She rubs her face as she looks up, showing the exhaustion lining her eyes.
“So, to answer your concerns, yes. When I made a few queries in a small business group and Mr. Jay came calling with a very fair buyout offer, I had to hear him out. I had no choice. The moral high ground is a bigger luxury than it seems. Would you slam the door on opportunities when they knock?”
When it’s Harry Jay, hell yes.
Absolutely.
Without question.
Ideally, closing the door to trap him inside with a napalm fire raging.
“Dr. Ezzie, I get it. But he won’t be any good for Pawsome Hearts,” I say weakly. “You know he’s only after the land. The minute he thinks you’ll sell and close up shop, he’ll be on you like a hawk. Doesn’t keeping the clinic going meananything?”
Too far.
Ezzie’s eyes start misting, and I instantly regret my words.
“Only the whole world.” Her voice cracks, and guilt drags me low. “But I’m just one woman, Lena. I’m so tired of swimming.”
“Let me help! Whatever you need.” So long as it’s not number crunching. She needs to keep her CPA for that.
“I appreciate that, really, but I’m afraid you can’t. Not with this. I’ve always loved how you’re so willing to fight, but sometimes hard decisions are inevitable. I suggest you brace yourself, and so will I.”
She slumps back in her chair, looking like any fight she ever had has drained from her already. I douse the feeble protests burning on my tongue.
She’s right that she’s only one woman stretched to her breaking point. You can practically see the boulder on her shoulders and her spirit buckling under it.
No, revealing the full horror of who and what Harry is won’t help today. Not when her mind is made up.
I just don’t have the heart to pile more guilt on her brittle shoulders.
“I should go.” I gesture to the door with my thumb. “Good night, Dr. Ezzie.”
“Good night, Lena.”
Time to get home, take a long soak in the tub, and figure out my next move.
Dr. Ezzie was right about one thing, though. I am a fighter, and I have no intention of giving up, even if I have to go it alone.
Sighing, I grab my bag and jacket and head out into the rainy evening.
At least, Itry.
What actually happens is I face-plant into a massive wall of a chest.
When I look up, it’s Brady looking down at me.
His easy, disarming smile disappears when he gets a good look at the pain etched on my face.
Nice knowing I must look as grim as I feel.
“Lena,” he says, taking my shoulders and steadying me like I weigh nothing. “You look like you could use that drink today.”
Oh, this boy has a death wish.
“Holy shit, take a hint. I really don’t think—”
“Just one drink. Hear me out.” He holds up his hands. “No BS, no hookups, I promise. We can even just do coffee if you want.”
