by Janice Lynn
Taken aback at her comment, he asked, “Why on earth would I be miserable if I moved to Warrenville?”
Then it hit him, threatened to knock the wind from his chest and buckle his knees. “You’re not going to be there, are you?” He could smack himself in the head. “All this to be with you and you’re going to be gone.”
Her lips parted, her expression brightened. “You’re moving to Warrenville to be with me?”
He nodded. “It’s not the town that made me homesick, Taylor. It’s not being with you.” He looked her straight in the eyes and told her what was in his heart. “You are what makes Warrenville home. You are home.”
* * *
Taylor could stand it no longer and closed the short distance between her and Jack, practically throwing herself into his arms.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
She wasn’t sure if she said the words or if he did, just that he lifted her off her feet and hugged her to him.
“I don’t want you to get heavy feet, Jack,” she told him, placing her palms on his cheeks and staring up into his eyes. “And, I sure don’t want to be what weighs you down. Not ever. That’s why I’m leaving Warrenville. I want to be with you, wherever you are.”
“Then I guess you’re going to be spending a lot of time in Warrenville.”
“We don’t have to stay there. I’ll go with you. Really.”
“That’s not going to work. I’ve a farm to take care of.”
“What?” Then it clicked, and her jaw dropped. “It was you who bought the farm, wasn’t it?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I live a simple life. The farm was a good investment. Besides, I have a lot of good memories at that place.”
“But...why would you buy it?” She couldn’t even begin to imagine what the farm had cost him.
“Because I have to have somewhere for us to live.”
“You want me to live there?”
Snorting, he ran his fingers through what was left of his hair. “I thought I had a few more days to plan this, to come up with something grand to convince you to say yes.”
Taylor’s heart missed a beat.
He took her hands into his. “I want you to live at the farm with me, Taylor. Or wherever it is you want to live. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”
“Jack,” she whispered, fighting back moisture that was prickling her eyes.
“Say yes, Taylor. Tell me you’ll live at the farm with me.”
His words about his grandparents blasted through her head and the thought of the farm becoming a gilded cage that locked away his free spirit tore at her.
“No, Jack. I won’t.”
* * *
Jack’s ears roared. He’d thought...no matter what he’d thought. Obviously, he’d misunderstood.
He let go of her hands but she grabbed hold of his.
“I came here to find you, Jack, to tell you that wherever you are is where I want to be.” Her eyes searched his. “We don’t have to live at the farm or even have four walls of our own. So long as I’m with you, that’s what matters.”
He’d botched this. Then again, he really had thought he had longer to figure out what to say to her, to figure out what he was going to do next.
“I love you, Taylor.”
Like that. He hadn’t planned to just spit those words out. Had he had time to plan, he’d have come up with some elaborate way to have told her, some special way that a woman like Taylor deserved.
Her eyes widened, then softened as a smile lit up her face. “That’s why I’m here, Jack.” She placed both palms on his cheeks, cupping his face. “Because I love you, too.”
“You do?” His ears had to have heard wrong. He’d known she cared, known they were good together, but he hadn’t let himself dream that she might love him.
“Don’t act as if you aren’t fully aware of how I feel about you, Jack Morgan, because you know I love you.”
Had he? He’d not outright thought it, but maybe she was right. Part of why he’d bought that farm was because Taylor loved him and only a fool would let that love go to waste.
Especially when that love was reciprocated a hundred-fold.
“I’m not just the rebound sex guy?” he teased, running his fingers into her hair to caress her.
“Oh, you’re the rebound sex guy,” she assured him. “But you’re also my forever sex guy.” She studied him. “My forever everything guy. If you want to be.”
Jack brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. “For the record, I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“There you go making me wonder if you’re for real again,” she accused as she stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
Kissed him for now and forever after.
EPILOGUE
TAYLOR WASN’T SURPRISED to see the group of guitar-picking men in front of her tent at the Rockin’ Tyme music festival.
At the end of their shift in the medical tent, she and Amy had gone to wait in the shower line then wash away the day’s grime.
Duffy nodded in acknowledgement of their return but kept singing about mommas and cowboys.
Taylor leaned over to kiss the top of Jack’s head, brushing back a stray shoulder-length hair that had escaped his man-bun as she did so, then sat in the chair next to him to watch them play. With the songs she recognized, she sang along. Loud and carefree and full of enjoying herself. When Jack finished singing a number, she let loose with applause.
Duffy shook his head and gave a pretend disgruntled sigh. “Same groupie two years in a row.”
“Same groupie rest of my life,” Jack corrected, causing the rest of the gang to launch into good-natured ribbing.
Taylor smiled. The past year had been amazing. She and Jack had moved into the farmhouse. They’d both taken PRN positions at the hospital. She went with Jack on most of his events, working at the ones she could get hired on with, and just attending the ones that hadn’t needed another nurse. Her favorite so far had been car racing. She’d loved that boisterous crowd.
They’d found a happy balance of white picket fence and adventure.
Jack nurtured her need to dig, to carve away years of toxic layers to uncover who she was inside. Nurtured and, much as she did with her clay, helped her discover who she was and to embrace that woman.
Who she was loved him with all her heart.
Lost in thought, she’d missed that Jack had set his guitar aside until his getting down on one knee caught her eye.
“Jack?” Heart racing, she asked, “What are you doing?”
“What’s long past due,” he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Her blood pounded through her veins.
“Will you marry me, Taylor?”
“Jack?” She could barely breathe and his name came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.
“Because you are the greatest adventure of my life,” he continued, his eyes warm, reassuring, happy. “And I can’t imagine my world without you at my side.”
That he’d so perfectly echoed what she’d just been thinking, what was in her heart, Taylor couldn’t hold back the moisture stinging her eyes.
“Yes!” She nodded. “Oh, yes.”
“’Bout time,” Duffy piped up from behind Jack.
Amy nodded her agreement. Everyone around them clapped and gave their approval as Jack stood, pulled Taylor to her feet.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her.
“I’m glad,” she whispered back when their lips parted. “So very glad, because you’re my greatest adventure, too.”
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out
these other great reads from
Janice Lynn
Friend, Fling, Forever?
Heart Surgeon to Single Dad
/> A Surgeon to Heal Her Heart
A Firefighter in Her Stocking
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Pregnant by the Single Dad Doc by Louisa Heaton.
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Pregnant by the Single Dad Doc
by Louisa Heaton
CHAPTER ONE
WITH HER NOSE almost pressed up against the glass, Ellie stared at the row of incubators. Inside babies, some no bigger than the palm of her hand, lay covered in wires, tubes and nappies and hats that seemed far more suited to bigger, stronger babies. Dwarfing them even more.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth and her throat were dry. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her legs were feeling as though if she didn’t sit down within the next ten seconds she was going to collapse.
Ellie pressed her hand to the glass to steady herself, trying not to look at the faces of the parents who sat by each baby. She didn’t want to see the pain on their faces and be reminded of her own grief. At least these parents still had hope.
Being here was bad. But it was something she was just going to have to get through if she wanted to achieve her dream of becoming a doctor. The university had placed her here—in the NICU. The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Queen’s Hospital. So she didn’t have a choice.
It was just a few weeks.
I can do this.
This part of the hospital had been nicknamed ‘The Nest’, because all the premature babies looked like scrawny, pink newborn birds. Here they got rest, warmth, food and protection, in the hope that one day they’d fledge and leave The Nest to go to their new homes with their families.
This was a place of hope. These families would not do well if they sensed her fear, so she turned away from the glass and sank down into one of the chairs as she awaited her mentor, Dr Richard Wilson.
She’d spoken to him on the phone just last week. He’d sounded a kindly old chap. Patient, sympathetic, friendly. Which was nice, considering some of the other mentors she’d been paired with during her training. He’d spoken to her at great length about what he hoped she would get from her placement with him, where she was in her training, what year of study she was in, which wards she’d worked on before, what he would expect from her. All standard stuff, but he had sounded different. Like a kindly grandfather.
She’d almost considered telling him about Samuel, but her nerves had got the better of her, and she hadn’t been sure she’d get through it without crying, so she’d decided to delay until she’d been here a while and could judge the best time to tell her story. Because he would be bound to ask questions about it. He’d want to know about her experience as a patient. What had driven her to make the choices she faced today.
Finding it hard to swallow, she dug in her bag for her bottle of water, rummaging past all the other items. Phone. Purse. Tissues with a soothing aloe vera balm in case she lost control of her tears and didn’t want to look like Rudolph afterwards. Pens. Notebook. A 2014 copy of the BNF that a kindly pharmacist had given her free of charge. It listed all drugs and medicines, what they were used for and what their interactions were, and she didn’t want to look stupid. Tampons, just in case, a packet of painkillers and emergency chocolate...
Ah! The water bottle.
She struggled to open the lid, almost burning her palm as it came unscrewed, and then she took a giant swallow.
That’s so much better.
Putting the lid back on, she stashed it in her bag and checked her appearance once more. She wanted to make a good impression on Dr Wilson. Show him that she meant business and that she was here to learn and get the most from her placement—even if this department did scare the hell out of her.
She sat there trying to steel herself, knowing that if she could just get through this first day, then the next day would be easier. And the one after that. And then she’d get into the flow. Perhaps see that this place wasn’t as scary as she believed it to be. She would get past this placement and look back at her time on it and laugh that she’d been so scared in the first place!
It was ridiculous, the state of her nerves! Allowing herself so get so worked up.
It’s stupid. It’s—
‘Ellie?’
She heard incredulity in a man’s voice and turned to see who’d recognised her, expecting it to be a case of mistaken identity. But it wasn’t. Not at all.
Shocked, she got to her feet. ‘Logan?’ Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes. Old, painful memories whizzed by at the speed of light. Was it really him?
Her brain scrambled to try and work out how long it had been since they’d last seen each other, but her mind couldn’t compute and the numbers remained unreachable. Was she overjoyed? Yes. Was she apprehensive? Oh, yes. It had been years. Years since she had last seen him and he’d broken her heart by telling her that he thought it best if they were just friends.
Did I ever really get over you? No.
He’d devastated her that day. Had ended all her dreams of the future back then. But perhaps that had simply served to begin making her who she was today. Stronger. More independent. Perhaps she should thank him for that first strike against her heart? It had made her ready for all the others.
Physically, he looked different. Changed from the gangly youth of their teens into a broader, more solid-looking man. Wider at the shoulders, with a squareness of jaw that was now more pronounced. The years had been good to him and he’d clearly thrived without her.
Would he look at her and think the same? Probably not. She wasn’t the entrepreneur she’d always said she’d be. She wasn’t at the top of some corporate ladder, wearing a power suit and waving a platinum card. She’d gone back to the beginning. Was a student again. She was on the bottom rung of the career ladder when she’d always aspired to be at the top.
She noticed he wore a name badge clipped to his belt—a sign that he worked in this hospital, identifying him as a member of staff. A doctor, of course. He’d left her behind to become one. His father was an oncologist, his mother had been... She struggled for the memory. Oh, yes. An obstetrician. When Logan had left her to pursue his dream of medical school she hadn’t known what speciality he wanted to pursue. She hoped it wasn’t this one.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, hoping he was just passing through. Maybe he was dropping off some notes for a patient and then he would be gone again. Hopefully to work in the department that was furthest from this one. Gerontology, perhaps?
‘I saw the name in the diary, but I didn’t think it would be you.’
In the diary? Why
was he looking in the department’s diary? Surely that was private to Dr Wilson and his staff?
A sense of dread began to filter its way into her body, but she didn’t want it to show on her face. She looked up and down the corridor, past the black and white artistic photographs of babies, past the noticeboard filled with old notices that should probably have been taken down years ago. Looking—hoping—to see Dr Wilson appear.
Perhaps if she concentrated really hard she could magic him up?
But the corridor remained resolutely empty and she turned back to face Logan, her cheeks hot, smiling politely. ‘I’m here for Dr Wilson.’
Logan nodded. ‘You’re the new medical student?’
Her smile was almost a rictus, and she couldn’t stand there talking to him any longer because it hurt too much already and... Oh, Logan!
‘Yes. I am. So, if you could just excuse me? I need to let Dr Wilson know that I’m here. I don’t want him to think that I’m late.’
And if I say his name often enough it might summon him.
She pushed past him, glad to find that, yes, indeed her legs were still working, and were even remarkably co-ordinated.
But as she passed him their shoulders brushed, and she inhaled a pleasurable scent of soap and sandalwood, and it was like being catapulted back to when she was eighteen years old and in his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on his bed, laughing at him because he was trying on different kinds of body spray for their date night. And then she’d got up from the bed and pulled him close to inhale the scent of his skin...
‘Dr Wilson isn’t here.’
His voice stopped her in her tracks and she closed her eyes in despair. Heart pounding hard against her ribs, she turned back to look at him. ‘No? But he’s meant to be meeting me. He’s my mentor.’
Logan looked uncomfortable. ‘He’s not. His wife...she died this weekend.’
Oh.
That was dreadful news. Terrible! What was she to do? She’d have to ring her university. Tell them she needed to be assigned another mentor.