The second the car was stationary, a small white head popped up in the window, paws on the glass. That would be Cupid, Ms. Keystone’s sidekick. The second he saw me andMarlowe, he started barking like his tail was on fire, but he wasn’t one-quarter the size of my Aussie.
Growing up in Winterbury meant knowing everyone—and their dog—even if I did prefer keeping to myself out on the farm. And I also knew that I needed to get inside the clinic first because if Cupid got seen before Marlowe, I’d be at the mercy of a woman who liked to tell stories about when she was a ballerina in New York City.
Thing was, Ms. Keystone was never a ballerina in NYC. At least outside of her imagination. Come to think of it, she probably shouldn’t be driving…
My footsteps quickened as I watched her slam the car door and hoist Cupid and his underbite into her arms.
Juggling Marlowe, I let myself inside, calling out before the door closed all the way. “Hello.”
Why the hell wasn’t anyone at the counter? Why was the place empty? It was early but not that early. Impatient, I went to the bell on the counter and tapped on it. Three times.
A bang followed by a low groan echoed from somewhere in the back.
So someone is back there.Why didn’t they answer right away? I had an injured dog!
“Hello,” I called again but was too impatient to stand around and wait. Ms. Keystone would be here any minute. Pulling from the counter, I started toward the open archway that led into the back.
“Coming!” someone called, but I was already in motion.
We collided seconds later, our bodies smacking together and bouncing back. Marlowe jolted and bucked, nearly leaping out of my arms. Scrambling back, my boots scuffed the floor while I tried to keep from dropping him.
“Easy,” I assured him, regaining our balance. “It’s okay.”
Marlowe whimpered again, and I ran my hand over his soft fur to soothe him.
A low grunt from the floor had me cursing under my breath, and I shifted Marlowe’s weight to reach down to help the older man to his feet. A jolt of something moved through me the second our hands clasped, but I brushed it off instantly, too worried I’d hurt him.
“So sorry, Dr. Thomas. Are you okay?” I asked, pulling him easily to his feet. After falling like that, I expected him to need more help.
Again, thatsomethingin the atmosphere made me pause, and I fully focused on the doctor. The second our eyes collided, recognition shot through me like an emergency flare in a dim sky.
“You.” An accusation. Perhaps a snarl. Definite shock.
The hand still clasped in mine spasmed, and on instinct, my grip tightened, which kept him from pulling free.
We froze, two people in the present as the past held us hostage with an assault of memories and a dueling mixture of friendship and betrayal.
“Archer,” he said, his voice exactly as I remembered it but also… different.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded as my heart tried valiantly to regulate its beating.
He bristled instantly, the look of superiority he’d mastered years ago pinching his face. A face that had once been so familiar but now was also different.
“This ismyfather’s clinic,” he retorted, ripping his hand free of mine.
Oh, so haughty.“This ismytown.”
“Oh?” His dark brow arched. “I didn’t know you owned it.”
I gritted my teeth. God, he was infuriating. He knew what I meant! “You don’t live here.”
He lifted one shoulder. “I’m visiting.”
“You never come home for Christmas.” My words were a sharp punctuation, bursting the tense bubble sucking all the oxygen out of the room.
With it gone, the words hung in the air, crackling with implication and history we never acknowledged.
Why did I say that? Why?Now it looked like I was keeping track of all the times he didn’t come home. Which was absolutely ridiculous because who had time for that?
