The paint on the door was peeling, and the number was tilting at an awkward angle. It was room 3, but it was next to seven. All the numbers were completely off. When I pushed it open, I had to shove it a bit with my shoulder to get it to budge. A dingy floral bedspread greeted me, with matching curtains that were slightly more lively than the bedspread, but not by much.
I dropped my bag on the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, the springs protesting beneath my weight. Itwasn’t comfortable, but it didn’t need to be. I wasn’t here to stay for long; I was here to get through this, and then I’d be out of here.
I pulled out my phone and found a group text waiting. The thread was started this morning by Brittany.
BRITTANY: Let me know when you get to Big Bear, Hope. And can we meet at your office, Jay?
JAY: Yeah, sure. It would be a good place to talk without interruptions.
Seeing his name on my screen caused my heart to clench. Three months. I wasn’t as mad as I was that day, but I was still very much upset with him. Would he confront me? Knowing him, he would be insufferable, and the whole idea of seeing him again had my stomach tying in knots.
I sighed and typed my response quickly, sending it before I could back out.
HOPE: I’m in Big Bear. Are we still okay to meet tonight?
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
BRITTANY: Yes. I’m really glad you came. Thank you for doing this.
More dots appeared.
JAY: See you both soon.
I stared at the screen, a familiar ache hitting my chest. It was the same ache I’d felt for the last three months whenever I thought of him.
I would just have to endure it for Brittany. It was just a meeting at his office. There would be no talk about what happened between us. Strictly talk about the situation with Pike.
This wasn’t about Jay and me.
This was about stopping someone who had hurt Brittany and me. I could bury the hatchet for a while—at the very least for this meeting.
Couldn’t I?
The parking lot had one car in it when I pulled up to the clinic.
It was Jay’s truck.
Upon seeing the sleek black vehicle and the office building, an onslaught of memories and emotions crashed over me.
I sat in the car longer than necessary, trying to control my breathing and the familiar numbness spreading through my fingertips.
You can do this,I told myself.
I checked the time. A few minutes early because I couldn’t be late; it just wasn’t in my DNA to be late. I shut off the engine and stepped into the cold winter air. The sting was more biting up at this altitude, and I burrowed a little deeper into my coat. Gravel crunched beneath my boots as I crossed the lot.
The clinic looked the same as I remembered. The blinds were pulled down, the sign by the door dark now that theday was over. I hesitated in the lobby for a second, nervous to head back toward the exam rooms.
“Hello?” I called out, but there was no answer.
I walked down the hallway past the break room first, my footsteps echoing faintly. At the end of the hall, a door stood open—one of the conference rooms we’d never really used for anything. Cardboard boxes were stacked along the walls, old files and unopened equipment shoved haphazardly into corners, as if the room had become a catch-all for things no one wanted to deal with yet.
And then I saw him.
Jay stood in the center of the little room, sleeves rolled up, one hand braced against the back of a chair like he’d been pacing and finally forced himself to stop. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps.
We froze at the same time.
For a second, the world stopped spinning. It was just the hum of the lights and the quiet ticking of a clock by the sterilization counter. He looked thinner and more tired. His hair was a little longer than I remembered, his waves reaching almost to his shoulders now. And his eyes. They were the same dark navy, only now they held a painful, almost melancholy expression. And that half smirk that always seemed to grace his lips was nowhere in sight.
