“Take a breath,” he says softly. He moves around the furniture, settling onto the other end of the couch. The fact that he’s released his anger is disarming. The man I remember was many things, but rarely could he have been described as nurturing. When his hand reaches for my knee, he jerks it away as if he suddenly realized that he shouldn’t touch me. “I’m sorry, I just… to say I wasn’t expecting to see you would be an understatement. Are you competent at what you do?”
I nod, working hard to swallow the lump in my throat. I’m not only competent, I’m one of the best nurses with the agency. Xavier is well aware of my academic achievements and credentials. Realizing this, I am under the impression it’s not my medical aptitude he questions. It’s my emotional stability.
I still haven’t worked up the courage to look into his blue eyes, scared of what I will see. Instead, I trace the subtle lines in the light upholstery, remembering how quickly I fell in love with the buttery soft leather the day Xavier handed me a key to our home. Looking around, I’m alarmed by how much hasn’t changed in the time since I left and wonder how many times I will be hit with memories of the life that used to be mine.
This time, Xavier doesn’t falter when he reaches for my hand, stilling it against the fabric. I swallow hard, refusing to look down at our joined hands, not allowing myself to enjoy the comfort his touch can still bring me. He’s not here for me. He has moved on and is now questioning my ability to do my job.
“Will you be able to put aside any personal misgivings and focus all of your attention on my wife?” Hearing him come right out and question my ability to compartmentalize our past upsets me more than anything. I’m sure there will be nights I have to drown my sorrows in more than a single bottle of merlot, but I have never and will never allow my personal feelings to interfere with the care a patient receives. Even when that patient has the life that could have been mine.
“Xavier,” I begin, taking three deep breaths to keep from sticking my foot in my mouth so soon after arriving. Like it or not, I didn’t so much as try to get out of this assignment, so now I have to treat the Ross family like every other family I’ve met. “Alyssa is my only concern. I am here to do whatever I can to make her comfortable until…” I stop myself, remembering that there is a child in the room with us.
Jacob seems to have lost interest in his chores and has turned his full attention on our conversation. Xavier snaps his fingers and the boy is quickly back on task. I purse my lips, knowing all too well how much Xavier can demand of a person with the slightest non-verbal command.
“I’m glad to hear that. She’s sleeping right now, but I will show you to her room.” I follow Xavier through the kitchen. I don’t want to think about how his body has changed since the last time we saw one another. He was always fit, but now, his gray t-shirt is pulled tight across broad shoulders, tucked into and defining his narrow waist. I would give anything to ignore the way he glides across the cool hardwood floors. There’s something incredibly sexy about the look of a man wearing jeans with bare feet.
Not wanting to spend any more time cataloging the ways his physique has improved with time, I cast my eyes downward. It’s the only direction I can look to have any chance of avoiding the clenching in my chest. Looking around the house, I can’t help but notice how much is still the same. If I had moved into a house my husband bought for another woman, I would have insisted on a complete overhaul before the first box was unpacked. So few things have changed here that I could easily forget that this is no longer home to me.
I wish Alyssa had done more to make this place her own when she moved in. Seeing the colors I chose on the walls, the table and chairs I picked out in the dining room and the paintings I selected hanging on the walls makes it feel like this could still be my home. I vow to never open the door to the master bedroom because if my mission style furniture set is still set against sage green walls with a chocolate brown comforter on top, my head might explode.
“Since they had to bring in a hospital bed for Alyssa, she’s been staying in my old office,” he informs me coolly, pointing to the last door on the left. “Jacob’s room is on the right and you know where the bathroom is.” I watch Xavier’s broad back as he walks away from me. He seems to have recovered from the shock of my arrival much quicker than I have.
My hand reaches for the doorknob, bracing myself for what I will find inside, reminding myself that this is just another assignment. There is nothing about the woman napping in the bed that immediately gives away her condition. If I didn’t know that a second bout with leukemia is claiming her life, it would be easy to ignore the subtle signs such as her pale skin tone and sunken cheeks. In a perverse way, I am overcome with a need to know what she looked like before the illness. Was her chestnut hair cut in the chic, short style it is now or was it longer the way I know Xavier prefers? What color are her eyes that are currently hidden behind closed eyelids? Was her frame more athletic or was she slender even before the chemotherapy began eating away at her body?
“Are you going to stand there staring or introduce yourself? A weak voice asks, pulling me out of my twisted thoughts. I need to get my head in the game before every member of the Ross family thinks of me as an incompetent flake.
“I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly, making my way to the side of her bed. I swallow hard before speaking, giving myself a moment to make sure I sound proficient at what I do. “I’m Melanie, I was sent by the home health agency.”
Alyssa assesses me in much the same way I was just doing to her. Even dark circles can’t take away from the brilliance of her jade green eyes. When she sits up, I notice a small diamond stud in the side of her nose. I push back the curiosity of what Xavier thinks of such a piercing. Back when we were together, he was adamantly against anything which would mar my face.
Stop it! You cannot afford to make comparisons between the man you used to love and this woman’s husband. You’re a professional, starting acting like it.
“Ah, yes. Xavier’s way of not having to deal with me day in and day out,” she says, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice. My chest tightens as I pray Alyssa isn’t hoping I will become her new best friend and confidant. Seeing the look on my face, she quickly adds, “Oh, don’t get me wrong, my husband is a good man, but he’s not the most caring person in the world. Don’t let him push you around or he’ll have you helping out with Jacob before you know it.”
“Mrs. Ross, I’m sure your husband is doing everything he can to make sure you’re comfortable. And I look forward to getting to know everyone in your family, but I promise you, my primary job is to take care of you.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to voice this sentiment, but I do. Desperately needing to find something to distract me, I reach for the copy of her medical chart sitting on the dresser. I don’t need to pay attention to the words on the pages because I’ve memorized them in anticipation of the challenge taking her case was going to pose for me.
“Well, that’s good to hear. Now, why don’t you pull up a chair and tell me something about yourself. I might not be in any shape to run a marathon, but I promise, we’re going to have plenty of time to get to know one another.” She smiles faintly and I get the impression she’s more trying to convince herself than me.
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By the time I get to this point in the book, life is always a blur. There are so many people who’ve helped me along the way, it’s impossible to remember them all.
First and foremost, I’d like to thank the Academy… wait, wrong speech… Thank you to my family for putting up with me when all you see if my back or a blur of fleece heading to the coffee pot for a refill. And Rick, on top of everything else, thank you for knowing when I’m so in the zone that I don’t even think of coffee. I know I turn my head and say thanks, but that’s really not enough. I love you and your support means the world to me!
April, you have proven time and time again that our parents were wrong when they said we were wasting our time
on The Wash. Had it not been for those nights wasting as much as ten dollars on gas (which was something back then, lol) I wouldn’t have one of the best friends anyone could hope to have in their lifetime.
Kristen, Debi and Nikki, without the three of you, there would be no book. Thank you for being willing to tell me when I suck and stroke my ego when I needed it.
To every single blogger out there that I’m not going to try to name individually because there are enough of you that the ones I forget could pummel me without a problem… thank you for everything you do for all of us indie authors. You have a thankless job at times and an underpaid one all of the time. The fact that you’re willing to help the world learn about us without asking for anything in return is truly a blessing.
Almost every week, my husband pries me away from the computer for a few hours on Tuesday nights. That is when we go to Denny’s and that is the reason there is an Isthmus Alliance series. You’re such a screwed up, eclectic group of friends, I could never do any of you justice by trying to put you in a book. I love you all, even the ones who piss me off on a regular basis!
And, of course, to my readers… I’m not sure I will ever get used to someone sending me a message telling me how much they enjoyed my books, seeing my name tagged on social media as someone’s favorite author, or the begging for more. I’m this socially awkward girl from Wisconsin just doing what she loves. When I started writing my first novel over a year and a half ago, I hoped that I would eventually sell 100 copies, just so I could say I did it. Having the Isthmus Alliance army standing behind me is amazing! Please know that you’re more than readers, you’ve become my friends!
And one more (as the music starts and the microphone disappears into the floor)… Robert Wronski, you said you wanted an acknowledgment for commenting on my statuses. Here you go, bud! We’ve never met, but you make me laugh or think on a daily basis. Sometimes, the thinking leads to laughing, but most of the time they’re completely independent of one another!
Sloan is a Midwestern mom who began writing nearly seven years ago as a way to make money while staying home with her daughter. Now, with two kids in tow and having written more articles on how to assemble various pieces of furniture than she can count, she is reaching to make her dreams come true.
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Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Fragile Bonds
Acknowledgments
Unexpected Consequences Page 24