by J. P. Oliver
“Yeah, especially—well, you know.”
Since my dad’s refused to go through any sort of treatment.
“Right,” I huffed. “Like you said: stubborn and proud.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s glad that you’re back home at least,” she offered, legs crossing. “I mean, that counts for something. And who knows—it’s a slim chance, but people’s minds can be changed. If everyone nags him enough, maybe we can convince him to start treatment. It’s never too late.”
After a beat of silence, we both exchanged small, knowing looks. Markus Savage was stubborn as they came here in North Creek—Tennessee’s most unchangeable mind, my mother used to joke, exasperatedly—so the odds of him listening to anyone else’s opinion on his body were pathetically small.
“Right.” I rubbed gingerly at my temples. The room felt too bright.
“What’s up?”
“Huh?”
Sara nodded at me. “You got a headache?”
“Oh.” My lips split into a grin. “Yeah, sort of. I went out last night with Victor and woke up hungover, if you can believe it. Off of one goddamn drink.”
She made an amused noise, rolling to a cabinet on her wheely stool. After rifling around in it, she materialized a little bottle of ibuprofen and tossed it to me.
“One drink took down a big guy like you?”
“I didn’t say I passed out.”
“Take just three of those.”
I did as she said, swallowing them dry. “Thanks. And it’s not that strange, I guess. I hardly drink at all anymore.”
Not since Joe.
I didn’t need to say that out loud, but it left me wondering if Sara naturally inferred it. My mind traveled back to the night prior, when I’d shared drinks with my brother, pretending not to notice a certain someone on the other end of the bar….
Curtis.
Specifically, Curtis and Jared, which made no sense to me still. That same feeling of jealousy, fresh and irritated, sprung up in my chest remembering it: seeing them together and hearing Curtis’s earnest, lyrical laugh burst in the room.
God, he had a nice laugh, but hearing it in that context still ground my gears.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?” Sara asked, head cocking.
“I was wondering….” I fought through the irritation at myself for even wanting to ask. “About Jared and…Curtis. Are they, like…a couple, or something?”
I tried to keep the disinterest out of me voice—God, did I try. Keep it casual.
Sara, of course, saw right through it.
She threw her head back, the laugh literally bursting out of her. It filled the room and went on for way too long, my lips pulling into a dark grimace. She clearly found it hilarious, but I definitely wasn’t the least bit amused.
“Fuck it,” I huffed, standing. “Forget I asked—”
“No, no, no, no, Zach, c’mon. Wait.” She grabbed my wrist lightly as I headed for the door, grinning up at me. There were literally tears in her eyes. “No. They’re not a couple. They’re just friends.”
I hate that I felt relieved.
She let go of my wrist, wiping her wet eyes. “Whoo, that was a good one. Thanks. I haven’t laughed like that in ages—”
“Since when are they friends, though?” I asked. “Is that new?”
“No, not really. As far as I know, they knew each other since school, but when Jared lost his wife, they got a lot closer.”
“Shit.” Now I felt a little like an asshole. “How did she… I mean—”
“Cancer,” She scrunched her nose.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. He was out in…Nashville, I think? It was just him and his five-year-old little girl. He came back, just looking to put his life back together, I think. Curtis was there for him.”
Okay. Now I really felt like an asshole.
“Right, uh… thanks for telling me,” I said, because I really was thankful.
“No problem,” she hummed. “Jared’s not a bad guy. He’s not the same kid he was in high school—”
“Hey, Sara?”
Both of us froze as a precautionary knock sounded at the door. Sara looked at me, and for a hot second, I seriously considered leaping out the window because I just didn’t feel like dealing with this right now.
But that would have been an extreme reaction.
Sara rolled over and threw back the door. “Yeah, boss.”
Curtis poked his head inside, grinning.
At least, he was grinning until he noticed I was there.
Our eyes locked and I felt just a little bit lightheaded. We were just talking about him, and now here he was. In the flesh and looking… good. Like freshly showered and well-rested. And I could smell his cologne from here, a familiar scent that was woody and piney and expensive.
Curtis cleared his throat, turning back to Sara. “Can I speak to you about something?”
In private.
The words hung silently in the air, unspoken. Sara kicked off of her stool, nodding.
“Sure thing.” She held up a finger to me apologetically. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good.”
Sara shut the door behind her when they went, and I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding, lungs feeling just a little bit tighter after seeing him. I was alone. With my thoughts. Which were becoming increasingly complicated.
It was best to look at the facts.
One: I was jealous of Jared. That was abundantly clear from how I felt last night. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of their table, and when I saw them touch hands and heard Curtis’s bright laughter, well, I felt what I felt. Which meant I still cared.
Two: Of course I still cared.
Three: Jared and Curtis weren’t a thing. And Sara didn’t mention any other boyfriends or prospects, either, which meant there probably weren’t any.
Four: Maybe Victor was right about me getting my head out of my ass.
I pressed an ear to the door, and, through it, I could hear Sara and Curtis speaking to each other in the hallway. I couldn’t make out any clear words, just the sound of it. I waited until the conversation slowed a little before taking a breath and pulling back the door.
As I stepped into the hall, I caught the tail-end of them talking, hushed and quick, before Curtis noticed me. He looked at me over his shoulder, and as our eyes locked once more, I felt it. The flush through me, the warmth. Why did he have to still look so good? I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve him, but I still wanted him.
Behind Curtis, Sara shot me a devilish look, like she knew everything I was thinking. She pointed to Curtis silently and then made a little heart with her fingers.
I felt a blush break out on my chest.
I still love him.
With a shake of my head, I thought of our plans—our old plans. They were ridiculous, but looking at Curtis, they started to feel less crazy.
“Hey,” I said.
Curtis frowned. “Uh… hey?”
I looked at Sara. She wagged her brows.
“Can I talk to you a second?”
“Sure….” he said, not sounding very sure at all.
We took a little sideline a few steps down the hall. He was cautious of me, holding his clipboard to his chest. That clipboard felt like a wall. With the few inches I had on him, he tipped his head up a little to look me in the eye.
“Okay?”
I cleared my throat, realizing I’d been staring. Breaking our eye contact, I rubbed the back of my touch-hot neck. “So, uh… I was wondering, if you aren’t busy later—I don’t know when you guys close, but would you like to grab dinner? Or something?”
6
Curtis
Dinner? He’s asking me to have dinner…?
I watched him turn his gaze away as if he was bashful; it was a flickering piece of the Zach I used to know. With a stumbling start, my heart began to beat just a little faster in my chest, uselessly hopeful for the first time in a long time.
/> I didn’t know if I could trust this, but it was obvious—to myself, to everyone—that I still had feelings for him. We had history. From the moment I met him, I knew I’d never be able to deny Zach anything. He’d just smile and flash those dimples, and I’d be a puddle at his feet. It was the reason I’d gotten my heart broken the first time, and the reason why it’d break again when he inevitably left North Creek again.
The world, for that brief second, felt like it was as big as the two of us.
We were close. Not close enough to confuse as being intimate, but closer than we had been in a long time. I could smell the soap he used in the shower that morning from where I stood, the scent spiced and making me a little warm. Instinctively—traitorously—my eyes flickered like a candle to his mouth. I opened my own to say—something.
But he wasn’t looking at me anymore.
I watched Zach’s mouth pull into a frown. He stood a hair taller, a touch tenser. Belatedly, I registered that the front door had opened behind me, and I whirled around to see a man in a suit approaching, asking, “May I speak to Curtis Walker?”
Duty calls.
I cleared the flush out of my throat, stepping up to the front. Sara made no move to greet him, and I could feel the distaste radiating off of her from where she lingered in the hall.
“That would be me.” I tucked my clipboard under my arm and held out my hand. “Curtis.”
“Ah! Finally,” the man said, smiling. He shook my hand with a lot of enthusiasm. “I’m glad to finally get a hold of you, Mr. Walker. You’re a surprisingly difficult man to speak to.”
I huffed, trying to be politely amused, but ultimately I was just confused.
“Am I?” I asked. “Most of my time’s spent here, so I can’t imagine I’m that hard to track down.”
The man hummed, grinning. He wasn’t a face that I recognized outright, which meant he wasn’t from around these parts. There was always the possibility that he was an out-of-town relative to someone, or just a new face in north Creek, but I got a sense of impermanence from him. He was average height with impeccably groomed brown hair and a smile that reeked of phony business—like the kind a car salesman might give you when he was about to scam you. His suit had the air of being expensive, but, looking at it, was made of cheap material and he slowly filled the room with a cologne that smelled… off.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Your name is?”
“Oh! Of course,” the man laughed. “Edward. Edward Morris.”
Edward Morris. Where have I heard that name before?
“And you are?” Edward asked, gesturing to Zach.
“Isaac Savage,” he introduced, decidedly not going in for a handshake. Glancing at him, at the tense cut of his jaw, I got the sense that Zach didn’t trust Edward as far as he could throw him—a feeling that was mutual.
“If you’ve got a moment, Mr. Walker—can I call you Curtis? Curtis, if you’ve got a moment,” Edward schmoozed, “I’d love to speak to you briefly about the land your house is currently sitting on—”
Oh.
That Edward Morris.
The polite, bedside smile slid off my face. “I see.”
“Here,” Edward said, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “This is the number I’ve estimated your land to be worth. I’d always be willing to negotiate—”
“How do you know where I live?” I asked, lips twitching into a frown.
Edward paused, laughing lightly. Snakishly. “It’s a matter of public record. North Creek Yellow Pages. Anyone can buy one—”
“Look,” I interrupted, knowing where this was going. “I see where this is going. I know exactly who you are. You’ve already got quite a reputation around North Creek, Mr. Morris, so I’d appreciate it if you made yourself scarce around this clinic from here on out, unless you’re in need of medical attention. I’m afraid I’m not interested.”
Zach looked between the two of us, scrutinizing, trying to decode where the sudden cool animosity had come from.
“What?” Edward flourished the paper. “You won’t even take a look at it? It’s a handsome sum—I’ve seen your land myself, and you could easily ask for—”
“You’ve been to his property?” Zach asked, dubious.
“Let me make myself clear,” I said, not liking his pushy tone or salesman smile “I am not—nor is anyone else—interested in pawning off their land to someone looking to develop a brand-new hospital. We don’t want your business or what’s sure to follow. Let me guess—you thought we’d have no instinct. You thought we would hear the words new and investment and growth, and that we’d roll over, happy to sell for the good of the town. What you didn’t account for was that we are not hicks. We know what’ll happen to North Creek because we’ve seen it happen to other towns all over this country, when they let corporations buy up the land, so I suggest that you leave, Mr. Morris—not just my clinic, but this town, before you wear out your welcome.”
Behind me, Sara hummed happily, entertained. Zach’s lips twitched into a surprised little grin. Edward’s face twisted. He was clearly annoyed; salesmen don’t easily take no for an answer. That irksome twist in his lips returned in the form of a cheap smile.
“Is that a threat, Mr. Walker?”
“No,” I said. “We don’t make threats here.”
We make promises.
“The economy of North Creek would grow exponentially. Like you said yourself: for the good of the town.” Edward smirked. “It’d be new equipment, better facilities, new jobs, it’d get the money going. Sure, some folks might move on in to work, but this isn’t the place to build a city. It’d be good business. Besides, don’t you think it’s a bit big of yourself to speak on behalf of the town?”
“Speaking as someone who’s family with half the town,” Zach interjected, growing tired of Edward’s tactics, “I’m sure they’d side with Dr. Walker.”
“Of course,” Edward chuckled, glancing at each of us, “why am I talking to you about it? You’ve got instinct, Mr. Walker. Remind me, which college did you attend for economics?”
God, he’s a prick.
I sighed, no longer interested in arguing with a petty salesman.
“If you have no medical reason for being here, Mr. Morris,” I said with a dismissive wave, “then get out of my clinic. My answer is no.”
“Mr. Walker,” he huffed, “take a look at this paper. Here, I want you to take it—”
“No, thank you.”
“It’s just a goddamn piece of paper—”
“He said no.”
The whole room paused as Zach stepped past me. He was tougher than any of us, more physically imposing. A literal Navy SEAL. He had dimples, sure, but he also had a scowl that could scare off hardened idiots like Edward Morris, and the muscle to back it.
“Excuse me?” Edward said, slick and grinning. “Was I speaking to you? I do believe this is none of your business—”
“You don’t know who he is, do you?” Sara asked, entertained by the exchange. She shook her head and went back to chewing on her pen. “You’ve been in North Creek and haven’t heard the last name Savage? Do better research, hon.”
“I’ve heard the name,” Edward sneered.
“North Creek isn’t for fucking sale,” Zach said. “He’s too polite to say it outright, but I’m not: North Creek is just fine without you or this bullshit hospital, so do us all a goddamn favor: turn around, pack up your shit, and leave.”
I felt a complicated flare in my chest: one that found his assertiveness really hot, and one that reminded me Zach could be a hothead. This probably needed to be de-escalated before it got out of hand.
I opened my mouth to intervene—
—but then Edward opened his.
“Didn’t realize the clinic had a guard dog,” Edward said, winking. “Personally, I think an actual security team is more reliable, but he’s a cute feature—”
And then Zach pushed him.
It wasn’t a hard, bowl-you
-over sort of push. It was the tough guy type; the macho let’s go, let’s take this outside sort of push, a hand on Edward’s upper shoulder. It was a suggestion of a real fight.
It was also enough to start a real one.
“Hey,” Edward huffed, all fake smiles, “don’t put your fucking hands on me, man—”
“Get the fuck out of here. Man.”
“You gonna let this meathead push me out of here?” Edward asked of me.
“Zach,” I started.
“He told you to leave,” Zach said, advancing, intimidating.
“Go on and call the fucking police then,” Edward said, caving. He raised a hand, and I felt my stomach drop, knowing he was going to hit back; big mistake. Huge.
It all happened so fast after that. It was like a rubber band snapping, built up energy exploding kinetically. As soon as Edward made a pass at pushing Zach back, Zach’s temper let him take a full swing. I couldn’t blame him—what with Edward’s goading and inability to understand the meaning of the phrase get the fuck out of here—but it wasn’t okay.
Edward gripped at Zach’s shirt, tugging him down. Zach made a move to get him off. Edward swung and nicked Zach, but Zach was bigger. Sturdier. He could take a punch as easily as he could throw one, which he did, landing square on Edward’s chin.
Sara shouted at them to stop.
I stepped in to pull Zach back, to split up the fight, but as I went in, Edward’s trajectory changed, and his fist collided with my cheek hard and fast. I felt the streak of pain and the dull throb as I pushed away from him.
Zach growled. My vision spun slightly, and, as I blinked away the pain, I saw him literally take Edward by the back of his shirt and shove him out the front door.
Edward rolled hard in the dirt of the parking lot. He pulled himself up, dusting off his cheap suit.
“Get out and fucking stay out,” Zach called.
Sara rushed up to me with an ice pack, her touch making me jump. “Holy shit, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I huffed. “Y-yeah, yeah. Just a little—y’know.”
Edward, with his bruised chin and evil little eyes, sneered at us through the open door.
