He frowns but doesn’t say anything.
“You know I’m not that kind of person. And even if I was, why would I do it? What would my end game be?”
“To get in a few more one- on- one sessions with your secret crush?” Lance jokes.
“Very funny. And they’re obviously not so secret.”
“Okay,” Lance says, with a sigh. “I’m afraid to even go there with you. I don’t know what you’re getting at. Sure, I don’t think you’d lie or make stuff up. But I don’t think Dr. Davis would either. And that’s pretty much what you’re saying.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Lance looks at me in shock. But I figure this is one of those times when “go big or go home” applies. I can’t figure out any way to have this conversation with Lance except to accuse Dr. Davis of exactly what I think he’s doing.
“Look at this,” I say, producing a copy of my notes. “These were my notes after both sessions with Harlow. I made a copy.”
“To put in your ‘I love Harlow’ Album?” Lance asks. “That’s some level four stalker shit right there.”
“Very funny. I printed them out before I came to talk to you about Harlow’s progress, remember? And I also wanted to go over then with Dr. Davis. I couldn’t believe how good the results were, and I thought he should see them.”
“He has access to Harlow’s file,” Lance points out.
“Well I know that now,” I tell him. “But anyway. It’s a good thing I did print them out. Because now look at these.”
I show him the notes that Dr. Davis gave me earlier.
“These are notes that were doctored by Dr. Davis. Pun intended.”
Lance’s eyes widen as he sees the difference.
“See? I told you.”
“So he just… changed them? And he thinks he can get away with that? What exactly did he say?”
“He threatened me. Said to go along with it or he’ll have my job taken away.”
Lance’s eyes bug out even wider.
“He doesn’t know I have these original notes. But I’m not sure how it proves anything. He will just turn around and say I made these after the fact, out of spite against him once I was no longer allowed to work with Harlow or something. I mean, he is 100% certain that everyone here is so far up his ass that he can just do what he wants, and threaten who he wants, without consequence.”
“Hmmm,” says Lance, nodding his head. “I guess he’s right about that. Everyone swoons over him. I thought you were off base about your issues with him…”
“I thought that too. I was finally over it. I thought he had been lying about how far along Harlow had come. But then I realized he wasn’t lying. So I was fine with him, and feeling stupid. But now I find out he’s lying in the opposite direction. He wants us to think that Harlow hasn’t progressed as far as he has? That’s the part I can’t figure out. Why would he do that?”
Lance taps his fingers on the table, perplexed as well.
“Makes no sense to me either.”
Our waiter brings our sushi, and Lance seems to forget about his short- lived concern.
“A bigger question,” he says, “is what are you going to do about it? Or not do about it?”
“I… don’t know. I thought I would start by talking to you, and take it from there.”
“Bad idea,” he says, taking a bite and then saying “mmmm.” “Taking it anywhere, that is. Besides me.”
“Well, I can’t just let him get away with it!”
I’m so mad I don’t even feel like eating. Especially when I look back over at the pile of garbage. Where are Lance’s principles?
“Get away with what?” Lance shrugs. “You don’t really know what he’s doing, or why. You just know he doesn’t want you to stand in his way.”
“So what about you?” I ask him, accusingly.
“What about me?”
“You’re just going to be his little puppet? You’re going to change Harlow’s results or let Dr. Davis change them as he wishes, for whatever reason or whatever he’s trying to accomplish?”
The more I say, the angrier I get.
“Because you know that once he found out I’m not going to go along with what he wants, he got me out of the way, but how many other people can he do that to?” I continue. “He’s going to count on you to do things his way from the start, or he’ll surpass you for someone else. He might even threaten you too. And that’s part of why I felt compelled to tell you about all of this.”
“Well, thank you,” Lance says, “although I don’t feel too grateful. I just feel confused. I think we should just wait and see what happens. Let me assess Harlow and see what I think. Maybe there are areas that do need a more experienced eye. I haven’t exactly been watching you that closely.”
“Hey!” I protest.
“It’s a compliment. I know you know what you’re doing. But I don’t really know Harlow’s situation. So let me figure that out. And see what Dr. Davis does. Maybe you’re jumping to conclusions.”
I sit back in my chair and try to calm down. I glare at my sushi as if it’s my problem, while Lance scarfs his down like he hasn’t eaten in days. I suppose I’m so confused right now that there could be an answer I’m not seeing, but I doubt it. I know a threat when I hear one, and a threat is definitely what Dr. Davis delivered to me just hours ago.
“Just promise me you’ll remember what I said,” I tell Lance, in a last plea of desperation. “Don’t discount it, and don’t be blinded by Dr. Davis’ power.”
“All right,” Lance says, reluctantly. “I know you wouldn’t just pull this out of thin air. I’ll be on the look- out too. I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. If you’re going to go after Dr. Davis, you’ll need a lot more clear- cut evidence than you just showed me right now.”
He’s right. At this point my print- outs mean nothing and it’s just Dr. Davis’ word against mine. I sigh.
“Thanks Lance. I really do appreciate you listening, and keeping an open mind.”
“So are you going to just let that perfectly good sushi sit there?” he asks. “Because if not, I have a plan for it…”
I shake my head and take a bite of it.
“This isn’t half bad,” I say, as I take another bite, not even realizing how hungry I must have been. Or else it just tastes really good.
“Now you see why I ignore the trash.”
Chapter 41
Whitney’s been calling me, but I’ve been ignoring her.
I talk to my brother Ramsey instead, in his car on the way to our dad’s gravesite.
“Long time no talk,” he says. “How’ve things been?”
I want to say: Fantastic, and then awful.
But instead I just say, “Well you and Jensen were right. Especially Jensen. I’m telling you now so that you guys don’t get to lord it over me yourself.”
“That trip to paradise with the elusive physical therapy lady sure was short and sweet,” Ramsey laughs. “Did it end before you even got her in bed?”
“Ummm.”
He laughs again.
“Well, at least you got something for your trouble.”
Something indeed.
“I don’t know how I could have been so wrong about her. The chemistry was perfect, the sex was out of this world, her body was banging…”
“It just seemed so right because you were focused on all the wrong things,” Ramsey says. “So did she get in trouble at work? For fraternizing with the feeble, wobbly patient who needs her help and her professional focus?”
“Not exactly. I don’t think they know about us at work, although they suspect.”
A memory pops into my mind, of the creepy way that Dr. Davis came to the dive bar after his award ceremony, when I was celebrating with my buddies.
Why does he always keep such close tabs on me? How much does he even know about me that I don’t know?
“So what happened?”
I pause as my
phone vibrates in my pocket, letting me know I have an incoming call. I take it out to see who’s calling, although I already know.
Whitney again, of course.
I ignore her, again.
“You’ll never believe it, but she was purposefully holding me back. Blowing smoke up my ass, telling me I was doing great, but then turning around and telling Dr. Davis and everyone else how much work I still need to do.”
“Unfuckingbelievable,” Ramsey mutters.
“Yeah. It makes no sense.”
“Sure it does. The chick is crazy, and being in heat for you turns her even crazier. She wants to keep you on a short leash. Figured if she strung it out long enough, had enough one on one sessions with you at work and in the sheets, that eventually you’d put a ring on it. Happens all the time.”
It doesn’t feel like that was what was happening with us. But I don’t say anything. Obviously I don’t know much about how evil women can be, since I’ve never liked one enough to care.
The reason I’m riding with Ramsey instead of Jensen— other than the fact that Jensen rides everywhere on his motorcycle while Ramsey drives like me— is because I wanted to talk to him about Whitney privately, instead of Jensen this time. Ramsey is the Last Man Standing— the only one among us who hasn’t fallen for some chick. He is the only voice of reason that hasn’t been clouded by possibly bad judgment.
Sure, Jensen was no fan of Whitney’s but he’d also let the silly “it doesn’t happen until it happens” talk slip through, which had derailed me. I know I won’t get any such crazy talk from Ramsey.
“Well now she keeps calling me, and I’m sure she’s going to try to give me some bullshit story that I’m just not in the mood to hear.”
“Yeah, you need to stay strong, Harlow. If you even go near her, you might cave.”
“That’s unlikely to happen. Dr. Davis assigned me to some new physical therapist.”
“Thank goodness you have him looking out for you,” Ramsey says. “Or who knows how long she’d be pulling these stunts while you were too love- blind to wake up and figure it out.”
“Yeah. Thank goodness for Dr. Davis.”
Story of my life, I think, and I don’t know why I’m beginning to resent Dr. Davis for that. Would it have been better for him to have just let me stumble my way through my mistakes until I figured it out on my own?
Of course not. Not for him— he wants me back to where the military will thank him for returning a Special Ops member— and not for me— I want to be back more than anything.
I just think I wanted more time to figure it out, because that would have given me more time with Whitney. Who I need to remember is the enemy. And who was distracting me from my goal.
As Ramsey pulls up to the cemetery, my phone vibrates again.
“I’m going to step out. She’s calling again, and I’m going to tell her to leave me the fuck alone. So that my mind will be free to concentrate on Dad’s birthday.”
“There you go,” he says. “Stay strong. Don’t even listen to her words or you might start falling for them.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Any time.”
I walk around to a shaded area and look at Whitney’s name flashing across my screen, for what I hope will be the last time.
“What?” I answer my phone, annoyed.
“Harlow. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you…”
“So I noticed,” I tell her, determined to stand my ground, even though I hate that her voice sounds afraid and worried. “Did you ever stop to think that if a guy doesn’t pick up after you’ve called him… I don’t know, eight or so times?.... that it might be a good idea to just stop calling him?”
“Harlow. I get that you might be confused. But we need to talk. Can you meet me—”
“No I can’t meet you,” I tell her, disgusted. She thinks we can just kiss and make it all better. She clearly doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. “I don’t want anything to do with you, ever again. Don’t call me, don’t try to see me, don’t ask me to meet you.”
“Harlow…”
It’s one last plaintive attempt, but I refuse to fall for it.
“Please, Whitney. If I ever meant anything to you, then promise me you’ll leave me the hell alone.”
“Okay.” Her sigh sounds like one of those balloons that has had a small hole in it, that was struggling to stay in the air but finally admits to defeat as all air is being deflated from it. “Goodbye, Harlow.”
“Goodbye.”
And good riddance.
Chapter 42
Trying to choke back a mixture of overwhelming feelings, I join my brothers at my dad’s grave. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but the tombstone is still familiar and welcoming in a sad sort of way.
James Bradford:
Devoted Father and Beloved Friend.
Ramsey clears his throat.
“I know that none of us are religious men,” he begins. “So a prayer doesn’t seem appropriate. But I thought we might say a few words about or to Dad. Does anyone want to start?”
“I will,” Jensen says.
He probably comes here more than any of us, and he’s used to talking to our father.
“Dad, since I’ve last been here, things have turned out pretty well for me. So I wanted to thank you for continuing to be here for me, even from… wherever it is that you are. My case turned out okay. My lawyer turned out to be more than okay. In fact, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
“Woah,” Ramsey whistles, and I look at him in surprise.
“What a way to tell us!” I exclaim.
“I wanted Dad, and you two, to be the first to know.”
He looks so happy that I almost start to believe in love— for him, of course. Not for suckers like Dad and me.
“Congratulations,” Jensen and I both say, each patting him on the back.
“Good job, little brother,” says Ramsey. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’ll go next,” I say.
I look down at his gravesite and take another deep breath. I’m always bad at this— talking to my dad. But I feel that it’s an important tradition for my brothers and me to keep up, so I try anyway.
“I think of you often, Dad, and I always try to make you proud. I’m fighting hard to get back in with my unit. Everything’s going fine after my accident, and I’m pretty much back to new. So don’t worry. Love you, Dad.”
Now my brothers squeeze my shoulders. It feels good to have them with me on a sad day like this. I don’t know what I’d do without them.
“Okay, so I’m up,” says Ramsey, and he bends down to retrieve his guitar from its case. “Dad, I want you to know that everything’s good. We’re all good, we all miss you. Mom’s doing okay.”
Jensen and I look at each other uncomfortably.
“I mean, she’s had a few small set- backs but I just saw her yesterday and she’s back to doing well. I’m looking out for her, Dad, just like you always did. So don’t worry.”
I feel a pang of sadness, for how badly Ramsey wants to be like our dad, and to take care of all of us, even Mom. He’s always been the strong one among us, no matter what.
“I’ve been doing a little… music therapy,” he says, causing Jensen and I to raise an eyebrow at each other. “And I wrote this song for you. It’s what I’ve been wanting to say for a long time. I wanted to play it here for you, on your birthday.”
He begins strumming his guitar, and softly humming. He’s actually pretty good. Jensen and I look again at each other, but this time it’s with a look of amazement.
He sings a soft verse and then his voice gets louder and stronger on the touching refrain.
I always wanted to say goodbye.
But how can I do that when I can’t let go?
I never wanted to say goodbye.
Because you’re still with me, wherever I go.
After he’s finished, we stand still in silence.
I’m thinking abo
ut my dad, Ramsey’s song, and how it’s true that I never wanted to say goodbye to Dad, and how I probably will never be ready to do that, although I had to long ago. And I can’t help thinking the same thing about Whitney.
I’m so mad at her, but I still can’t get her out of my head. What’s it going to take for me to be able to let her go?
Chapter 43
My doorbell rings, awakening me from a deep slumber. My first thought is who’s at my door so early? My second thought— embarrassingly— is, Harlow?
I stumble out of bed and answer the door unabashedly in my pajamas. I’m surprised when bright light is the only thing that greets me.
It’s not Harlow. It’s no one. Just a package my postman left at the front door. My latest installment from my Books & Bubble Bath subscription. Great. As if I didn’t already feel like a walking cliché, now I’m seriously thinking of trying to mend my broken heart by losing myself in a romance novel while soaking in the tub.
I’m surprised to find that it’s mid- afternoon. I’ve been sleeping for a really long time.
I admit it. I called in to work, decided to skip my classes, and took a mental health day. This is my very first one, ever.
I’ve heard of such things, but I thought they were for weak- minded idiots. The type of person who fall in love with someone who would believe a smarmy doctor over them, and who would be so morose once that person breaks up with them that they need to stay in bed all day, and maybe stay in the bath tub all evening to boot.
And then I decide to take action. I don’t deserve a bubble bath until I’ve figured out what Dr. Davis’ deal is.
Clearly Harlow doesn’t want anything to do with me right now, and how can I blame him, when undoubtedly Dr. Davis got to him first and painted me as some crazy stalker who is making Harlow look bad so that I can have him all to myself?
I need to figure out a way to convince Harlow that it’s Dr. Davis— not me— who can’t be trusted. I need to do it to possibly save my relationship with Harlow, and to save my job.
On a hunch, I drive to Dr. Davis’ office. This is risky, as either Dr. Davis or Harlow could see me, but at this point, what do I have to lose? I park in the far end of the parking lot, furthest away from the entrance, trying to formulate a plan.
Sold on St. Patrick's Day: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance Page 28