Doctor Next Door

by Rush, Olivia

  Fuck it, I couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This was more than friends. This was so much more than fuck buddies.

  Becca was mine.

  Chapter 20

  Rebecca

  “Are you coming in or not?” Peggy asked from behind the screen door at the front of the house.

  I tucked my cell into the front pocket of my jeans, smiled, and turned to her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep your hair on.”

  Peggy rolled her eyes at me and patted her perfectly coiffed auburn locks. “Bitch, please. You wish your hair was this fabulous.”

  This was exactly what I needed. A day with my sister and all her craziness. Time to recuperate and figure out my next steps. I followed my sister into her home—a traditional camelback in the center of the city—anxiety building in my stomach all over again.

  The call from Mason had been sweet. The date suggestion, terrifying. God, was this really what we ought to be doing? We’d played with fire—ugh, that was a horrible metaphor—this entire time, but I couldn’t envision going back to Stoneport and just being friends with him.

  The thought of living next door to him, knowing he was within reach, but not being able to touch him or even talk to him whenever I wanted, would be torture.

  I’d never been particularly sex-hungry, but Mason… He’d made me feel as if I’d been starving my entire life and he was the only person who could sate me. It was insanity. It’s perfect, is what it is.

  I entered Peggy’s living room, made for the sofa, and plopped down on it, squeezing my eyes shut immediately.

  “Long trip, huh?” Peggy asked, though I’d already been at her house for the last hour and a half. It was a bullshit prompt to get me to open up.

  Instead, I cracked an eyelid and looked up at her.

  She stood, her arms folded across her chest, and that big sister no-nonsense expression her face. “You wanna let me in on this?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied.

  “That should totally be your catchphrase,” Peggy replied.

  I ignored her and sat up, grabbing a magazine from her coffee table and flipping through it. It was a cooking magazine, and it made my stomach grumble. “So,” I said, “when will Dave be home? I’m friggin’ starving. I could kill a pizza right now.”

  “Twenty steps ahead of you, girl,” Peggy said. “As per usual.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning I’ve already ordered three pizzas, and drinks, and I also know that you’re only talking about food to avoid talking about the real reason you’re down here.”

  “Oh, come on. Can’t a sister visit another sister without having to have a reason for it?” I put down the magazine.

  “Bitch, you been dodgin’ my calls all week.”

  “Bitch, you’ve been harassing me all week.” The bitch thing was just something we’d done since forever. Another one of our sisterly quirks. It was an excuse to vent frustrations in a funny way.

  “Becky.”

  I sighed. “OK, fine, so maybe things aren’t all peachy.”

  “What’s up?” Peggy sat down across from me, and I launched into my tale, leaving out the juiciest bits, not because she’d be grossed out, but because she’d demand all the details from me if I so much as hinted at them. It was a sister thing.

  “So, between fixing up the house, this new receptionist job, and what’s going on with Mason, I just feel…like I’m overloaded. I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

  Peggy pinned her lips together, then released them slowly. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “You know I’m gonna be blunt with you, right?”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “I have just one question for you, sis,” Peggy said, placing her palms together and pointing her fingertips at me. “What are you even doing here right now? Why are you sitting on my sofa instead of his?”

  “Uh? I think I just explained that. It’s too complicated.”

  “No, no, what you just did was list a whole bunch of excuses as to why you can’t be happy.” Peggy continued with the finger pointing, accentuating every word with a jab in my direction. “Sounds to me like you’re scared.”

  I bristled underneath her gaze, bit back anger, then finally released it, rising to my feet. “And so?” I asked, pacing back and forth in front of her glass-topped coffee table. “So what if I am scared? Huh? Why can’t I be scared? My ex burned down my fucking restaurant. I have nothing. I have nothing, and I’m starting from scratch.”

  “So? What’s that got to do with anything?” Peggy asked, spitting it out like she always did when she pushed me. She wanted me to reach her conclusion faster and that pissed me off even more.

  “It’s got everything to do with everything!” I growled.

  “How? How, Becky? What are you actually afraid of?”

  “I don’t want to get fucked over again. I don’t want to fall for some handsome guy, give everything up like I did with Kieran, and end up screwed. I don’t want to lose everything again. I don’t want to lose my… God, this is dumb. I don’t even know why I came here. I thought you’d understand, sis.”

  “I do understand,” she replied evenly and brushed her auburn locks back. She speared me with her crystal blue gaze. “I understand that you’re making up bullshit excuses. You’re limiting yourself, and do you know why?”

  “Tell me, Dr. Phil. Blow my fucking mind,” I said and threw my arms up.

  “Because you don’t believe you deserve it.”

  I froze, and a bucket of ice dropped in my stomach. I didn’t say a word, just stared at my sister.

  Tears welled in Peggy’s eyes, and she shook her head. “I hate seeing you like this, Becky. You used to shine. Between the two of us, you were always the one who just fucking glimmered. People looked at you like you were something special, because that’s just who you are. You shine so damn bright, but ever since this shit with Kieran, you’re dim. It’s like he covered you in a layer of dust, and you just can’t seem to wipe it off.”

  I gulped, but the lump in my throat didn’t shift.

  “It’s like, because he did this horrible, shitty thing to you, you believe that’s what you deserved. On some level, you’re scared that’s what you’ll get every time. You were so close to the happiness you wanted, and when it was snatched away, you quit on yourself. You quit on being happy. You quit on your dreams. You’re coasting, and that’s why you don’t want Mr. Perfect. That’s why you’re hesitating about going on this date. You believe you don’t deserve to be swept off your feet, and it’s bullshit.” Tears streamed down my sister’s face.

  “Peg.”

  “No, hear me out. It is total bullshit, Becky. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and the only way you’re going to get it is by taking this risk. Who cares about Kieran? Who cares about all the shit he did? So he fucked you over, so he broke your heart. Are you going to let the memory of that pain govern the rest of your life? Is that what you want?”

  “No,” I said and bit my trembling bottom lip. Goddammit, why had she started crying? Whenever sis cried, I cried too. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  “Good. Then do me one damn favor, OK? Say yes to him. Say fucking yes. Go on the date and just be there with him. Just be open to the experience.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?” I asked and sniffed. What a lame question.

  “So what if it doesn’t work out?” Peggy shook her head. “Are you really willing to give up what you’re feeling right now for fear that it might end badly? I mean, there are loads of things that might not work out in life. That doesn’t mean you quit before you’ve even started. You can’t seriously believe that you’re not strong enough to recover from heartbreak. I’ve seen you do it before, Becky. You’re one kickass bitch.”

  I laughed through my tears and wiped them away with the backs of my hands. I descended on my sister and wrapped her in a bear hug, sitting down on the couch beside her.

  Peggy poke
d my arm. “Now, stop being a loser and text this guy back. Make yourself happy, OK?”

  “OK,” I replied, and shoot, I meant it. I’m going to go with him to the festival. I’m going to give this a chance.

  “Good, you’d better,” Peg said, still hugging me tight.

  The front door slammed, and footsteps tracked down the hall and toward the living room. “Hon? You in there?”

  “Yeah, we’re here,” Peggy called out.

  Dave entered the living room carrying three pizzas and grinned at us. “I come bearing gifts—pizza dude was just pulling up when I got home.” He paused and frowned. “What’s this? Tears and hugs? Not the usual catfight festival I’ve come to expect from you two.”

  “Don’t make me hit you,” Peggy said and waggled a finger at him.

  “Ah, that’s better,” Dave said and set the pizzas down on the table. He was nowhere near as good-looking as Mason, but he had his own unique brand of charm. A crooked nose, balding slightly, but toned and always smiling. “Hmm, I take it from the tears that you’ve told her our news?”

  “Dave!” Peggy yelped.

  “What news?” I asked and sat back, releasing my sister from the hug.

  “Shit. I’ve put my foot in it again.” But Dave didn’t seem all that worried. He flipped open the top box and extracted a slice of pie. “Ooh, I love how much cheese they put on these.”

  “Enjoy your last meal,” Peggy said, eyes narrowed. He winked at her.

  “What news?” I repeated and poked her arm this time. “You’ve been hiding something from me? What is it? Oh god, you’re not moving away, are you? I’m finally getting used to being in the same state as you, sis, it would suck big donkey dick if—”

  Dave choked on a cheese string, and both Peg and I gave him a look.

  “It’s not that,” Peggy said. “No donkey dicks in sight. It’s—well, shit, I’d better just say it. I’m pregnant.”

  “What?!” I clapped both hands to my mouth, shock and joy ratcheting through me in equal parts. Those tears welled up all over again. “Are you kidding? Oh my god, Peg!”

  “We’ve been trying for years, as you know, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I waited until we were out of the danger zone before telling you. I’m three months pregnant,” she said, beaming this time, though her eyes also glittered with unshed tears. “You’re gonna be an auntie.”

  I hugged Peg again, this time gently, and patted her back. “I’m so happy for you,” I whispered, then pulled back and examined her at arm’s length. She did have that pregnant-lady glow. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you let me ramble on about my problems when you had such big news.”

  “I can’t believe I haven’t thrown up on you yet,” Peggy said. “I get afternoon sickness.”

  “More pizza for me,” Dave announced, with another bite.

  “Hey!” Peggy pointed at him. “You know I’m eating for two. The minute you walked in here with those pies, my sickness disappeared. I smell the anchovies. Did you get the pineapple?”

  Dave shifted one box aside and brought out the other. “You bet your cute ass I did.” He flipped the lid on that one and revealed a pepperoni, anchovy, and pineapple-topped pizza.

  “Oh my god,” I said and grimaced.

  “I know, right?” Peggy licked her lips. “It’s perfect.”

  “Just one question, Dave,” I said. “Do you have any normal pizzas, or am I going hungry tonight?”

  The day was nothing but food, laughter, and chatter after that, but my thoughts still weren’t fully there. I dragged out my cell phone and typed out a text to Mason.

  “I’d love to go to the carnival with you. I’ll bring the dress. You bring the…I want to say ‘wood’ but it seems like such an easy answer.”

  The text pinged through a second after I’d sent mine. “Can’t wait to see you again, angelface. You’ll be in my dreams.”

  Chapter 21

  Mason

  Fuck it. I didn’t do nervous, but that night took the damn cake.

  I strode up the sidewalk between my house and Rebecca’s, my heart beating a little too fast for comfort. This was the first date I’d had in years—since before my relationship with Tabitha had officially evolved into a total shitfest.

  It would be public, too—a statement. I didn’t give a shit what any of the gossips in Stoneport thought about me, but Becca still cared, and if she cared, so did I.

  I’m whipped. Not even a first date yet, and I’m officially whipped.

  Finally, I reached her front gate and entered, walked up to the house, and noted the lights on upstairs and in the living room. I rang the doorbell then stood back, clutching the bouquet of flowers I’d handpicked in my front yard.

  The door latch clacked, and Becca appeared a second later—an angel in a white cotton dress, tight-fitting around her breasts and waist, and sweeping the skin just above her knee.

  Fuck. I was in serious trouble here.

  I inhaled the scent of her, those rose petals, and presented her with the flowers. “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” she replied and took them. “Thank you for these. Give me a sec to put them in water?”

  “Sure.” I itched to grab her instead, toss the flowers aside, and walk her up the stairs and to her bedroom. Who cared about the date and the carnival? It could be just us. But no, I’d made a point of asking. I wanted this for her and for me.

  Becca returned a couple minutes later, her short heels ringing on the boards in the entrance hall. Christ, she was breathtaking. She lifted her purse from the table then stepped up to me. “Ready?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” I replied and drew her into an embrace. I planted a soft kiss on her lips, barely brushing my mouth against hers, then one on her cheek and another on her earlobe. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “I missed you,” she whispered back.

  “Good.” I drew back but held her hand. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  I guided her back down the path and toward the front gate, just fucking bathing in her presence and the fact that we were together.

  Half an hour later, we pulled up in front of the carnival grounds and exchanged a glance.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  Becca sat back in the front seat, her gaze traveling from the striped ticket booth to the stalls beyond, and then to the Ferris wheel’s silhouette in the early evening sunlight. “Yeah, I’m all right. No, actually, I’m better than all right. Thanks for doing this, Mason.”

  “I told you, angelface. Anything for you.” I cut the engine, slipped out of the Dodge, and made my way around to the passenger’s side to open up for her.

  “Thanks,” she said and brushed off her dress. Her gaze traveled past me to the carnival activities again, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “So this is what a Stoneport Carnival looks like.” She lifted her nose to the air and sniffed. “Buttery popcorn, pretty lights, screams from the kids.”

  “Yeah, pretty standard stuff,” I replied, “but you can bet there’s a stall selling jambalaya somewhere around here.”

  “We’d better find that one, because I haven’t eaten all day.”

  We made our way over to the ticket booth and bought two tickets, then entered beneath the cheerful banner which pronounced the Stoneport Carnival the best in the state. Finally we were inside, mingling among the exhausted parents who followed their kids from stall to stall, and the lovers both teenage and fully grown, wandering around starry-eyed.

  I placed my hand on the small of Becca’s back, and she leaned into me, smiling again.

  “I heard these carnival snacks are seriously bad for you,” she said, turning her head and snaring me with another of those perfect blue gazes. “Bad for your heart.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. But that’s still not going to stop me from trying that chicken jambalaya with a side of old school American fries,” she said, reading directly from the board next to a food stall.

  We trekk
ed over to it and took up a position in the long line—naturally, everybody wanted some jambalaya. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve said it was the local cuisine that pumped through our veins rather than blood.

  “This is nice,” Becca said and slipped her arm around my waist. “I’ll admit, I was kind of afraid of coming tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “You know, that whole ‘keeping it simple’ thing? I was worried that this was the opposite of that.” She rested her head on my chest, and I kissed the top of it, inhaling her shampoo and the natural scent of her hair. It was so totally her. A scent I could wake up for, just fucking live for.

  “We’re still keeping it simple,” I replied. “We’re just enjoying ourselves.” And I’m simply falling for you. My stomach jolted at the thought, but I didn’t let it go. Fuck it, it was true. A couple weeks of this connection, and I was done. Stick a fork in me and all that crap.

  “I enjoy every second I spend with you,” she said softly, as the line shifted forward a few feet.

  The smells of cooking up ahead—the spiciness of sausage, shrimp, and chicken, the depth of flavor the dish obviously held—had my mouth on constant drool mode. I swallowed and grinned down at her. “Ditto, angel,” I said. “Man, I’m going to eat every bowl of jambalaya this place has.”

  “Oh, look,” Becca said, pointing at the chalkboard beside it covered in quaint drawings of the dishes. “They’ve got hamburgers too. And hotdogs. But what are we going to eat afterward?”

  “I think they have a cotton candy—” I cut off as the line shifted again, and two people peeled off from the front of it and walked back, holding Styrofoam containers of steaming food.

  My stomach dropped and all thoughts of food—and how good Becca looked, and how perfect spending time with her felt—evaporated.

  Perry and Tabitha strolled up to us, arm in arm.

  Becca stiffened at my side and tightened her grip on me. “Let’s just go,” she whispered. “There are other food stalls. We don’t have to hang around at this one.”