Page 6 of Girl Going Nowhere

I smile at the older woman. “Sorry about that. I’m a little distracted today.”

“Distracted?” She gives me a knowing smile after her eyes go toward the screen. “He’s definitely a looker, isn’t he? My husband and I went to a game a few years ago with our grandson. I swear Jonathon Dover is even better-looking in person. And he’s great with kids. Gave our little Mark a signed ball at the end and took a picture with the three of us. It’s no wonder everybody loves him.”

I do everything I can not to grind my teeth at the praise he’s getting for doing the bare minimum with his fans. “I heard he’s great when it comes to kids.”Especially making them.Clearing my throat to sound relatively normal, I ask, “Do you need to make an appointment?”

She lets the subject change easily, passing me the printed paperwork with an after-visit summary and instructions on it. “Trevor says to schedule for six months. I don’t know how a pretty thing like you can stand to work here when you’ve got a physician’s assistant that looks like that.”

It takes everything in me not to make a face at her drooling over that douchebag. “I don’t know how I do it either,” I reply in my sugary sweet customer service voice.

Once she’s set, she waves me off after glancing at the TV one more time and then shooting me a wink as if I’m in on her little secret.

The next time I catch myself looking at the television, it’s with a twitch in my eye when the compliments keep coming for the man who paid me off.

“Hey, Blake,” Trevor greets, tapping on the counter to my workstation. “Can you help out this lovely woman for me? Dr. Emerson wants to see her in two weeks for another blood draw.”

My eyes go from the man who fractured my ego to the pretty blonde beside him who’s blushing at his charm.

Enjoy it while it lasts,I want to tell her.

Then I think about what Finn said, and one more glance in Trevor’s direction has me wondering why I’m so upset he doesn’t want me.

Everybody wants to be wanted,that internal voice answers me.

A twinge of pain enters my heart that I force myself to brush off. “No problem.” I redirect my attention strictly to the girl eating up Trevor’s attention. “Is there a time that works best for you?”

*

At 4:35 inthe afternoon, I’m walking outside the small brick clinic when I see whose car is parked at the curb.

“What are you doing here?” I ask the boy I’m still irritated with.

Finn rubs the back of his neck. “You’ve been avoiding me, so I wanted to talk and clear things up. Figured we could grab an early dinner.”

I readjust my bag strap over my shoulder. “I have to pick up Maia from—”

“The guys are watching her,” he promises.

My brows shoot up. “You asked them to get Maia from daycare?” They’re all on her approved pickup list after insisting they wanted to help out. It’s not often they pick her up, but they’re never put out to do it when I ask.

“Brodie is picking her up since it’s on his way home, and Dante is working from the apartment today. They both said they’d be happy to watch her while I ‘make things right’ with you. They’ve called me out in it being awkward at home.”

It’s been three days since our spat in the kitchen. Whenever we pass each other, I make a point to stay silent. No eye contact. No conversation. Nothing. Is it childish? Sure. But he hurt my feelings and made me feel like some sort of cheap slut who got pregnant from one of my many casual flings. I know he adores Maia, and usually me, but his words still sliced into my skin.

“You hurt my feelings,” I tell him quietly.

His eyes are sad. “I know. Let me make it up to you. Explain. Everything came out all wrong.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Panera?”

Damn him.He knows their bread is my weakness. And because money is tight, I haven’t eaten anything besides a seventy-five-cent bag of stale pretzels from the vending machine. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

I’m not going to say no to my favorite kind of food, especially when it’s free. A free meal or two is always welcome in my world. Anything more feels like charity.

Twenty-five minutes later, we’re seated across from each other in the same booth we always occupy when we come here. A tray of food rests between us, making my mouth water.

I break apart the bread and dip a piece of it into my cream of broccoli soup, which was today’s soup of the day and half-off. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

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