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Ouch. She was talking about Jason, of course. Because it was definitely my fault that he had found himself a more interesting woman in Norway. I nodded wearily. Whatever.
My drive to the grocery store was torturous. Whatever was going on with my ears made me feel off-kilter, and dimly, I wondered if I should be driving at all. Probably not. I pulled into a parking spot with my fender over the line and tires halfway into the adjacent spot with all the confidence of a drunk driver about to perform maneuvers. As I stumbled out of the car, I gave the lines an accusatory glance.
I remembered my mask, at least. Most people didn’t use them anymore where we lived, but I would hate for anyone else to catch my…cold.
I felt myself tilt sideways as I forced my feverish body through the blustery wind and to the sliding glass doors. Warmth enveloped me as I entered the store, but all it did was make me feel like I had been shoved into a kiln. I unwrapped my scarf, unzipped my coat, and tore it off, throwing it all in a cart. I didn’t need one, but I was pretty sure I’d fall over if I didn’t lean on something.
I scanned the enormous aisles with blurry eyes. When did they make grocery stores so huge? I didn’t want to run a 5K, I just wanted cold medicine and acetaminophen. With sore muscles, I forced myself forward, realizing that the pharmacy was all the way on the far left of the store.
Fan-fucking-tastic. My phone made a fart sound. There was only one human I had given a fart ringtone to, and I pulled it out of the pocket of my sweatpants with hollow dread.
Jason: Your mom says there’s a bandage on Calla’s head. What happened? I would really appreciate advance notice of injuries to our daughter.
I mimicked his stick-up-the-ass speech by pulling a face and muttering English-accented nonsense.Also, screw you, Mom.She was always talking to my ex-husband like she was the last remaining life link in our marriage that had long ago died and moldered in a damp grave. My fingers typed back heavily, shaking so badly that my typos were rampant.
Laurel: I gt sicf. Shes fin tho. She fell at dramatic
Laurel: *daycare
Jason: Major injuries require notice from the custodial parent. We talked about this. If you continue to ignore the terms of our decree, I’ll have to seek legal counsel.
My headache was suddenly so bad, I could barely breathe. I knew he said things like that to strike fear into my heart. I knew he did it becauseheknew I had no money to fight him in court. He knew my greatest fear was that a judge would decide he was a better parent for Calla than I was, that the money he made working for a slick computer tech company in Norway was more important than my paltry efforts at single motherhood. He did it because he had tricked me into the world’s worst DIY divorce when we were twenty-two years old, and he was well aware of what sent me spiraling into panic.
I had learned that angry words did nothing to combat Jason’s particular brand of assholery. Silence was a better tool.
I clicked the phone screen to black and shoved it back in my pocket.
Cold medicine.
Maybe it was the slithering, insidious feeling that entered my body every time I had to interact with my ex-husband, or maybe my body had finally had enough of my feigned ignorance about the severity of the illness, but black suddenly flashed over my eyes. I stumbled, my shoulder slamming into a shelf of Noodle-Os.
A couple of people gasped, and I felt strong hands on my arms. “Mrs. Brook?” asked a low voice.
Whoa. Why does that sound familiar?I froze, my eyes on the cans I had knocked to the ground. Hardly believing it was possible, I raised my swirling vision to the man who had reached out to steady me. I knew those eyes. Amber eyes that looked me over with sharp focus.No way,I thought with loopy bewilderment.
“Mrs. Brook?” Dr. Cade asked.
Holy sheep,I thought thickly. And then, somehow, the next words came out of my mouth for all to hear. “It’s the hot doctor.”
Four
Laurel
Humor crossed his beautiful features. Oh, God, his whole face, unmasked, was breathtaking. He had the most kissable lips I’d ever seen—light and dusky and pressing together as his expression shifted back to worry. He was clean-shaven. All-American. Pure perfection. He looked like fucking Captain America.
He frowned at me with assessing eyes. “Mrs. Brook? Are you alright?”
Maybe if I swooned a little more, he would pull me to his body. Wait, actually I was swooning. I felt my body lean like I was on a Tilt-a-Whirl. “I have a cold,” I barely managed to choke out.
He tilted his head, regarding me thoughtfully. “A cold?”
“Mhm.”
Dr. Cade had one hand grasping my upper arm firmly, and the other hand slid down to my wrist. I felt his fingers press the sensitive skin just below the heel of my palm. “I’m on-call for the hospital. I can take you there,” he said, as if testing the waters for my reaction.
“No,” I huffed, my breath hot and trapped under the mask. I started to extricate myself from his grasp. As much as Iintenselyliked the idea of him taking me pretty much anywhere, that wasn’t going to happen. I had maybe two-hundred dollars left in my savings account after paying for Calla’s stitches, and… what… eighty in my checking? Another hospital bill was not doable right now.
His grip didn’t budge. “You almost took out a row of—” he looked around me at the shelf, “—Noodle—Os.” He watched me closely, as if inspecting every blink and breath.
