Page 60 of Healing You
“Gatsby should be here soon, yes.” Or so he hoped. She hadn't called to cancel his appointment and Steve knew that she would never put her own emotional comfort over her dog's health. But that didn't mean she wouldn't have Carrie or Kyra or another friend bring him in for her.
Amanda narrowed her eyes. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said, but couldn't meet her eyes when he answered.
“Bullshit.”
Steve opened his mouth but before he could say anything, the door swung open and Gatsby came barreling in, his nose sniffing around Steve's pockets for a treat. Yvonne carefully stepped in behind him, her hand jerking to her mouth as she nibbled her nails, the polish from Cam's engagement party now officially half chipped off.
From behind her oversized sunglasses, her eyebrows jumped and she looked as surprised to see him standing there as he did her. Which was ridiculous—it was his practice. A hollowness clutched his lungs, making breathing a hell of a lot harder than it should have been as tension shimmered between them.
He tried to read her... she didn't seem mad. Then again, she'd had a couple of days to cool off since Sunday. His stomach whirled with a mixture of stress, misery, and emptiness.
She recovered faster than he did and fumbled inside her purse, holding out Gatsby's leash for Steve to take—which he did. His fingers brushed hers briefly and... was that—did her hand linger at his touch, too? “I can't stick around today,” she said, pushing her sunglasses higher on her nose. There was something tight and funny in her voice, and Steve looked to Gatsby because he was afraid that looking at Yvonne might break him. “Carrie will come pick him up in a couple of hours. She's the other emergency contact listed on my form. You can call her when he's ready. Otherwise, she'll be here at eleven-thirty.”
Amanda nodded, her gaze shifting warily between them, but she seemed to know better than to say anything.
“Can we...” Yvonne gestured to the corner, indicating a moment of privacy and slid her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose. Those wide, hazel eyes were framed with thick spiky eyelashes and just the tiniest bit of makeup. Something Steve had always loved about Yvonne—the fact that she never wore too much. Most of the time, her face was bare. But when she did choose to dress up a bit more, it was breathtaking in a whole different way. Was the makeup for him? Or was she covering up red eyes and tears?
“I'm trying to find a new place for the race,” she said wearily, breaking his thoughts.
“You don't have to do that. The race is only a week away—”
“Yes, I do. I have to at least try. But the mayor already had the city measure out the race course, which ends here. I could maybe get a permit and have the party in the park out front. It's a lot of people to try to fit into your backyard area anyway—”
“Don't change the location on my account. I can stay home during the event. Amanda can let you in and help set up instead of me.”
She shook her head. “With twenty-five animals out in the heat, we'll need a veterinarian on-site. As you said... we have animals to save. It's inevitable that we'll be working together.”
“So switching locations...?”
“It's more about the space issue. We've had way more people sign up than we counted on. The park will work better.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out his house key he had given her that weekend. The spare key he'd forgotten all about. “Here,” she said, her voice a little rough. “Eggs and rice were never meant to go together, anyway.” Her lips lifted in a weak smile. The sort of smile you do more to convince yourself than the rest of the world, and it squeezed Steve's heart. He already missed her real smile, the one that wrinkled her eyes and caused her lips to curl back over her teeth.
He should have been relieved. Happy that she had come to terms with his decision being the right one. For both of them. But he was the farthest thing from happy.
She turned to walk away, but stopped herself. “But... just so you know. Whatever those scars are in here,” she touched her hand to his chest, “Or here...” Her fingers trailed up the length of his scar to his temple. The muscles in his jaw jumped, as did his pulse. “Maybe I could have helped. Maybe if you had talked to me about it, we could have worked through it together. I'm not made of porcelain. If going through your windshield didn't break me, then hearing about whatever's in your head certainly wouldn't either.” She pulled her sunglasses down from her the top of her head, her blond hair spilling down the sides of her face with it. “It's a standing offer. As your friend. Which I deserve a freaking Nobel Peace Prize for.”
A headache pulsed between his eyes and Steve dropped his head between his shoulder blades, letting out a low chuckle. She did deserve a prize for how amazing she was handling all of this. He was hard to be friends with. Even harder to love, he was certain.
Friend? Friend. The word rolled around in his mind, whirring, spinning like a cat with a ball of yarn. How could she possibly still want to be friends after all they had been through?
He watched, stunned as she left, bending to give Gatsby a kiss on the head before quietly shutting the door behind her. Gatsby sat patiently, tail wagging, ears perked, his brown eyes shifting from Steve's face to his pocket.
Steve chuckled. “Okay. Yes, you're a good boy.” He reached into his pocket as he guided the dog into exam room one. His fingers connected to the Milk bone and he tossed a treat to Gatsby. “What do you say we go kill some cancer cells.”
2 9
quick email to their mayor, a woman she didn't know especially well. But she'd seen her around the Y vonne sat in Elsa's diner, typing furiously on her laptop. Permits were a pain in her ass, but she knew they were for the greater good. Luckily, she had an ace up her sleeve she'd never attempted to use before. But she would if she had to. She hit the send button, then fired off a Western promenade walking her schnauzer, a scruffy, cute little thing. Yvonne crossed her fingers and hoped that appealing to the animal lover in Mayor O'Donnell would be enough to get her the permit, even though they required ten days for application review.
She fell back in her seat, taking a sip of her coffee and closing her eyes. Here goes nothing, she thought, grabbing her cell phone. The phone rang once. Twice. Like clockwork, he answered on the third ring with a curt, “Hello.”
She could barely find her voice, but managed a quiet, “Dad?”
“Yvonne,” he said, his voice softening. It was subtle, but it was there. Anyone who knew her dad well could hear the difference.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all.” But even as he said that, she could hear papers shuffling in the background and the distraction in his voice.
