Page 77 of Chasing Storm
“You’re close?”
He nods. “Yeah, she is my best friend outside of these two. Maybe more like an annoying, little sister.”
I smile. “That sounds great,” I say. I reluctantly pull on my coat and slip into my trainers, shoving my heels into my bag, which I scoop off the floor of the bedroom, pausing to kiss the heads of two of my three guys. I still can't get used to that. .
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, Josh and I slip quietly out and head into the peaceful morning. The streets are quiet, the only sound being the occasional burst of birdsong, a bus here and there, with a few cars. Nothing like the usual bustling vibrancy of the neighbourhood. Sipping my coffee, which Josh alternates holding with the croissant, we take the same route I always do.
Josh and I quickly fall into an easy conversation, talking about his bookstore and more about Elle. I’m not jealous, just curious.
Before I know it, we have arrived at work. Walking and talking with him has made the commute fly by. I turn to him and smile. “Thanks for walking with me,” I say, feeling a wave of appreciation wash over me.
He returns my smile and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Anytime. Either JP or Thatcher will be here when you finish.”
“No, that’s not necessary.”
He takes my hand and squeezes it. “It is. We promised to protect you, and we will.”
I’m incredibly lucky to have them in my life, despite me thinking the opposite not that long ago. I know they will always be there for me, no matter how early or late it is. I hug him before heading up the steps to the practice, still feeling the warmth of Josh's embrace. Turning, I wave goodbye and then head inside to have this talk with my dad. My stomach clenches unexpectedly.
I take a deep breath, taking a moment to swap my shoes. Bracing myself for the conversation to come, I move further inside the building. I see my father sitting in the waiting area, looking through a patient folder.
He looks up and smiles. “Stormy. What’s up?”
He is straight down to the point, which tells me two things. His head is on work, and he needs to go. This makes it more difficult—more pressure to get it out there.
I force a smile and sit down next to him. “I have something to ask you. I know this is going to be awkward, but I said I would.”
His expression grows concerned. “Do I need to be worried?”
I shake my head. “Not about me. But an old lady who needs your help.”
His concern turns to curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“There is this guy, Franco, he works at the coffee shop. His grandmother isn’t well with her heart, but she can’t get insurance. They have the money to pay for a consult and more, but the practice won’t see them without the insurance. Could you bend the rules for him, them?”
There, I’ve said it. I’ve done my bit. It’s now up to my dad.
He frowns. “Storm, you know this is extremely unethical.”
“I know!” I exclaim, dropping my head into my hands. “But I said I’d ask, and I have.”
He sighs and looks away. “Pass my number on to your friend. I’ll talk to him and then decide. Okay? I’m not promising anything.”
I peek out from between my fingers. “Really?”
“This once.”
I seem to be hearing that a lot from my parents lately. I’m abusing their positions, and I hate myself for it.
“I’m sorry.”
He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Don’t be sorry, Storm. You have such a big heart, so compassionate. I would expect nothing less from you to help a friend in need.” He leans forward to kiss my forehead and then stands up. “I have to go. Tell him to leave a message if I don’t pick up later. I’ll ring him back.”
I nod, knowing he will.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
He grins and bends down to grab his briefcase and the folder, which he stuffs inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m in all day unless there’s an emergency.”
