Page 63 of Something Like That

“What I should have said is,” oblivious to the riot of emotion playing out inside her, he tilted his head and kept his gaze locked to hers, “would you mind if Ty came to dinner with us tonight? If it’s a problem, then that’s fine. I can make plans to see him tomorrow morning before his flight leaves.”

Oh, geez, jump to conclusions much? A flush of heat rose in her chest and up into her face. She could easily blame being touchy on her riotous emotions—which was partly true—but she knew that wasn’t the total truth. Her issues with being brushed aside, with never quite being good enough, had reared their ugly head, and she’d made an idiot of herself.

He placed his hands on her upper arms, gave a gentle rub. “Is everything okay?”

She stared up into his concerned face, his blue eyes full of some emotion she refused to name because it was too tender, too sweet, too much. Everything, right now, was too much.

To her horror, her eyes filled with tears. She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine, that everything was fine, but all that came out was a sob. And dammit, she didn’t want to cry.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. But she didn’t want it, didn’t want to be so vulnerable, didn’t want to show such weakness.

She lifted her hands to push him away, but they seemed to have a mind of their own. They wrapped around his waist, held on tight.

He slid his hand up and down her back. She knew it was an instinctual movement, a soothing technique just about everyone used. But that didn’t stop the emotion from spilling over the edge of the dam she used to hold everything back.

She sobbed, burying her face against his chest. Why did this have to happen to her? Hadn’t she been through enough already in her life? She’d been happy, felt safe for the first time in forever, and now it was being yanked out from under her, all because her old lawyer didn’t negotiate a stupid clause into their contract.

And then, to make matters worse, he’d subsequently retired and moved to Phoenix, so she couldn’t even get the satisfaction of stomping into his office and yelling at him.

The sobbing only lasted a few minutes, and then she was just breathing hard, tossing out the occasional hiccup. She should probably let go of the death grip she had on his waist, but her arms refused to move. She’d call them traitors, but she couldn’t deny how much she liked the feel of him in her arms.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” His deep voice held a thread of concern, the kind that made the emotion in her swirl close to the surface again.

She sighed, heat prickling in her cheeks. Giving him one last squeeze, she pulled away, quickly wiping the wetness off her cheeks with the back of her hands. The wet spot she’d left on the front of his shirt stared back at her. How humiliating.

Her throat ached and her head throbbed. She should probably answer him, or at least look at him, but she couldn’t seem to get her head to tilt. Why was her body being so ridiculous today?

He slipped his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up so she had no choice. “Alex, talk to me. Please.” The raggedness in his voice almost killed her.

“I’m sorry.” She wiped at the wet spot on his shirt. “I didn’t mean to make a mess of your shirt.”

He grabbed her hands. “I don’t care about my shirt, I care about you.”

The ache in her chest turned sharp, making it feel like her ribs were digging into the soft tissue. Why did he have to say that? It just made this so much harder. She blew out a shaky breath. “It’s about the clinic.”

He led her over to one of the benches that lined the path in front of the arena, and pressed her to sit. The metal seat was warmish due to the sunshine. He sat next to her, angling his body so they faced each other, and took her hand. “What happened?”

“We received a letter yesterday, giving us thirty days to vacate the premises.” She swallowed back the bile crawling up her throat. One embarrassing show today was enough. There was no way she was throwing up as an encore.

His eyebrows did that scrunchy thing again. “How is that possible? I’m assuming you have a lease.”

She nodded. “We do, but I guess it wasn’t as air tight as we were led to believe. There was no clause protecting us against a foreclosure on the building. So, because the bank sold it at as a foreclosure, the new owners don’t have to abide by any previous agreements.” She felt her shoulders slump, the defeat and disappointment balancing on them like deadweight.

His expression went from confusion to anger. “Well, that’s seriously shitty. I’m so sorry.”

She waited for him to give the same old platitudes everyone did. It was okay because everything would work out. This was obviously what was meant to happen. The usual bull-crap.

But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at her, letting the words sit in the space between them.

And in that moment, she realized Nick Sadler was amazing.

Or rather, even more amazing than she’d already thought. Which was impressive, because she’d already thought he was pretty damn spectacular.

He didn’t try to make it better, or cheer her up. Tell her things would get better. He acknowledged the situation was crappy, end of story.

It took all her willpower to not throw her arms around him and show him just how much she appreciated it. Appreciated him.

Instead, she nodded. “Thanks.” She tried for a smile, and although it felt a little wobbly, it was genuine.