Page 9 of Every Promise Broken

Whit Bowman

One Month Later

Running the pad of her thumb along her tongue, the loan officer smiles at me as she flips to the next page, and I can’t help but squirm. I understand why people do it; why they wet their thumb to gain traction, but it’s so gross. There are so many germs present in mouths at all times. I don’t even know this woman, and now her germs are all over my official documents.

Thanks, Linda.

“Now this one goes over the terms of your loan,” she drags on. “Interest rate is here, insurance is here, and down here is your total monthly payment. If you could just sign and date below.”

Bringing the blue ink pen to the paper, I scrawl my name on the line like I’ve done twenty-three other times today. We’ve been here for nearly an hour, and we aren’t done yet. Mysignature doesn’t even look like my name anymore. Hell, I’m going to have a cramp in my hand by the end of this.

Linda, the thumb licker, drones on, page after page, explaining in great detail what each one represents, then tells me to sign and date at the bottom, like maybe I’ll forget what my part in this little meeting is from the last page. I don’t even want to be here right now; my day is hectic enough, but I need to get this shit taken care of so we can close on the loan.

Taking out a second mortgage on my house to get caught up on bills with my business, when I can barely make ends meet with the payment I have now, is less than ideal, but I didn’t know what else to do. My options are slim, and I had to do something. Care for my dad isn’t getting any cheaper, and insurance is a fucking joke. You’d think somebody who had been a hardworking, tax-paying citizen for over seventy years would have better options.

It’s another twenty minutes before we’re finished, and after finger-licking Linda makes me a copy of the documents I signed, I head back to the clinic. We’ve got a busy afternoon on the books, and I’m already running late. Shoving the thick stack of papers in my glove box, I climb out of my truck and lock the door, speed walking through the front doors.

Seraph, the goldendoodle, is doing her very best to annoy Franklin, the black cat, inside his carrier as I step into the lobby. It’s a full house in here, and my chest clenches at the sight. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have taken a lunch break at all. There’s too much to do, and at this rate, I’ll be here until nine o’clock finishing it all.

“Welcome back, Dr. B,” Maddy, my receptionist, calls out to me as I walk into the back area.

“Hello, Maddy.” I offer her a tight-lipped smile, wanting to set my briefcase in my office so I can dive into the next patient.I can hear her following behind me, and I breathe out a sigh. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Grazing Acres Ranch called while you were gone,” she states, and my heart stalls in my chest as I grit my teeth. “They scheduled an appointment to have you go out to the ranch tomorrow morning. One of the bison, they said.”

Moments like this, it would be nice if I had a second vet on staff. Then I could make them do the house calls I don’t want to. Like this particular house call.

Blowing out a breath, I turn and face Maddy, forcing another smile. “What time?”

“Nine.” She smiles back, hers much more enthusiastic. “You don’t have a patient in the office until noon.”

“Thank you.”

It’s been an entire month since I lost my common sense for the night—thirty-five days, to be exact—and I’ve managed to maintain a healthy distance from Conrad ever since. I had to make one house call there a few weeks ago to check on the new batch of calves, but luckily, he was gone when I got there. His new ranch hand, Wade, was there instead. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Conrad was avoiding me just as much as I’m avoiding him.

I huff to myself.Who the hell am I kidding?Of course, he’s avoiding me. On the scale ofin touch with our feelings and communication, Conrad and I are on opposite ends of that spectrum. The fact would annoy me if I wasn’t also burying my head in the sand.

Busying myself with work, the rest of the afternoon breezes by. Much to my surprise, I’m actually able to fly through all the necessary paperwork and leave the office at a decent hour. I’m in my truck, driving home, when my phone rings. Blindly reaching for it in my passenger seat, I press accept, and it connects to the Bluetooth.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe.” Reggie’s voice filters through my speaker, and my shoulders immediately tense. “Where you at?”

“I’m driving home,” I reply, severely wishing I had checked caller ID before answering.

“Are you close?”

“Uh, yeah. About two minutes. Why?”

“I’m waiting outside your house.” My hands grip the steering wheel as my pulse races. “We had dinner plans, remember? I brought stuff to cook.”

Fucking hell. Goddamnit.I fucking forgot.How could I forget?

“Oh.” I chuckle dryly. “Of course, I remember. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Okay, bye!” My index finger jams into the screen, ending the call in a hurry as I blow out a breath.God, get it together, Whit.

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