Fuck.
KATIE
So life took a downswing. It happens.
It’s bad enough that Wayne decided to ditch me — apparently for a camping trip, according to Jenny. That was a hard pill to swallow, especially since I was trying not to react in front of Jenny. I’m sure my poker face isn’t as great as I’d like it to be, but I’d rather not flaunt that the father of my child ran off without warning.
And that last, the pregnancy? Not exactly great news. By now the reality of it has sunk in, and while it could be worse … well,howcould it be worse? I’m not sure.
The last two days have been nothing but a blur. Thank fuck it’s Friday. It’s only 9:00 AM and I’m ready to collapse. I’ve been running on empty since that little positive sign showed up.
I managed to call my doctor and get in for an appointment next week, but the thought of doing more than that makes me want to pass out.
My plan for today is to catch up on paperwork and stay holed up in my office as much as I can manage. I don’t have any house calls on the schedule, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to camp out at my desk until the end of the day.
Friday is the only day Dr. Matthews never works, so the office is still dark when I get in. The techs are busy setting up for Angeline’s appointments and checking through inventory.
“Oh, Dr. McArthur, there’s a letter on your desk,” the head tech says. “It came in after you left yesterday.”
“Thanks, Melissa.”
It’s probably junk mail, but I’ll take a look at it. I set my bag down on my chair before picking up the envelope. It’s heftier than I expect, and my brows furrow as I flip it over to check the sender.
David Chase.
Why the hell is he sending me actual mail? He usually just calls me if he needs something. I frown as I tear the envelope open and then scan the page.
My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as I read the letter. I feel sick, and it has nothing to do with my usual morning sickness.
This is a fucking summons. Acourtsummons.
David Chase is fucking suing me.
This… has to be a joke. It has to be. Some cruel, twisted, absurd joke that isn’t funny even a little bit.
The barrel-riding horse — who had a canon fracture — fell again. He put her back in the ring, a fullmonthbefore I approved, and he’s blaming me. Both the horse and the rider were injured, and he’s trying to put me on the hook for both of their injuries. I feel awful, of course, but this isn’t my fault.
This is, by definition,hisfault. I told him not to fucking do this. He’s been giving me nothing but issues and attitude since I started working with him, comparing me to Dr. Sarah at every turn.
And now … this. Right fucking now, of all times. Fuck him.
I collapse into my chair, exhausted and overwhelmed. Tears burn behind my lashes, and I toss the letter down in frustrationto press the heels of my palms against my eyes. What the hell am I supposed to do now? He’s not suing the clinic, he’s going after me, specifically. I don’t have the money for a lawyer, and even if I did, whoever he hires is going to blow the poor sucker I can afford out of the water.I’m not usually one to cry, but I’m so worn down that I can’t do anything but sob. Tears pour down my face in a rush, but I bite my lip in an attempt to keep anyone from hearing me.
I’m so deep in my own panic that I don’t even notice when Angeline walks in.
“Katie, honey.” Angeline’s voice is calm and quiet, and she wraps her arm around my shoulders as I shake with tears. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Dr. Sarah is close with Mr. Chase. I’m sure she’ll talk to him.”
I look up at her, startled that she’s already heard. But she gives me a knowing glance and I remember there aren’t any secrets around here.
“Besides,” she goes on. “David’s a hothead. He’ll probably change his mind in a week.”
Everything she’s saying is technically true, and I’d be saying the same thing in her shoes, but that doesn’t make it any easier to believe. She’s not the one with a fat stack of legal paperwork on her desk.
If the asshole had justlistenedto me, I wouldn’t have this paperwork here, either.
Worst of all, that poor horse is now probably going to be lame for the rest of her life. David Chase isn’t the type to keep horses around unless they make him money, and there isn’t a huge market out there for horses that can’t race, work, or be ridden at all. She’ll be lucky if she isn’t stall-bound.
“I know, I know,” I say, sounding absolutely miserable even to my own ears. “I just really can’t handle this right now.”
