“Me too, which is why I told Jack we were driving up to see him soon.”
My head whipped to his. “You did?”
“Yes. I hate sneaking around, too. You’re mine, and everyone needs to know.” He gave me a slow kiss and rolled on top of me.
“And they need to know right now. I’ve waited long enough.”
12
Danielle
“Next week?”
I rolled my eyes as my head fell back on my desk chair.
“Sure, I’ll let you know.”
“Right,” my friend Jessenia huffed on the other line. “That’s Danielle code for ‘it’s no, but I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.’ All you do is work, and it takes three days for you to return a text, and then it’s a thumbs up emoji or a k. You know that irks the shit out of me.”
I laughed, wishing I could, or wanted to, give her the answer she was looking for each week. For almost a year, I’d avoided everyone, friends and family, although my brother gave me no choice but to speak to him when he called. I’d tried avoiding him, too, right after the divorce, until he’d showed up at my job, refusing to leave unless I spoke to him.
The urge to be alone didn’t mean that I didn’t miss Jessenia or my other friends or that they wouldn’t wholeheartedly support me—if I’d let them. At first, I was just embarrassed as all hell for being taken for such a fool, and then I’d retreated so far into myself that I lost the desire and the know-how to be social. Most of my friends had stopped contacting me, but Jess wouldn’t let it go. I both looked forward to and dreaded the day that she did.
“I’m sorry, I really am. It’s that—”
“I miss you. We all do. Why don’t you talk to us instead of closing yourself off?”
That was a great question. Maybe it was because they’d all mentioned something was up with Cliff being away so much and always questioned why I wasn’t more suspicious. I’d waved them all off without a second thought, never thinking I’d have this much egg on my face. Or maybe, it was because they were all doing so well, and while I wanted to be happy for them, I couldn’t find it in me. Just like when when I was a kid, I watched others have a life without participating in one of my own.
“I miss you guys, too. And soon, I promise. I’m sorry to cut you short, but I have a patient and—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to you next Thursday. You’ll say yes one day. And I won’t stop trying until you do.
I smiled and held in a chuckle, knowing she meant every word.
Shoving the phone into my pocket, I walked into Jack’s therapy room, not at all surprised to see he’d started the session without me.
“Okay,” Jack rolled onto his side to do side leg lifts. “Rangers or Islanders?” He flashed a sly grin over his shoulder in between grunts.
In almost a month, Jack had become my hardest working patient. He was itching to walk, but he had to focus on strength first. He still had a lot to come back from, but judging by his relentless determination, I hoped he’d walk out of here with no issues and never have to look back.
I shook off the pang of disappointment at the thought of the day Jack would be discharged and returned my focus to the here and now. We’d cultivated a friendship I didn’t allow with other patients. Our sessions were filled with smack talking and wordless nods of encouragement when I’d notice Jack’s sweaty blond brow crinkle in frustration. I’d assign other patients exercises and keep close track of their form and progress, but I was never this emotionally invested in their recovery. The thought of how wrong my attachment to Jack was weighed on me more and more. All that, combined with the pangs of my residual childhood crush, and Jack Taylor had become the highlight of my day even if I wouldn’t openly admit it—to him or myself.
“Slow, Jack.” I wrapped my hand around his ankle to mimic a better pace. “Remember, form—not speed—is what I want.”
“And I always do whatever you want.” His voice was gritty but still somehow smooth. I took a sharp breath to ward off the gooey feeling in my belly caused by his comment in that buttery tone. Jack was a flirt, or it’d been so long I didn’t remember what friendly banter felt like.
I gave him the best scowl I could pull off and shook my head. “How does it feel? If you’re in pain, you should stop.”
“No. I can’t stop.” His head popped up in a panic, his cocky smile now faded into a hard line. “I need to walk.”
“And you will, Jack. You trust me, don’t you?” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Rushing it will set you back. You’re doing great, just slow it down.”
I stilled when he took my hand in his and squeezed. Again, not right, but I couldn’t refuse him the comfort.
His eyes darted to the floor before he nodded. “I trust you, I’m just … antsy, you know?”
“I know.” I let a smile curve my lips. “And Rangers.”
