Her eyes grazed the length of his body. Damn, he was tall. Taller than she remembered. And his height was only the beginning. He wore dress pants that were slightly wrinkled, with patches of dirt at the knees. Even still, he wore it well, with muscles straining the seams of his doctor’s coat. He had the most crystal blue eyes she’d ever seen—and even though everyone in town claimed the Tripps all had the same eyes, she disagreed. Steve’s were fairer than the rest. Brighter. With a ring of one shade darker blue around the edge of his pupil.
She cleared her throat, forcing her gaze away from his body. “How’s Gatsby?”
“He’s great. He just needs to finish his IV before I can release him to you.”
“So I can finish these out there?” She waved the insurance forms with a nod to the waiting area out near Amanda’s desk.
“Of course.” He held the door open for her.
“Thanks.” She hiked her purse higher onto her shoulder.
With a gentle touch to her elbow, he stopped her mid-step. His nose was mere inches from hers as he looked down into her eyes. The softness of his hand countered the urgency in his eyes and tingles surged from where he touched down to her fingers. She searched his face and she couldn’t stop her gaze from wandering to his scar, feeling that guilty ache low in her belly. Rationally, she knew that the accident was neither of their faults. The police had gone over all the reports and told her multiple times no one was at fault. And yet she couldn’t get rid of that gnawing feeling in her gut. She and Steve were the only ones who knew the whole truth. That if she hadn’t been distracting him while he was behind the wheel, the whole thing probably could have been avoided.
His face lifted with a soft tilt to his mouth. “For the record, I would be happy to see you every week. But if you’re busy, a friend or your fiancé could always bring Gatsby in for his treatment.”
“My fi—” Yvonne’s gaze drifted down to her bare finger.
Just then, a woman burst through the door. She had thick dark, curly hair and wore black pants with a blue button-down shirt.
“Sophy,” Steve sputtered, quickly dropping Yvonne’s elbow.
Sophy. Yvonne gulped, stepping back and taking in the beautiful girl. Wow. That hurts way more than it should.
His eyes darted back and forth between the women in the waiting room. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
She held up a paper bag pinched between her fingers, letting it swing back and forth. “Lex said you forgot the cookie you ordered.” She grinned a toothy smile.
“I didn’t ord—”
The woman—Sophy, apparently—cut him off. “Lex said you wouldn’t remember ordering it. But he asked me to bring it over for you.” She strolled easily through the front door, sidling up next to Steve so closely that Yvonne felt like a voyeur.
Yvonne tugged at the hem of her cotton sleep shirt and carefully leaned down to make sure she didn’t smell bad. With a whiff, she relaxed a little. At least she had remembered deodorant in the rush this morning. Unfortunately, compared to this girl’s easy, summer style, Yvonne’s yoga pants and T-shirt she managed to throw on when she woke up to find Gatsby still sick paled in comparison.
And just like that, she was launched back to being a teenager when she was full of self-doubt. The Yvonne she had been before she met Steve. The girl who was forced to wear dresses and go to cocktail parties as her parents showed her off to their friends as though she was another piece of expensive antique furniture they’d won at auction. But I’m not a teenager anymore, she reminded herself, standing straighter. She was a grown woman and Steve was a grown man. A man whom she hadn’t been in a relationship with in over a decade. He had every right to date whomever he wanted.
Blushing a deep crimson, she dropped her gaze to the paperwork and took a seat. With every ounce of effort she could muster, she tried to ignore their flirtations right in front of her. It wasn’t jealousy, she told herself. No one in their right mind would want to sit around and watch their ex chat up another person. And Steve was always a ladies’ man, she thought while a sigh heaved in her chest. He had been nothing but true to her when they dated, but it didn’t change the fact that women always took notice of him. Before, after, and even while they were together. Even though he had long gotten rid of the motorcycle—even though he’d traded in leather and ripped jeans for suits and now had a respectable job—some things never changed.
“Um, okay.” Though Steve’s voice had dropped lower in an effort to disguise their conversation, he had a cadence to his voice that boomed through any room no matter what the volume. “Well, thank you. I’m actually with a client, so…”
“You’ll call me, right?”
Yvonne stole another peek at the girl… unsure why the hell she did that to herself. Sophy dipped her chin low, batting her black lashes.
“Um. Yeah. Yes, of course,” Steve wet his lips, swallowing.
Amanda gave him a look that could bend steel before he jumped back, giving the girl a final nod. “Thanks… thanks again… for bringing my cookie.”
Sophy backed out the door with a final wave. When Steve turned his attention back to Yvonne, she arched a brow in his direction.
“So, um, where were we?”
“We were just finishing up.” She offered him as friendly a smile as she could muster.
“Right. So, if you need someone else to bring him to the appoint—”
“No need. I’ll bring Gatsby myself.”
“Great.”
“Great.”
With a final nod, Steve lurched for his office, seemingly happy to get the hell out of there. “Amanda, could you get Gatsby for Yvonne when he’s ready?”
Sucking her teeth, she glared at her boss and Yvonne could barely muffle her laugh. “Yep. I sure will.”
“Without the attitude,” he whispered.
“No promises,” she shot back, with a wink to Yvonne.
‡
Chapter Four
Steve’s body jerked awake from his afternoon nap, chills bolting down his arms and legs. A sheen of sweat covered his whole body. The room wasn’t in focus, and even though he knew rationally he was in his bedroom, everything was warped. One hand fell to his heart, the thudding pulse slamming against his palm. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply… in through his nose, out through his mouth, like the therapist had taught him thirteen years ago. He repeated the technique over and over until he felt his pounding heartbeat slow and his breathing return to normal. He pressed his other hand into his damp pillow and as his bedroom came back into focus, he found his dog, Molly, sitting at his feet, staring up at him with concern.
Early evening sunlight seeped in through his open window, along with a gentle breeze that billowed out the curtains his ma had sewn for him. With a final deep breath, he slid out of the bed onto the floor, next to Molly, and draped his arm around her. She gave him a gentle kiss on the hand before lying down and resting her chin in his lap. His fingers stroked her coarse fur, and little by little he felt his bunched muscles melt back into normalcy.
“Thanks, girl,” he said with a final pat to her head.
He didn’t know where he’d be without his dog… yes, she was a working dog. A trained therapy dog, but she was also so much more than that. She was his friend. His rock. And the one living creature he could depend on when his anxiety consumed him. He’d had her for ten years, at the recommendation from his doctor. And after Molly came into his life, the nightmares and terrors went from constant to rare.
Yvonne’s teary eyes from that morning flashed in his mind. She’d hardly changed in the thirteen years they’d been apart. Same big, hazel eyes. Same wide smile and blond hair that would whip around both of them, tangling them together as they rode on his motorcycle. Despite his insistence, she’d never wanted to wear a helmet. He quickly shook the mental picture of her away as he pushed to his feet and padded into the bathroom. Despite the rocky start to this morning, the rest of Steve’s day had gone pretty smoothly. Only a handful o
f appointments, and then he was done a couple of hours early. Something he was incredibly grateful for considering he had been awake at the crack of dawn.
He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Lines and wrinkles flanked his eyes and mouth, aging him more than his thirty-one years. He opened the medicine cabinet, rolling the bottle of prescription anti-anxiety medication he kept on hand in case of a relapse. The pills bounced around the orange plastic bottle like a maraca. He hadn’t needed a pill in a year. Not since last year’s Father’s Day dinner, when Yvonne called his Ma’s house and he had unknowingly answered the phone. Hearing her voice was like a bolt of lightning that was directed to the center of his heart.
With a grunt, he shoved the pills back into his medicine cabinet, slamming the door shut without taking any, and instead grabbed his running shorts and a clean T-shirt, changing.
Aim to self-medicate with activity first. Drugs are the last resort… even legal ones.
There was a knock at his door and he grabbed his phone, checking the time before answering. He swung the door open as his ma burst through, along with his ten-year-old niece, Maddie, and her new puppy, Nibbler. He had helped Lydia, his brother’s fiancée, adopt the puppy for Cam’s Father’s Day gift.
“Uncle Steve!” Maddie lurched off the ground, jumping into his arms. Thank God he’d been paying attention. He caught her, squeezing her in a hug as Nibbler bounded into his living room, jumping around with Molly, wrestling.
“Maddster!” he shouted in response. Moving to put her down, her arms remained around his neck, not letting go of his hug. It was a game they’d played since she could walk and she swung from his body like a little monkey. “How was your trip to Comic Con?”
“It was so cool. Lydia had these special passes and we got to go behind the scenes and everything.”
“Awesome! Hey, Ma,” He put Maddie down and dropped a kiss to his mother’s cheek. Her smirk was laced with bemusement and enough mischief that he couldn’t help but wonder if word got around town that Yvonne had come to his practice that morning. “You guys were just in the neighborhood?”
Marty Tripp moved into his kitchen and set a canvas reusable grocery bag on the counter. She unloaded a few groceries, shaking her head with a puff of her lips as she looked into his fridge. “I told you I would be coming by today with Maddie and Nibbler. You don’t remember?”
Ah, shit. She did tell him that last weekend. “It’s Thursday, already?” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry. Slipped my mind.”
His ma’s smile widened and she gave him a wink before putting a bunch of bananas on the marble counter. “I’m not surprised. Your brother and Lydia are meeting with Nick over at the restaurant to iron out details for the engagement party. They’re having a heck of a time finding a venue for this wedding.”
“Yeah, weren’t they hoping for an August wedding?”
Marty nodded, worry creasing her face. “Yes. Doesn’t look like it’s meant to be this summer, though. That’s why they’re having the engagement party now instead.”
“Maybe it’s better that way. Gives them the extra time to plan the wedding they want.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I was picking Maddie up from Girl Scouts and I needed to swing by—”
“To bring me bananas, apparently?”
“Steven David Tripp, have you seen your fridge?” She yanked open the stainless steel door, shaking her head. “Condiments, beer, protein powder, and yogurt. You need more sustenance than this.”
“You’re right.” He tossed a wink to Maddie. “Like cookies.”
Kid-like giggles pealed through his house as his ma let loose with an exasperated sigh. “Cam said you had some flea and tick medication for Nibbler?”
Steve snapped his fingers and moved into his home office, where he kept samples and medicine. “That’s right. I knew there was something he needed.” He grabbed a few months’ worth of supply, along with a heart worm preventative. “Make sure he knows that he can only give Nibbler the heart worm medicine if he’s been keeping up with the previous months. Otherwise, it could be… trouble,” he said.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
He hesitated a moment, eying Maddie playing with the dogs. “Ma, did you hear anything recently about Yvonne’s engagement?” He knew the mere question would catapult his mother into wild ideas of him still having feelings for his ex, but he had to know one way or another.
“There was a rumor that she was supposed to be moving to Laconia to be with him, but it never happened.”
“But nothing about the wedding?”
His mom narrowed her eyes at him. “Yvonne and I are friendly, even after the accident, you know that. But we’re not friends, hon. She doesn’t confide in me.”
“But you would have heard if she—”
“My girlfriends love their gossip, but they know there are certain topics that are off the table to discuss with me. Yvonne being one of them.” She paused. “But I’m sure I could find out if you wanted me to.”
He considered that for a moment, but thought better of it. The fact that the town wasn’t gossiping about Yvonne was a good thing. He didn’t want to give them any reasons to. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just curious.”
Marty nodded, tucking her blond, chin-length hair behind her ear. Then, looking at his running outfit, a moment of concern flashed over her features. She knew as well as he did why he ran. How it was his coping method from the accident. “Come on, Maddie. Let’s let Uncle Steve go for his run.”
“Thanks, Ma. I’ll walk you out.” He leaned in for another hug and kiss from each of them and grabbed his keys. He whistled for Molly, who came trotting happily toward the front door with Nibbler barreling after her. Molly’s tail swished against his dark hardwood floors, and Steve found himself smiling, already feeling calmer. He clipped each of the dog’s leashes, handing Nibbler’s to Maddie.
“Not sure how long of a run you’re going for,” Ma said, “but Frank got a new boat. She’s a beauty… down by the dock. You should check it out.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He locked his door behind him, clipping Molly’s leash to his running belt. He didn’t usually run in that direction, but a post-run swim sounded amazing. He gave his mother and niece a final wave goodbye as they pulled out of his driveway.
Molly sat at his side, waiting patiently for their run to start. “Come on, sweet girl. Keep me on track.” Almost sensing the takeoff before his feet moved, she launched into motion, running beside him down the driveway and into the road.
Twenty-five minutes and three miles later, Steve rounded the final curve toward the dock his ma had mentioned, not far from his home. His quads ached as his feet pounded against the dirt beneath him and he pushed himself harder up that final hill. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, washing away the debilitating feelings he had earlier, and he grunted as he neared the top of the hill. Once he got there, it was literally all downhill. And he’d be able to jump into the refreshing lake below. Molly lobbed beside him, her tongue rolled out to the side of her mouth, panting. She bounded along, looking into his eyes, and he could have sworn she smiled up at him.
His mind wandered to Yvonne first and then Gatsby, and he wondered if Gatsby’s protein treatment was helping him feel better yet. She’d made Gatsby’s chemo appointment before she left that morning, but in Steve’s experience, that didn’t always mean the client would show up. He thought of the way her eyes widened when Sophy entered. How she stiffened, face tight. Yvonne was never the jealous type, but something between them shifted after Sophy’s visit. He wasn’t exactly sure why it mattered one way or another—Yvonne hadn’t been in his life for years. And she was maybe even engaged, though to be honest, his gut instinct was telling him otherwise. Even if Sophy was his girlfriend, what did she care?
Still, he didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t like Yvonne not knowing the truth. The fact that he hadn’t had a lover in months or a girlfriend in years shouldn’t be important, but somehow it
was. Grasping Molly’s leash a little tighter, Steve picked up his pace down the hill.
Orange streaked across the azure sky, morphing it into swirls of pink and red. As he finished his third mile, he slowed to a stop at the edge of the lake, looking for the new boat, but not seeing it. Hmm. Maybe Frank had taken it out for the evening.
Sweat covered his torso, shoulders, neck and back. Steve ran a hand through his hair, shaking the moisture away. The setting sun glittering across the lake beckoned him for a quick dip, quirking its proverbial finger. Sighing, he looked down at his own squiggled reflection. With the lake’s rippled current, his scar was almost invisible. He squinted, imagining what he would look if he had never had the accident—it had been so long since he’d seen his face fresh from any scar, he almost didn’t remember what he looked like without it.
Living with such a visible reminder of his life’s biggest mistake wasn’t easy… especially in college. Back then the scar was more fresh—red and blistered. People stared. Kids cringed. Girls avoided him. He coped with that by becoming UNH’s biggest social butterfly; compensating for what he lacked in looks with charm and charisma. He partied nearly every night of his first semester freshman year and blew off classes every day. The partying scored him a lot of weed, but not a lot of dates. By the second semester, it didn’t matter that he’d won over all those friends. He’d been issued warnings that if he didn’t bring his grades back up, he’d be kicked out of school. So, he launched from late night parties to late night cram sessions, eventually realizing that he liked learning a whole lot more than he liked parties. He sped through undergrad and veterinary school, finishing summa cum laude two semesters early. Heat flashed across his cheeks with the memory. Still, he would have happily settled for magna cum laude in exchange for a few dates. It wasn’t until late in veterinary school that he learned his scar didn’t make him hideous. As he got older, he realized that some girls even dug the scar.
Healing You Page 3