How Sweet It Is

by Brayden, Melissa

  “That’s rough when there’s no real common ground. Is that the main thing you would change?”

  “I guess. She also didn’t get my sense of humor. Could never pick up on when I was joking and when I wasn’t. It was a problem for me. What about you? What would you change?”

  Jordan felt Molly tense in her arms, clearly uncomfortable at how the tables had been turned. “Oh, about me and Cassie?”

  “Yeah.” Jordan knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but she also knew it was somewhere she had to go. Before answering, Molly pushed herself into a seated position, breaking all contact, her gaze on the wall. “Um. That’s a hard one. Maybe her deep-rooted obsession with the cap on the toothpaste?”

  “Wow. That’s pretty generous of you. There’s really nothing ?”

  “You know, I guess maybe there isn’t. I’m going to get some water.”

  Jordan wanted to drop it there, badly she did. But she was up and following Molly before she could help herself, her frustration growing by the moment. Through it all, she understood Molly’s thought process. She understood why Molly needed to remember Cassie in the most favorable light possible.

  Yet it simply wasn’t fair. It was stacking the deck against her.

  “Why do you act like everything was perfect with Cassie? That she was?”

  “Of course she wasn’t perfect. No one is. But what we had, it was more than what most people have. It was—”

  “Incomparable apparently.” Okay, that sounded overly sarcastic.

  Molly went still, the glass in her hand suspended as she scrutinized Jordan. “Whoa. What’s with the attitude?”

  “Because you set up this wonderful ideal of a relationship which is, A. bullshit, and, B. impossible to compete with.” Okay, now they were off the tracks entirely and Jordan didn’t seem capable of reining herself in.

  Molly stared at her hard, defensive. Angry. “Who the hell are you to judge? And why is it that you feel you have to compete?”

  Jordan was too far in to stop. “Just look over your shoulder, Molly. There are three pictures of you guys looking young and in love on the refrigerator.”

  “You want me to take the photos down?” It wasn’t the question itself that got to Jordan, but the way Molly said it, as if it was an illogical idea. It was infuriating.

  “I don’t think you could handle it if I did.”

  “Well, it’s not your call anyway.”

  “I guess my question is will it ever be yours? Because I’m starting to wonder, Mol.”

  Molly shook her head in mystification, taken aback. She looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I don’t think you understand what it is that you’re talking about at all and maybe we should just—”

  “If I had asked you if you were free after work on Wednesday, what would you have said?”

  “That I’m not. You know that Wednesday is—”

  “Set aside for Cassie. As is a large part of your life, and probably part of your heart, and that’s not a pattern I see ending anytime soon. That’s the only point I’m trying to make here. She’ll always be a part of our past, Molly. She was important to both of us. We both loved her. And we both miss her. But does she have to be such a big part of our present?”

  Molly’s eyes flashed. “The photos, the Wednesdays, they’re important to me. After everything, they’re all I have.”

  “All you have. Ah, well, that certainly puts things in perspective. Thank you.”

  “That’s not fair. You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “Do I?”

  “We’re talking about a relationship that took up half of my life. And this”—she gestured between them apathetically—“whatever the hell this is, should have at least earned me your patience in trying to sort it all out.”

  The words Molly had just used to describe their relationship were telling, and she felt the effects of the blow all over. “Whatever the hell this is. Nicely put.”

  Molly glared. “You know what? I don’t want to do this with you. You should go.”

  It was a runaway train at this point, and Jordan couldn’t stop it. The fight had taken over and it felt like they were no longer in charge of it. She was angry. More than angry, because this is exactly what she knew would happen. “That would be your solution. Take the easy way out and avoid dealing with any kind of conflict. It’s what you do best, after all.”

  “Says the girl who fled town for four years,” Molly bit out. “Take a harsh look in the mirror, Jordan. I don’t think you have a lot of ground when it comes to standing tall and dealing, do you?”

  “Low blow.”

  The look on Molly’s face was glacial at best. “Leave, Jordan. I don’t want you here. I don’t know how I can make that more clear to you.” Her voice was terrifyingly final. Jordan felt the blast of those words and something else too. Hurt. And it was far more devastating. She turned and headed for the door.

  As she drove home, her mind replayed the argument over and over again. And while she was still worked up, she was also leveled by the way Molly had so easily dismissed their relationship. Who they’d become to each other. And now, it felt like it had all crumbled around her.

  God, she hated that feeling.

  But it was hard to stay pissed off when your heart was hurting the way Jordan’s was. What had started out as one of the best nights ever had spiraled into something she would give anything to undo.

  She shouldn’t have pushed. Molly was right.

  As she drove, it occurred to her that it was time to face some hard facts. If she and Molly couldn’t so much as have a conversation to work through some of the obstacles between them, well then, maybe it was better if they were done.

  She sighed.

  She could lie to herself quite well when she wanted to. It was one of her best talents.

  *

  It turned out the clinic’s new receptionist was the real deal. Her name was Alyssa, and Jordan had her pegged at about twenty-three or twenty-four years old. But the girl was definitely competent. The waiting room was as busy as Jordan had ever seen it, but Alyssa had everyone informed, happy, and moving along at a steady pace. This was good news for Jordan, as now she could devote more time to getting the details of the production company in order and start to make arrangements to head home.

  Given everything that had happened recently, it was definitely time.

  Behind her, Jordan heard Alyssa addressing a patient. “I apologize, sir, we’ll do our best to get you back soon, but without an appointment, it could take a little time.”

  “Sweetheart, do me a favor and tell Mikey that Luke is here and that my fuckin’ hand hurts.”

  Hearing the language, Jordan spun around in her chair from where she’d been categorizing charts. She recognized Luke Treyhorn. He’d been a friend of her brother’s in high school. From the rumor mill and Facebook, she’d heard he’d picked up an alcohol problem that cost him his marriage and quite a few friends. She watched as he stalked back to his chair, muttering to himself under his breath.

  “Everything okay?” she asked Alyssa quietly.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s drunk,” she whispered. “I’m trying to work him in, but your brother is booked solid.”

  Her mother was out of the office on a speaking engagement in Springfield. That didn’t leave them a ton of options. “What about my father?”

  “Overbooked. Even more so.”

  Jordan nodded and shot a glance at Luke. He was mouthing something she couldn’t make out and rhythmically hitting the back of his head against the wall where it made a quiet little thud each time. Fantastic. And not at all intimidating. “Let me talk to my brother.”

  Jordan waited outside of exam three for Mikey to finish up with his sprained ankle. When he emerged, he bopped her on the head with his clipboard in typical Mikey fashion. “What’s up, doc?”

  She frowned at him. “Should be my line, no?”

  “Semantics. Everything okay?”

  “Um, bit of a si
tuation, actually. Luke Treyhorn is drunk in reception. I think he banged up his hand somehow. He’s demanding to see you.”

  Mikey shook his head in annoyance. “So what else is new? He’s in here once a week, angling for pain meds and I’m not going to do it this time.”

  “Can you at least talk to him? The waiting room is full and he’s pissed, Mike. We need to get him out of here.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Send him to exam one. I’ll be right in.”

  “Got it. Thank you. You’re a rock star.

  “That’s Dr. Rock Star.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jordan checked her watch. Only three more charts to get through and she was out. Alyssa seemed to have everything under control and it was a weight off her shoulders. She had the afternoon.

  Part of her wanted to casually swing by the bakeshop to see Molly. Lay eyes on her, make everything feel okay again, because it was eating away at her the way they’d left it. But another part of her, the self-preserving part, thought it was smarter to hit the gym, do a little kickboxing, and work off some of the stress externally. On her way there, she’d call her neighbor, Martin, and check on her cat. Let him know she’d be home by the end of the week.

  She was on the very last chart when the shouting erupted from down the hall followed by a loud metal crash. She exchanged a look with Alyssa and they took off down the hall.

  When she threw open the door to exam one, Luke had Mikey up against the wall, his forearm across her brother’s neck. “You think you’re better than me, you piece of shit? You think you can lord over all the rest of us because you have a fucking pad in your hand? Huh?” Luke’s voice was scratchy and out of control.

  Her eyes shot to Mikey, who was red and gasping for air and Jordan’s stomach dropped at the sight. She reacted instinctively and charged Luke, tugging with everything she had on his forearm, but it was like pulling on a fixed slab of asphalt. Unmoving. She heard Alyssa quietly talking into the phone. “We need the police at 282 Comburg Castle Way. The clinic, that’s right. We have an assault in progress.”

  Luke pulled Mikey forward and then slammed him into the wall again hard. A nearby painting fell to the ground and glass shattered near their feet. Jordan changed her strategy and grabbed Luke by the back of the hair, effectively pulling his neck back. His eyes locked on hers and the fury there sent a chill through her. She saw his elbow as it flew through the air and then darkness.

  Nothing.

  Everything was quiet.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Molly hung up the phone and covered her mouth and the smile that tugged. Her strategy session with Grant had gone better than expected. He’d received the signed paperwork cementing their partnership, and had taken a successful meeting with a very interested distributor.

  She couldn’t believe this was really happening.

  Things were looking up, indeed.

  And she knew instantly who she wanted to share the news with, but then she sighed as she remembered the reality of why that wasn’t so easy. The fight she’d had with Jordan had come out of nowhere. And its effects left her shaken, as did Jordan’s assertions that Molly didn’t seem capable of living a life without Cassie in the forefront.

  But the thing that got to her most of all was the underlying fear that Jordan might be right. As she’d pulled milk from the refrigerator that morning, she’d come face-to-face with the photos in question, the ones that had inserted themselves into the most wonderful evening she could remember having in a long time. And as strong as the feelings she had for Jordan were becoming, she still couldn’t bring herself to take the photos down. It was too final. Too concrete an action.

  Instead, she’d stared at them as doubt circled.

  But somehow, in the wake of her fantastic mood, the issues they needed to sort through could wait. She missed Jordan. Besides that, she knew Jordan would be thrilled for her news despite their fight, because that’s the kind of person she was. She grabbed her keys and headed out with purpose in her stride.

  As Molly approached the clinic, she saw the lights. Two cop cars and an ambulance. She cringed at the sickening red and blue swirl that forever haunted her memory, a reminder of her darkest day. But why were they here? It didn’t make sense to her less than rational mindset. And then the fear crept up on her. Her heart pounded out of her chest and she had trouble inhaling, almost as if she’d forgotten how.

  It was the beginning of a panic attack.

  She gripped the steering wheel and began to talk herself down. The clinic had minor emergencies all the time. Patients that needed to be transported quickly to a hospital or the occasional case that was too big to be handled locally. It wasn’t that unheard of. Probably it was something along those lines.

  At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

  She parked her car across the street as a police cruiser blocked the entrance to the clinic’s parking lot. She was moving quickly because, well, she had to. There was a small grouping of curious onlookers standing along the perimeter the police had set up.

  “Does anyone know what happened?” she asked the group in general.

  Jack Asher, the mechanic from the body shop across the street, looked her way. “Jordan Tuscana is hurt and unconscious inside. Not sure how yet. At least, that’s what the rookie cop said.”

  Her feet were moving before her mind could fully process what she just heard. Oh God, no. Her body went numb with dread. A million crazy and terrifying thoughts streaked across her mind in rapid succession and she found herself scarcely able to feel her legs but she forced them forward anyway.

  Crazy Luke Treyhorn was in handcuffs in the waiting room when she entered the clinic. She’d never liked the guy. He was the type who would blatantly leer at a woman on the sidewalk, make inappropriate comments, and then high five his buddies about it in plain sight of everyone. And that was when he was sober. “Where is she?” she managed to ask the young cop standing next to Luke. Travis something was his name. He came into the bakeshop once in awhile.

  “Ms. O’Brien, you can’t be in here right now. I’ll need you to wait outside.”

  But it wasn’t like she could exactly listen to him.

  She was already halfway down the hallway, glancing into exam rooms with Travis-something calling after her when she found them. Two police officers were taking a statement from a young woman Molly didn’t recognize. Her father-in-law seemed to be straightening up the disheveled room, and Mikey was leaning over someone on the exam room table.

  “Where is she? Is she okay? Mikey!”

  He turned at the sound of her voice, revealing Jordan lying on the exam room table peering at her from around Mikey’s body. “Hey, it’s Molly,” she murmured.

  Relief. It was a wonderful thing. She took a moment to breathe because she’d forgotten to on the way in. She’d been terrified, more so than she could wrap her mind around in the moment. And as she’d made that alarming trek from the parking lot into the hospital, something had come loose within her. But she would deal with that later. The important thing was that Jordan was conscious and sitting right here in front of her.

  She inhaled again and held the doorjamb to steady herself as life floated back into the reasonable column.

  “Jordan, I told you to hold still,” Mikey instructed her.

  Molly moved into the room. “Is she okay?”

  He concentrated on Jordan’s forehead and applied a stitch. “She will be. Because I happen to be good at my job.”

  Jordan waved him away, her attention on Molly. “How did you know I wanted to see you?” She smiled lazily as Mikey applied a series of Steri-Strip bandages to an angry looking gash on her forehead that was already swollen and purple.

  “What happened?” she asked, moving to Jordan’s side.

  Jordan raised a delicate hand to her head. “Asshole throws a mean elbow. Just as I was ready to clock his ass too.”

  Mikey threw a glance to Molly. “Treyhorn got a little
out of hand. Don’t worry. Besides the gutsy kid sister here, no one else was hurt. She was out for a few minutes and came to with a nasty little wound that is going to smart for a couple of days. Needed a few stitches too.”

  Jordan closed her eyes. “I saved Mikey’s life.”

  Molly raised an inquisitive eyebrow and turned to her brother-in-law for explanation. Jordan wasn’t herself.

  “She was a superhero. That’s true. Now she’s a drugged superhero,” he supplied. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

  Aha. That explained the extra exuberance. She surveyed Jordan who lay back on the exam room table and stared upward. “Room is kind of spinning and it’s sleepy in here.”

  Joseph set down the tray of instruments he’d gathered from the floor and surveyed his daughter. “We had to loosen her up with a few Valium before we could numb the area and stitch the wound. She’s always had an aversion to needles.”

  “I like the stuff you gave me though,” Jordan murmured. “More of that please. Put it on my tab.”

  “I think you’ve had enough, Jordana,” Joseph said, smoothing her hair. “We should get you home. We’ll need someone to watch her though, after such a powerful blow to the head.”

  “Uh, I can knock off early and take her over to your place until Mom’s home,” Mikey said to his father. “Alyssa can reschedule the rest of my afternoon.”

  “Molly can take me,” Jordan said quietly.

  Joseph turned to her in question. “I don’t want to inconvenience you. But if you don’t mind,”

  “She doesn’t,” Jordan answered, sitting up. “We get along really well.”

  Molly took a step back as the panic flared once again. “Actually, I can’t. I have to run some errands. I’m glad you’re okay.” She nodded once and turned for the door, but not before she saw the look of hurt flash in Jordan’s eyes. It sliced through her, but it was nothing compared to what she’d have felt if the afternoon had turned out differently. Those moments, on her way into the hospital, when she didn’t know…