. “She’s been researching schools for months and we’ve got college pamphlets all over the house. She’s really got her sights set on Columbia.”
“Hah!” I actually cackle, my strained voice echoing off the walls. Of course he would choose one of the most expensive schools in the country for this fabrication—and there’s no doubt in my mind that’s what this is. “Is this like the time you told me she wanted to go to a private high school for the performing arts?”
Taylor has stage fright and she’s more likely to vomit and have a panic attack than get up in front of an audience.
“She wants to be a doctor?” I ask, my voice dripping skepticism.
It’s not that I don’t think Tay could do it. She’s plenty smart enough. But she’s never once mentioned college to me, let alone medical school, and even if that was something she wanted, she’d figure out how to get it for herself. We both learned that lesson pretty early on—if you want something, you can’t count on anyone else to help you get it.
“Neurosurgery,” my father says. “Isn’t that neat?”
“It is,” I agree. “It’s also March. Pretty late to be applying for colleges if she wants to start in the fall.”
“Yeah, well, she might go for a spring start next year,” he says, not missing a beat.
“Dad, I was not born yesterday and I’ve got you to thank for that,” I say. “I know you’re not here for Taylor. I highly doubt you’d drive more than fifteen minutes to help anyone but yourself.”
His mouth opens, and something cold overtakes his eyes. There it is—the self-serving monster that lives just beneath my father’s skin, that he tries so hard to disguise when he thinks he’s going to get what he wants. He stands up. “You’re a doctor, Alyssa. You’re doing better than everybody else in this family combined and you can’t help your own blood?”
I scoff. “Dad, I just finished my residency. This is the first job I’ve ever held where I’m even being paid fairly, and sixty percent of my income goes to my student loans and the debt you put on me. Besides, even if I won the lottery tomorrow, I wouldn’t give you a dime.”
His lips narrow into thin slits as he realizes that I’m shutting him down cold—for the first time in my life.
“Please leave,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Alyssa–”
“Now.”
He takes a breath, considers his options. And then he snatches what’s left of my sandwich off the counter and stuffs it messily into his mouth. Roast beef and bits of lettuce fly everywhere, and he’s got his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk as he says, “Fine, be that way!”
Then, thankfully, he turns and storms out of the apartment. The door slams behind him, and I brace myself on the counter. It felt good to stand up to him… and it’s also left me shaking, with a hefty dose of adrenaline running through my veins.
The bastard stole my sandwich!
Once I’ve taken a half-dozen deep breaths and had the chance to compose myself, I realize that’s a small price to pay. I go over to the window facing the street and peek out, praying I won’t find my father sitting on my porch. But he’s gone.
For now.
22
Sawyer
Alyssa and I made plans to meet up after work on Friday night. We’re going to give the whole ‘date night’ thing another go—Alyssa’s calling the shots this time—and I am equal parts excited and terrified about the fact that this is becoming a habit for us.
The last time I went on actual dates that weren’t just thinly veiled foreplay, I was in high school. And the last time I dated the same girl on multiple occasions with more in mind than just getting in her pants… Lord, has that ever happened? Alyssa is something special, though, and even though it scares the hell out of me, I find myself wanting to spend every spare minute with her.
Only, when I pull up to the duplex to pick her up, her car is in the driveway with the trunk popped and I see a couple of duffle bags and her coffee maker packed inside. What is this?
I’m just raising my fist to knock on the front door when it swings open and Alyssa steps onto the porch with a lamp in one hand and her laptop tucked under the other arm. She lets out a little yelp of surprise, then relaxes. “Oh, Sawyer, it’s you.”
“Umm, I know my idea to hike into the mountains was a little unconventional, but for the life of me I can’t imagine what kind of date involves a coffee maker and a table lamp,” I say.
She doesn’t even try to laugh. The best I get is a strained smile as she tries to pass me on the porch. “I’m sorry, Sawyer, I can’t go out with you tonight. I have to go.”
I watch, dumbfounded, as she loads the lamp and her laptop into the trunk of her car. On her way back into the apartment, I catch her in my arms and turn her to face me. “Hold on a second, will you?” I tilt her chin up until her eyes meet mine, and I see fear swirling in them. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to leave,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
Then she wrenches herself out of my grasp and heads back inside. I follow, standing near the door and trying to absorb all of this. The apartment is barren, all of Alyssa’s stuff packed up in trash bags and cardboard boxes. All the kitchen cabinets and drawers are open, like she cleared them out in a hurry, and all that’s left is the generic-looking living room furniture that came with the rental.
Alyssa is clearly freaked out and my own heart is racing just from wondering what happened to her, but I need her to stand still for a second and talk to me. So when she comes back toward me with her bedsheets balled up in her arms, I step in front of the door, blocking her path.
“Alyssa, stop,” I plead. “Tell me what’s going on.”
The dam inside her breaks, and a tear slides down her cheek. “My father found me.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah. He was sitting on my porch yesterday when I got home from work,” she says. “He wanted money—of course.”
“Did you give him any?”
“No,” she says. “For the first time in my life, I told him to take a hike.”
“That’s good,” I say. I want to pull her into my arms, but there’s at least a foot of plush bedding between us, so I settle for some encouragement. “I’m proud of you.”
She wrinkles her brow. “You are?”
Okay, now I need her in my arms. I take the bedding out of her hands and set it aside, then pull her to me. With her head against my chest, I tell her, “Yes, I am. I know we’ve only been coworkers for most of the time we’ve known each other, and not particularly friendly ones at that, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been admiring the hell out of you all this time. And now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I know that you are a strong, intelligent, kind-hearted woman. I also know that kind heart is probably making you feel guilty for turning your dad away, but it’s not wrong to stand up for yourself to people who are only trying to use you.”
She looks up at me, and her cheeks are wet with tears now. “You’re right… I do feel guilty. I know I shouldn’t, but he’s my dad.”
“He may be your father, but it doesn’t sound like he’s ever acted like a dad.” I wipe the tears from her cheeks, plant a kiss on her lips, and then I have to ask, “So, if you told him to get lost, why do you need to leave?”
“You know that scene from What About Bob where Richard Dreyfuss is like, ‘You think he’s gone? He’s never gone!’?”
I nod, seeing where she’s going. At least she’s still got her sense of humor.
“Well, that’s my dad,” Alyssa says. “Only instead of a lovable neurotic, my dad is more like a cockroach, or a blood-sucking leech.”
And there goes the humor. She’s right back to trying to struggle out of my arms so she can continue packing. “Hey, hey, hey,” I say, trying to keep her focused on me instead of packing her shit and disappearing into the night. “I get what you’re saying, but you can’t let him drive you away like this.”
“I don’t think you do get it, Sawyer,” she says. “Now that he knows where I am, and he thinks I have money because I’m a doctor, he’s not going to just go away. He’s going to find new and inventive ways to ruin my life unless I make it so he can’t do that.”
She must see the heartbreak written across my face because she finally just stands with me for a moment, letting me hold her. She puts her head down on my chest again, and I squeeze her tight.
“Look, I don’t like it either,” she says.
“I don’t want to leave my patients and the hospital and the life I’ve been building here… and I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave me either,” I say. If there was any doubt in my mind that I’ve been developing serious feelings for this woman, it’s gone now. And what I’m left with is regret. Why the hell did we waste so many months being rivals when we could have been lovers this whole time?
Alyssa meets my gaze and gives me a weak smile. “Look on the bright side. With me out of the way, you’re definitely gonna be the chief of surgery.”
I frown, shake my head. “Don’t talk like that. Like you’re already gone.”
She shrugs sadly. “I am.”
“No, you’re standing here in my arms,” I say, tightening my hold on her. “And I’m not going to let you go.”
Alyssa wraps her arms around me, her body moving against mine in a way that is both comforting and tantalizing. How can I be turned on right now, when I’m about to lose her?
She notices, her hips swaying and teasing my semi-hard cock into a full erection. She lets out a small, plaintive moan that only gets me hotter, and then she steps out of my arms. “I have to go, Sawyer.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess I need to find a new job, another hospital. Someplace further away this time.”
“No,” I say. I’m being entirely selfish right now, begging her to stay just because I don’t want her to go, but I don’t care. What Alyssa and I have been doing feels right—more right than anything has in a long time—and I’m not about to let it go without a fight. “Will you stay just a little while longer?”
She hesitates, just long enough to let me know she doesn’t really want to leave. So I press on.
“You can stay at my place,” I suggest. “That way you don’t have to worry about him coming back around here, bugging you. Stay until you’ve found a new job.”
