Page 33 of Thornhill Road

Tess

Three Days Later

I was more tiredthan usual. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d struggled through a double this much. It wasn’t the work itself. For the most part, my patients were stable. I simply hadn’t been sleeping well.

Not since Saturday night.

I tried not to think about Mustang.

We’d had one night together—that couldn’t have been enough to mess with my sleep.

I hoped, after working twenty hours straight, I could get in a decent few hours.

When I turned onto Ramshorn Avenue, I groaned when I saw Lance’s car and not Mitchell’s parked in front of Sharon’s house. I knew I needed to have a better attitude about him, but the thought of pretending I liked him for the duration of my visit wore me out just thinking about it.

I was grateful he didn’t meet me at my car door.

I downed the rest of the coffee I’d had time to pick up on the way, then gathered my things to head inside.

Lance was quick to answer the door.

“Hey, Tess,” he said in greeting.

“Hi, Lance. How you doin’? How’s your mom?”

Respecting the routine, Lance filled me in on how Sharon had been fairing since my last visit. When I was up to speed, I went to spend some time with my patient. I had about forty-five minutes alone with her before I felt Lance hovering at the door. Unfortunately, Sharon was pretty tired that day. When she drifted to sleep, it felt silly to stay, which meant clocking in a few more minutes with Lance before I left.

I packed my supplies into my bag, then looped the straps over my shoulder as I made my way toward him. “Did you want to talk?”

“Yeah. That’d be great.” He led the way into the kitchen and asked, “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you.” I leaned against the kitchen island. “How you holdin’ up? Really?”

With some family members and loved ones, it was difficult to maintain a healthy emotional distance. With Lance, it was no struggle at all. He spoke and I listened, responding at the appropriate times. I tried to be a comfort, knowing he deserved compassion as much as the next person.

When our conversation drew to a close, he hugged me. It didn’t feel like a friendly hug, his large hands splayed across mysides. I was immediately uncomfortable. I patted his back, in an effort to signal he could let go, but he held on a moment longer.

“Lance, I should be going,” I told him, gently pushing my way out of his arms. “I don’t want to be late for my next patient.”

“Sure. I understand.”

“You hang in there,” I said with a wave.

Once on the other side of Sharon’s front door, I freed a heavy sigh and wiped off my fake smile.

I had one more patient, and then I could go home.

Much as I wanted a quick ten-minute nap, I was not hanging out in Sharon’s driveway with Lance inside. I’d squeeze it in after I reached Thornhill Road.

Except, twenty minutes later, when I turned down Ed’s street, I got a jolt of energy that completely eradicated any possibility of a nap.

This was because, parked on the far side of Ed’s driveway, was a blue Harley.

And leaned up against it, in his usual attire, but with the addition of aviator sunglasses, was Mustang.

I wondered why he was there.

Was it for me? Or Ed?

---