Page 16 of I'm Not Yours
My dad sporadically remembered my other birthdays. One time he gave me a box of chocolates. He’d already eaten half of them.
If my dad had any loud and obnoxious friends over, I used to go to the orchard and carve the skins off apples to see how long a train I could make. I would hide in the apple trees if he was in a bad mood—cursing, lashing out at me—or if I needed to cry for my mother. I would carve faces into the apples—or boats, or dogs and cats. Apples entertained me.
I should have hated apples because of what they reminded me of, but I didn’t. They saved me. I ate them, I juggled them, and used them for throwing away my rage.
I reached up a hand and brushed the leaves of an apple tree on my dad’s property. The apples were beautiful—red, golden, light green.
I would miss them when I left.
My letter would have arrived.
She was a viper. She took advantage of her position. Seduction should not be a part of promotions.
The you-know-what would be hitting the fan. It almost made me laugh.
“No, I will not go out to dinner with you tonight.”
Jace stood on my porch wearing a white shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. He could not have looked hotter if he set himself on fire.
“Why not, Allie?” He smiled. If it were possible, I would have melted into goo.
“Because I don’t want to and I want to and I won’t go.” I slammed my teeth together. “That didn’t make sense.”
“Not much. Come out to dinner with me tonight and we’ll talk about it.”
“I’m your patient. Aren’t you supposed to keep a professional distance?”
“You’re my ex-girlfriend, and that overrides the patient-doctor relationship. Besides, our relationship, professionally speaking, is over because I’ve already sewn you up, plucked splinters out of your skin, and wrapped your ankle.”
His ex-girlfriend. That I was. Even the wordgirlfriendgave my heart a wallop.
It was about eleven in the morning. I had hobbled around to feed and take care of the horses. Bob chased his enemies, the squirrels, barking, and Margaret followed him as usual, tongue hanging out. Spot the Cat came up and meowed at me and I meowed back like a fool. Spunky Joy’s head hung over Leroy’s neck and they were both happy to see their servant, me.
I had not gotten hit by a horse’s hoof. I had not fallen through a ladder. The day was young, but so far, so good. I had not showered yet, so had not gotten to the makeup point, andwas wearing old jeans and a flannel shirt, my usual chic and glamorous attire, so different from who and what I used to be. Then Jace arrived at my door.
“Why can’t you show up in my life when I’m wearing something other than raggedy clothes and have brushed my hair?”
He smiled, rocking back on his heels. He was huge and huggable, darn him. “You look good to me.”
“I don’t look good to me. I think I smell like a horse. I need to check the lovely colors of various bruises on my body. Bruising adds a special shade of beauty.”
“I’ll take a look at your bruising.”
“You will not.”
I remembered Jace’s hands on both of my legs at the hospital. He was completely professional, but I thought I was going to burst into a ball of desire. His hands could still do that to me, after all these years. Still.
He smiled. “Ma’am, I think I should check out your legs.”
“Very funny, Jace.”
“Drop your pants.”
I laughed, despite my rebellious hair, despite my bruises and my stitches. “Don’t make me laugh. For some reason it makes my legs hurt.”
“If not dinner, how about breakfast?”
“No.” I grinned.
