Healing You

by Katana Collins

  Panting and happy, Gatsby nuzzled his head beneath her hand. She bent and placed a kiss between his ears as his caramel eyes darted between looking at her and Steve. Was it possible for a dog to be so damn intuitive? Because if she didn’t know better, she’d think that Gatsby was insinuating something with that simple expression of his. She scratched under his chin. “He and I are a lot alike, you know.” She eyed Steve before clipping the leash to Gatsby and whistling for Ruckus.

  Steve collected Molly’s leash as well, taking an extra moment to squeeze her hand before releasing it. “Lucky for me, you smell a lot better.”

  ‡

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tuesday morning took forever to arrive. Steve pulled his car into a spot in front of his practice, hopping out with a quick time check to his phone. Though it wasn’t yet nine a.m., the sun was already beating down and he quickly ducked under the maple trees to escape its summery wrath.

  He texted Amanda, letting her know he’d be there in a few, before he rushed down the street to Elsa’s Diner, pushing through the front door. Her diner was connected to the one and only inn Maple Grove had—aptly named the Maple Grove Inn. Sitting in a corner booth, snuggled up against the window, were Joey and Gladys. Steve almost did a double take but forced his attention forward. The local librarian and owner of the nail salon? Together? He shook his head.

  “What’s so funny?” Elsa’s smirk fit perfectly with her sassy stance. Even though she was his mother’s age, she had enough spunk left in her to keep up with the twenty-somethings that dined here almost daily during summer vacation. She cocked a hip and propped one fisted hand there, a towel draping down from between her knuckles.

  “Just… admiring all the lovebirds our little town is producing.”

  She arched a brow and relaxed her stance. “Oh yeah. Pretty new from what I’ve heard,” she said in an exaggerated whisper. “But according to Connie, Gladys didn’t go home all weekend.”

  Good for them.

  The front door jingled as it opened, and Elsa perked up looking behind him before slumping back to the counter. “Everything okay?” Steve asked.

  “Lila is late. Again.” She flung the towel on the counter, wiping furiously at non-existent dirt, much like Ma did when she was upset. Then with a sigh, she pulled her attention back to Steve. “What can I get you?”

  “Two iced coffees, please.”

  She grabbed two plastic cups, filling them with ice. “How’s Cam and Lydia’s wedding planning going? Maddie was in here the other day—sweet kid. She’s so excited about getting a stepmom.”

  “I think it’s going well. They’re having trouble finding a venue I think, but I’m not really privy to the details,” he admitted, shrugging. “That’s more in Ma and Lydia’s wheelhouse. You’re coming to the engagement party, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, filling the cups. “Room for milk?”

  Steve nodded as the door behind him flew open, nearly slamming against a table of diners. Lila rushed in, tying the apron around her waist. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry—”

  Elsa’s already thin lips nearly disappeared as she pursed them tightly together. “That’s twice since Sunday you’ve been late.”

  Aw, shit, Steve thought. I just want my damn coffee.

  “I know, I know.” Lila rolled her eyes to Steve and he slipped her a quick smile before grabbing the coffees and moving to the cream and sugar station beside the counter. “I woke up late and then Benny took forever to go to the bathroom and I couldn’t leave until he did…”

  “I told you that you weren’t ready for a dog!”

  “I am ready. We are just in an adjustment period. Do I need to remind you I’m twenty-five years old?”

  Elsa snorted and the conversation dropped—something Steve was pretty certain damn near everyone in the diner was happy for. He turned to leave and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Sophy sitting at a table on the far end of the room. Just his luck, she looked up, her gaze connecting with his before he could sneak out. Damn. So close.

  Steve snaked his way through the tables, coming up to her. “I thought you left town already?”

  Her once warm and bubbly personality now froze over like their lake in the winter. “I did. But I had to come back. Unfortunately for you, with this deal going through, I’ll be back and forth a lot.” She took a sip from her coffee mug, looking at him from over the brim. Though most of her face was covered—masked—he could still see the pain resonating there. He’d never called her after their date last week. Granted, he never said he’d call her… in fact, he thought it had been pretty clear to both of them that the date had been disastrous. But judging from her closed demeanor, maybe he’d assumed wrong.

  The iced coffees were already beginning to sweat against his hands and he set them onto the table before sliding into the seat across from her. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out better with us, Sophy. It just didn’t feel like we had that much in common.”

  She gave an eye roll at that, pushing her uneaten eggs around on her plate. “Yeah. That’s for sure. You see me as some kind of devil woman.”

  “Hey, that’s not true,” he said. But even as he spoke the words in an effort to make her feel better, he couldn’t help but feel she was sort of right. He didn’t love what she was planning for his town. And if his friends and family lost their jobs and businesses because of this project? Yeah, he would blame her for it.

  She sighed heavily, that dimple of hers nowhere in sight. “There’s just got to be a way that we can go forward with this development and still maintain the town you all love. If the locals hate what we’re doing, it’s not going to be successful anyway.”

  “You’re probably right. Tourism is great and all, but the locals here will determine its success.”

  She grabbed her pen, making a note before leaning back and tapping it against the table top. “I avoided Latte Da this morning. Thought I was doing you a favor by coming here instead.”

  He gave a breathy chuckle at that. “I go to Lex’s for the good stuff—lattes, baked goods. But the straight up drip coffee here? Elsa’s got the damn best in town.” He stood up from the chair. Then, leaning over and grabbing her pen, he crossed Starbucks off of her list. “You might as well strike that one right now,” he winked before grabbing his coffees.

  She shook her head, dark curls bouncing at her shoulders. “Right. Good call.”

  He tapped her notes. “You’ll figure it out. I think you’re right—there’s got to be a compromise in there somewhere.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Steve. I hope we can be… friends.”

  He nodded, backing toward the door. “Friends I can do—for now.” He pointed at her, narrowing his gaze playfully before shouldering the door open, an extra skip in his step as he walked back over to his practice.

  As he walked in, Amanda lit up at the extra iced coffee, but he shook his head at her with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry… it’s not yours today.”

  Amanda jerked her neck back, giving him some playful attitude. “Then who in the hell is that for?”

  As she asked the question, Yvonne entered, Gatsby’s leash wrapped around her wrist. Steve held out the iced coffee, presenting it to Eve. “Oh, wow. This is a full service veterinary clinic, I see.” She took a sip and gave a satisfied moan.

  Amanda grunted, going back to her paperwork as Steve slid her a look. “Oh, calm down. I’ll bring you one from Lex’s tomorrow.”

  “With one pump of caramel,” she added.

  “Fine. And if you pass your summer finals this week, I’ll get you iced lattes every work day for a month.”

  “And if I ace them?”

  “We’ll add a little whiskey to those coffees after work.”

  Yvonne smirked, shaking her head. “Some things don’t change… still motivating your team with alcohol, huh?”

  “Only now I’ve upgraded from Natty Light, and I’m not seventeen, passing them out to my friends on the
sidelines at football games.” Gatsby jumped up on his hind legs, placing two giant paws just below Steve’s lapels. “Well, hey there to you too!” He smoothed his palm over the top of Gatsby’s head, curving his hand around the back of his ears.

  “Gatsby!” Even though Yvonne was scolding, there was a sort of lightness to her tone. “He never does that.” She gave a gentle tug on his leash and he hopped back down, sitting at her feet.

  “Oh, I don’t mind.” Steve bent, giving him a treat from his pocket before looking back to Yvonne. There was a rippling feeling in his chest that surged down his arms at the sight of her bright eyes locked onto him. When he was awarded with that smile of hers… damn. She was just breathtaking. That same crippling nervousness that he hadn’t felt in years until now—until she entered his life again—was back. Would she ever come around to him? Would she ever accept his apology? Or would he die trying? The questions bubbled in his mind, percolating, threatening to spill out his mouth. Instead, he only asked, “How’s his appetite been?”

  “Amazing. Eating and drinking so much. I have to come home to let him out a couple of times a day.”

  Steve cringed at hearing that. It was the biggest complaint he heard when a dog started on pre-chemo treatments. “Yeah, that’s the steroid. It’s an amazing drug, but they drink a ton of water while on it.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m fortunate enough to make my own schedule most days. It’s not usually a problem.”

  Man, she loved these animals. He could see the kindness and love radiating off of her any time she was near them. And it, in turn, just made him appreciate her more, too.

  Steve led them into one of the exam rooms and Yvonne took a seat as he pulled Gatsby onto the scale. “Wow, you are a big guy, huh?” he said, making a note of Gatsby’s ninety-two pounds.

  “He’s always had a big appetite.”

  “That’s good. We want to keep his weight healthy for as long as possible. When he loses his appetite, I have some tricks for getting him excited about food.”

  He heard Yvonne’s swallow from across the room. “When?” Her voice was so small, meek and mousey, and so unlike her usual ‘in-command’ nature.

  “Or if,” he added. “It’s pretty typical both in the beginning and toward…” He cleared his throat.

  “And toward the end,” she finished for him.

  Steve nodded, setting the clipboard down. “But hopefully that’s a long way away. Gatsby’s aspirates came back and it was confirmed as lymphoma. The good news is that it’s B-cell lymphoma, which is a less lengthy regimen, and typically dogs have a higher success rate. We use a series of four drugs—doxorubicin, vincristine, steroids, and cyclophosphamide, along with the protein enzyme from last week and mix up what we use which week so that the cancer doesn’t come to expect it—”

  “Steve,” Yvonne interrupted his rehearsed explanation. The one he’d given a hundred times to dog owners through the years. “What you’re saying—it’s—I can’t even follow it.” Tears filled her eyes and she swiped a finger where one tear escaped down her cheek. “Just… talk to me. Not at me.”

  Pain spiked in his heart. He hated seeing those tears. Hated that he was the bearer of bad news here. Moving beside her, he pulled his chair over and sat, putting his hand over top of hers. “Basically, cancer is a tricky bitch. And it’ll start to recognize the medicines we’re using and possibly adapt to survive despite the drugs.”

  Yvonne nodded, comprehension relaxing her features. “So you mix up which medicines you use and when?”

  “Exactly. It’s like a boxing match. You can’t always use the same sequence of punches, otherwise your opponent will know how and when to block.”

  With closed eyes, she inhaled a shaky breath, and Steve gave her the time she needed to calm herself. His thumb moved in small strokes over the back of her silky hand until she finally opened her eyes, looking back to him. “Well, I’ve heard that you’re the Evander Holyfield of cancer. So let’s knock this bitch down for the count, huh?”

  Steve’s laugh came out through his nose despite his efforts to keep his mouth tightly shut. “You’ve never seen a boxing match in your life, have you?”

  “Hey!” she shouted, punching him in the shoulder. “I even had a reference!”

  “That reference is, like, fifteen years old, and the only reason you know that man’s name is from Friends.”

  “You watched Friends?”

  “You know what? Give me that coffee back—I take it back!” He reached across her and she jumped up, holding the coffee above her head as if he wasn’t several inches taller than her. She squealed, and as he rushed to steal it from her, she started drinking it as fast as she could, sucking the coffee through the straw.

  Steve had her cornered against the wall with nowhere to go, and he dove his fingers into her ribs, tickling, searching for that one spot—the mothership of tickle spots for Eve. Side of the ribcage, about six inches below her armpits.

  She snorted, coffee dribbling down her chin, unable to control her laughter. Oh, Eve. It hasn’t even begun yet.

  Her body froze, and then jerked as her pealing laughter turned into screams. There it is! Her feet slid out from under her, but Steve caught her body weight, keeping her standing against the wall. “Oh, my God! Stop!” She managed to cry out through the laughter. “You can have it! You can have the coffee back!”

  He stopped tickling, encasing her ribs instead, he stroked his thumbs up and down as she caught her breath. “I’ll take this instead.” He ran his tongue along where some coffee had spilled on her neck. He kissed his way up to her ear and then moved his lips just above hers.

  Her pink tongue darted out, swiping nervously against her pout. “I have coffee breath.”

  “I don’t care.” Steve leaned down and brushed his lips to hers. Her chest heaved with each breath, pushing against his chest, and it took every bit of restraint not to lift her on top of his exam table. But she wasn’t ready for that yet. And he could wait. He’d waited thirteen years for her, and he’d wait another thirteen if he had to.

  He pulled back from the kiss, careful to not allow his greed to overpower her needs and desires. And as much as he wanted to kiss her again, dive his tongue inside of her and taste her sweet honey, he didn’t. Instead, he cupped her face, trailing his fingers over her jaw and cheekbones, and brushed her blond hair back from her forehead.

  “I’m going to take Gatsby in the back and get his chemo drip started. I’ll keep you posted, okay?”

  He backed away from her, lifting Gatsby’s leash. “Wait—can I come too? To sit with him?”

  Steve’s heart constricted. “Legally, I can’t let you. There are chemo agents and bio-hazardous materials.”

  “I don’t care about the risks.”

  “Well, I do. But he won’t be long—thirty minutes or so. Once the drugs are in his system, I still need him to stay so that I can observe him for a bit. I can bring you back to sit with him for that.”

  “Someone will be with him, right?”

  Steve nodded. “I’ll see to it. Amanda can sit with Gatsby.”

  Yvonne’s hand shot to her mouth and she began nibbling the edge of her nail. “And you?”

  Steve froze, his grip around the leather strap tightening. “I’ll be right here. With you—if that’s what you want.”

  She gave a tight nod. “I’d like that.”

  So would I, Eve. So would I.

  ‡

  Chapter Sixteen

  For three weeks, Steve and Yvonne had a schedule. Once a week, she’d arrive to find him waiting for her, an extra iced coffee in hand. Gatsby would be set up with Amanda in the back. Steve would wait with Yvonne. Once Gatsby’s IV’s were finished, they’d sit together in the exam room until the medicine had worked its way through and he seemed well enough to finish his recovery at home. But since that first week of chemo, they had barely touched, let alone shared another kiss. It had been all flirtations and heavy eye contact—but that was it. And with
each visit, Yvonne found herself wanting more.

  It had been going well. Insanely well, actually. As she pulled her car into the parking lot next to his practice, Gatsby sat patiently in his seat, looking out the window.

  Her phone rang just as she turned the car off. Carrie. With the race day and adoption event rapidly approaching, she had no choice but to answer. Especially since Carrie knew Tuesdays were chemo days in the morning. She knew better than to call unless it was really important.

  “Carrie, what’s up?”

  “He signed up for the run.”

  Yvonne felt taken aback and confused all at once. “Steve? I know, he told me weeks ago. I mean, he’s hosting the damn thing, I assumed—”

  “Not him. Your ex—Jonah.”

  “Jonah’s running in the race?” But—that didn’t even make sense. In all their time together, she’d never seen him run once. Sure, he worked out. But he always felt like running would strip the muscles he worked so hard to build. “When did he sign up?”

  “This morning. Just now.”

  The icy grip on her heart she always felt when Jonah came to her attention took hold once more. It was another grand gesture—just like the flowers and the chocolates. She’d seen him around town a few times; in an effort to not live her life for another thirteen years as she had with Steve, she did her best to give cordial smiles and the occasional wave back if he initiated a greeting first. But that was it. That’s as far as she’d taken it. She hadn’t even said a physical word to him or her parents since that disastrous dinner.

  Yvonne took a deep breath, calming that tremor of frustration she was so familiar with when Jonah was around. “Well, it’s an open event. Anyone who wants to be there has the right to sign up.”

  “Yeah, I know that,” Carrie said. “I just wanted to make sure you knew and were…I don’t know. Okay.”

  “Of course.” She paused for a moment, a breath catching in her throat. “But, if he fills out any paperwork to adopt an animal, we need to be sure it’s because he actually wants one. Not because he’s trying to impress me.”