I laughed awkwardly, mostly because I didn’t know what else to say to that. He was cute, and as Remington swore, he seemed to be into me, too. So why did I feel so insecure?
“I can’t date patients,” I said quickly, and while that was often an easy fix, it seemed to be the only thing I could think of to say just then. So, I was surprised when Jake laughed.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both.”
“I will gladly find another clinic if that’s the issue, Ms. Blake,” Jake said, and my heart began to beat rapidly in my chest. I shook my head, but I couldn’t resist the smile that played on my lips.
“Lay back, Mr. Collins, so we can start some massage therapy on your muscles.”
I felt my cell phone buzz in my pocket, and I made a mental note to check it when I stepped out.
“So,” Jake said, lying back on the bed with his hands laced behind his head. “How about that date?”
“What date?” I made another note on my computer, trying to play off the fact that I was feeling unbelievably awkward.
“The one I asked you on last week, but that you never gave me an answer to,” he said with a laugh, making me smile despite myself.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I said.
My phone buzzed again. Whoever had just called was calling again.
“Why not?” asked Jake, supporting himself on his elbows to look at me. “We seem to have chemistry, no?”
“You barely know me.” I scooted the stool over to Jake’s bedside, rolling up his pant leg for access to the injury.
“Nobody knows each other before they someday do,” he said. “That’s what dates are for.”
My phone buzzed. Again. I cleared my throat and wheeled back, aggravated, grabbing the phone from my pocket to check the screen. It was my mother, and she’d called four times now.
“I apologize,” I said to Jake, unable to tear my gaze from the name on the screen. “But I have to take this. Can you give me a moment?”
“Of course,” he said, and I backed out of the room, closing the door behind me, then rushed to seek shelter somewhere private. I passed one of our medical assistants on the way.
“Mr. Collins is in room six,” I breathed, passing Kayla in the hallway. “Can you find another PT to finish his session?”
“On it, boss,” said Kayla. I rounded the corner, finding the perfect spot for privacy.
“Mom,” I hissed when she answered, closing myself into a large supply closet. “Is everything okay? I’m kind of at work.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” she was crying, crying hard, and a vice tightened around my heart, squeezing until I thought I might just collapse under the weight of the doom suddenly hanging over me.
“Who died?” I whispered. “Mom? Mom, are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I—I have news,” Mom blubbered. At least, that’s what I think she said.
“Mom, where are you? Are you hurt?” I covered my free ear with my hand, even though the silence was heavy here. She continued to cry, and I had no idea what to do or how to react for a long moment.
A moment later, some fumbling and speaking in the background, and a man’s voice came on the line.
“Is this Peyton Blake?” he asked, and I nodded like an idiot before realizing that he couldn’t see me.
“Yes, this is she. What’s—what’s going on?”
“My name is Fisher Hudson. I’m the oncologist here at Eagle River Medical.”
“Oncology?” I whispered, hand fluttering to my lips. “My mom, is she--?”
