Page 15 of Healing You
“I get your point. But Gatsby doesn't have worms or rabies. It's nothing I can catch.” Within those few sentences, Steve watched as Yvonne's face drooped with sudden exhaustion. “As long as he feels okay, I'll be at dinner. But if I'm not going to make it, I promise to call.”
“Fantastic. I'll text you the details. Don't be late.”
“Okay.”
“And honey? Wear something nice, okay?”
She hung up as a weary breath pushed past her glossy lips. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled.
“Hey Carrie, can you give us a moment?” Steve asked.
Like any good friend, she looked to Yvonne first. It wasn't until her friend gave a nod of approval that she excused herself for the bathroom.
Steve waited until Carrie was far enough away to be out of ear shot. “Where's your ring?” he asked, jerking his chin toward her hand.
She curved her hands around each other, squeezing them together. “What ring?” she asked innocently.
He narrowed his eyes. The sun dappled behind her, creating a soft, warm light that framed her body. Dragging a finger over the slight tan line at the base of her knuckle, he gave it a tap. “Eve, come on.”
With a click of her tongue, she slapped those same hands to her thighs. “Steve, what do you want from me?”
“I want to know where your ring is.”
Silence hummed between them as an urgency took hold of Steve's body. God, what was it about this woman? He thought thirteen years apart would be the bucket of ice water on his attraction for her, but if anything, the time apart only served as a burner, heating him up to a damn near boiling point.
“You're not engaged to him anymore, are you?”
She dropped her chin to her chest and the most adorable shade of pink graced her cheeks. “He— Jonah—and I broke up a few months ago. He was…” She shook her head again, voice cracking. “We just... we weren't meant to be. He was a bit... smothering.”
For the first time all morning, Yvonne sat taller in her chair and rolled her shoulders back. Confidence. There it was. His Yvonne. The fearless girl from high school who morphed from pompoms and pep rallies to motorcycles and joy rides with him.
“So now the ring is off.”
She held his gaze, pointedly. “It is.”
“And the gloves, too, apparently.”
“You know it, Tripp.” She smiled, just one side of her mouth tipping up ever so slightly.
If Yvonne was back on the market, and he was seeing her so frequently with Gatsby's treatments, then he was in some serious trouble. She signaled to their waitress for the check, and he caught of glimpse of her scar—the one that mirrored his, only it stretched the length of her arm from wrist to elbow. The one on his face nearly cost him his eye. The scars she had nearly cost her her life.
Was he crazy to think that he was getting signals from her? Could it be that she might finally be receptive to him now? His forgiveness, his love? Shit. For all of a second, he thought he might be ready for this—for a reconnection with her. But he wasn't. Every glimpse of her body was the reminder to how she nearly wasn't walking on this Earth. Of how stupid he'd been. How careless. It had been perfectly clear that no one in their family, especially Yvonne, would be able to forgive him for that. He pushed the chair back, the legs scraping against the sidewalk.
No, he and Yvonne Sarzacki couldn't happen. They couldn't happen thirteen years ago, and they sure as shit couldn't happen now.
Steve gulped, waving a goodbye to a confused-looking Yvonne. “I'll see you around.” He walked down the sidewalk toward his clinic, pausing briefly to watch as some tourists sat cuddling on a swinging bench in the park. They were older—maybe his ma's age, and they sat swinging, sharing a bear claw and a coffee from Lex's bakery. Emotion tugged at his heart. Could he someday have that? Even with his busted face, women still seemed to be attracted to him. So what the hell was getting in his way from moving on? Just because he and Yvonne were bad for each other didn't mean he didn't deserve a meaningful companionship. Cam had gotten a second chance at love, why the hell couldn't he?
“Rough night?”
Steve turned to find Sophy sitting on the bench in front of his clinic. He ran a hand down his face and walked over to where she sat. She looked different, he noted. She was wearing black dress pants and a matching blazer with a pink button down shirt beneath it. Her curly hair was tied in a low ponytail at the back of her neck. He looked down at his wrinkled suit and ran a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I must look like hell, I guess.”
Her mouth twitched as he took a seat next to her. “I'd say you still look pretty good.” She wrapped her red hued lips around her straw and took a sip of her iced coffee. “You never called,” she said. “So, at the risk of looking desperate, I thought I'd try one more time. I'll be in town for another few days—”
“Go to dinner with me,” Steve interrupted. “Tonight.”
Sophy blinked. “I have a thing tonight. A work thing...”
Steve nodded, what little bit of hope he had sinking. “Another night?”
