“He’s not going anywhere, Rosebud. He’ll stay until you do.”
“As long as he keeps away from me, I don’t care.”
“Now, that’s a lie. He’s your father, you care.” Taking a sandwich out of the pan, he put it on a plate, then slid it in front of her. “This thing between you is not going away.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do.”
“Leave it, Jake.” Her face was shuttered.
“Come on, Branna, the man is living with my parents, so every time I go there, I see him and he talks to me. Tells me about you and what you mean to him. Give him a chance to at least tell you his side of the story.”
“I didn’t ask your parents to take him in, nor did I ask Declan O’Donnell to come here, so don’t tell me what I have to do, Jake. I’m an adult and can make my own decisions.”
“So what, you’re just going to avoid him? Stay out of Howling until he hopefully leaves?”
“Don’t talk to me about avoidance, McBride.” She tore the crust off the sandwich and began to shred it between her fingers. “You spent years learning to heal with those hands.” She pointed to the one he held a spatula in. “Don’t you think it’s about time you faced up to why you walked away from that?”
“We’re not talking about me.” Jake put another sandwich into the pan, because he needed to do something.
“So, it’s okay for you to poke at my raw spots, but I can’t do the same? Or are your demons more important than mine?”
“You know what happened and my reasons why I walked away, Branna.”
“And that’s it?” She was angry now, her body rigid, eyes flashing. “You were traumatized, so case closed. You’re just giving up on what you love? You going to stay hidden here, Jake, tucked away from the world and the career that you dedicated years and years of your life to?”
He was back there again, with the blood and screams of the children. Their eyes pleaded with him to take away their pain. Live or die, they didn’t care; they just wanted to be free of it.
“You know nothing about it.” Jake tended to get ugly when people made him face the fact that he no longer did what he was born to do.
“And you know nothing about me either.” She was standing now, hands clenched into tight fists.
“He’s your father, Branna. The man raised you, and from what I can tell, he’s not a bad guy. He deserves at least a chance to talk to you.” Jake tried to sound calm and reasonable, but his words were cold and clipped. His palms had begun to sweat and his head was filled with visions, but no one looking at him would know what was going on inside. Just like Branna, he’d learned to hide.
“I deserved more from him!” she cried. “I deserved his love and comfort, but he gave me nothing, turned his back and forgot me. I don’t have to forgive him anything.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Branna.” Jake put the spatula down and moved to face her across the bench. “But I think it will help you if you at least just talk to him, and if you can’t find a way forward, then you will have given it a shot, and he can leave knowing he tried.”
Her face was flushed and she was breathing fast. She was staring at him as if he’d betrayed her, and maybe in her eyes he had, because he was forcing her to face something she didn’t want to face. He didn’t want to acknowledge that she was trying to do the same with him.
“And what about you, McBride? Are you going to find a way forward, or live in this town fixing cars while your adoring public makes excuses as to why one of their golden boys copped out on life?”
“I didn’t cop out.” Jake braced his hands on the bench. “I just don’t want to be a doctor anymore.” His words were a low growl, which most people would realize meant he was angry, but not her. She simply growled back.
“If that is truly the case, then fine, but will that choice make you happy? Can you say that, Jake? Say you’re really happy not doing what you love?”
“We are not talking about me, Branna. We’re talking about you,” Jake said slowly, keeping his words even, when inside his body was a furnace of seething emotion.
She placed her hands before his and leaned forward, their eyes now level. Hers shot green sparks at him, little lasers of hurt and anger.
“You can’t say it because you’re not. In fact, you’re miserable. I see the sadness in your eyes, the sorrow that grips you when you don’t think I’m looking. It hurts that you’re not practicing medicine anymore, hurts way down deep that you’re not helping people.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” But she did, because she was the only one to have ever spoken to him this way, the only one who made Jake face how hard it would be to give up medicine for the rest of his life.
“Oh, I know all right. I know you’re scared and that you’re hurting,” she said, backing away from him. “Because I’ve been scared and hurt too, Jake, but I don’t need you or my father, because I’ve survived without you both, and I will do so again.”
Before he could reach her, she’d left, slamming the door behind her. Jake stood rooted to the spot, replaying her words in his head. Each one had been thrown at him with deadly accuracy, he realized.
