Chapter 1 #2
She checked her phone when she got out to her car and was dismayed to realize that she had two voice messages and five texts from Dean Powell, the guy she’d been dating for the past couple of months. Against her better judgment, Jules agreed to let her mom fix her up with the son of some of her close friends from the country club.
The first few dates went well. A realtor, Dean, was handsome, well-spoken, and mildly funny. However, as time went on, Dean was becoming way too clingy. He called and texted her way too often. Someone should teach him the art of playing a little hard to get. Yesterday, he’d left her two voice messages. She hadn’t responded. He was obviously getting desperate. She glanced at the texts. He was asking her to go to dinner with him this evening. She listened to the voice messages. In the second message, Dean said with a chuckle, “Sorry to be such a pest. I was just really hoping that we could get together tonight.” After a short pause, he continued. “I miss you.”
The intensity of his tone made her feel like she was wearing a turtleneck that had suddenly grown too tight around her neck.
She pushed out a long, heavy breath. “Okay, Dean. Time to have the hard discussion I’ve been putting off.” While she liked Dean, there were no fireworks. It was better to end it now rather than to prolong the inevitable.
After she iced her foot and fixed herself some dinner, she’d call him and break the news.
Or maybe not. When she got home, she found him sitting on her front porch, holding a bundle of red roses wrapped in a plastic sleeve. She winced inwardly as she used her remote to open the garage door. Dean tossed her a cavalier smile and wave. She drove in and turned off the engine. He really was a handsome man with his thick head of mid-tone brown hair and patrician features. She wished she felt the same way about him as he did her … truly. It just goes to show that the heart wants what the heart wants. She wasn’t sure what type of guy would be right for her, but she knew it wasn’t Dean.
When she got out of the car, Dean met her in the garage.
“Hiya, beautiful,” he began with a broad smile that showcased his pearly white teeth. He leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed, his brown eyes taking on a smolder that darkened them to walnut.
“It has been busy.”
“I figured since you haven’t returned any of my calls or texts.”
She bristled at the faint hint of accusation in his tone. Before she could take too much offense, however, he flashed her a mea culpa smile.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a pest. It’s just that I got us reservations at The Magnolia Terrace this evening and wanted to let you know ahead of time.” He held up the roses, excitement shimmering in his eyes. “Tonight’s a special occasion.”
“Oh?”
“Our eight-week anniversary.”
She suddenly felt like she had ants swarming her entire body. “I didn’t realize we were keeping count.”
He gave her a reproving look. “Of course we are.” He eyed her with such adoration that it turned her stomach. “Eight weeks down, and the rest of our lives to go.”
Ew, this was getting sticky. And her foot was killing her! She felt like some sadistic person was ramming a needle through her pinky toe over and over again. She moistened her lips. “Um, let’s go inside so we can talk.”
“Of course.” A large grin split his face as he motioned. “Lead the way.”
For someone who was such a successful realtor, Dean certainly wasn’t great at picking up on nonverbal clues. He followed her inside.
Concern sounded in his voice. “You’re limping. What happened?”
“I whacked my toe on the chest in my bedroom this morning,” she lamented.
He made a face. “Ouch.”
She deposited her purse on the kitchen island.
He looked around. “Do you have something I can put these flowers in?”
She pointed to the cupboard to the right of the refrigerator. “Up there.”
As he went to retrieve the vase, she took off her shoe, welcoming the immediate release from the pain of having her foot stuffed in a confined space all day long. She slid off her sock and grimaced at the purple bruise that spanned the entire width of her foot just below her toes. No wonder she was in so much pain. The impact of the hit had done more than just damage her pinky toe. She wiggled her toes, noting that her pinky toe was barely moving. It was red and swollen. Ugh!
After Dean had put the flowers into a vase of water, he turned to her, eyes dancing with excitement. “So? Are you up for dinner at The Magnolia Terrace?”
She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”
His crestfallen look pricked her with guilt.
“My foot is killing me,” she explained.
He looked down. “It does look bad.” It only took a second for him to switch gears as his voice lilted. “Okay, change of plans. We’ll stay here tonight. We can order in, and I’ll pamper you.” He gave her an intimate smile. “Maybe give you a neck and shoulder massage to help you relax.”
Her insides cringed. This wasn’t going to be easy. She hobbled over and sat down on a bar stool. While it was tempting to just let things stay at status quo, it wasn’t fair to lead Dean on. He was becoming way too invested in her. The kind thing to do would be to put a stop to this right here and right now.
“What are you in the mood to eat?” He pulled out his phone.
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Dean, we need to talk.”
He held up his phone. “Okay, but let me order first, and we’ll talk while we wait for the food. I’m starving.”
She swallowed the tightness in her throat. “We should probably talk before we order the food.”
Wariness trickled over his features. “Okay,” he said carefully, placing his phone back into his pocket. “What’s up?”
There was really no easy way to do this. Better to just dive in. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you over the past couple of months.”
The edges of his eyes tightened. “But?”
She plowed forward. “But this isn’t working.”
His face fell. “What do you mean?”
This was so dang awkward. She just wanted it to be over with. “You’re a terrific guy.”
He grunted. “Seriously? You’re giving me the terrific guy speech? Is this your way of trying to let me down easily?”
“I’m just not ready for a serious relationship.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You mean with me.”
“Yes,” she acknowledged. “Not with you or with anyone right now. I need to take some time for myself, and I need to focus on my career.”
Disgust twisted his face. “I should’ve known this would happen.”
She rocked back, appalled by the resentment burning in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
“When my mom first told me that your mother wanted to set us up, my mom warned me that you could be fickle.”
Heat rushed to her face. “Fickle?”
“Yeah,” he sneered. “Obviously, my mom was right.”
Wow, okay. So that’s how he wanted to play this. He’d gone from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde in a matter of seconds. She’d never seen this side of Dean before. It confirmed her decision to break up with him. She held up a hand. “Look, I’ve enjoyed our dates, but this is as far as it goes.” The anger that streaked over his face sent a sliver of fear down her spine. She wanted this man out of her house and out of her life.
Dean balled his hand and muttered a few unsavory words under his breath. “You’ll regret this,” he promised.
Her blood ran cold. “What do you mean?” Was he threatening her? Surely not.
He barked out a spiteful laugh. “You’re lucky that I even gave you the time of day.” He leaned into her personal space. “I know you, Jules Sterling—how you string guys along for a couple of months and then give them the boot.”
“That’s not true.” She looked him in the eye. “I just haven’t found anyone I want to be with for the long haul. And that includes you.”
He pointed his finger. “You won’t get away with this. I won’t let you make a fool out of me.”
She clenched her jaw. “Get out of my house. I never want to see you again.”
He stomped over to the roses, grabbed them out of the water, and then slammed the empty vase onto the tile floor, where it shattered into pieces.
He held up the roses, his expression crazed. “I’ll give these to someone more deserving.”
“Get out,” she repeated.
Throwing her a withering look, he stomped out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, she heard the front door slam.
“Good riddance,” she muttered and then leaned forward, massaging her temples. What a day! She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Her cell phone rang. She reached for her purse and fished it out. It was her older sister, Zoe.
“Hey, sis,” Jules began and then spewed. “Remind me never to let Mom fix me up with anyone again,” she growled. “You won’t believe what just happened …”
When Jules got to work the next morning, she could tell from the thick cloud of tension in the air that something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on?” she asked Mindy.
“You know the patient who got the laparoscopic cholecystectomy yesterday morning?”
Jules nodded. “Of course. Lisa Randall.”
Mindy clutched the paper cup containing her coffee with both hands. “She died last night from a clot to the brain.”
The air whooshed out of Jules’s lungs. “H—how?” she sputtered. “She wasn’t high risk.”
Mindy lowered her voice. “An ambulance rushed her to Harris last night, but it was already too late. She coded in the ER.”
Jules’s mind spun. “A stroke?”
“Cerebral embolism. Most likely from a DVT formed after surgery.”
“There was nothing in her chart to give me cause for concern.” The room expanded and then contracted, making Jules feel like she couldn’t breathe. She rubbed a hand over her forehead as her words came out hoarse. “I promised her that she would be okay. Her husband wanted to reschedule since Dr. Winslow was out sick, but I assured them that the surgery was routine.”
“All you could do was go off the details in her chart.”
Jules’s stomach twisted, making her want to throw up. “This is a nightmare.” An image of Lisa’s nervous eyes flashed before her face, and she saw the woman’s hands twisting the fabric of the hospital gown. Lisa had been so kind.
“It is,” Mindy agreed. “Lisa’s husband has been calling and giving out threats.” She lowered her voice. “LouAnna and Bree contacted the police and filed a report. They are talking about hiring security guards until this all blows over.”
Bree Cline was the office manager of the surgical center and LouAnna’s counterpart.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“LouAnna and Bree are calling a closed-door meeting for all of us who were involved in the surgery yesterday.”
Jules nodded numbly. She’d been through this process before, having lost two other patients. However, those patients had been high risk, so the outcome was not a total shock. As the charge nurse, LouAnna would take verbal statements at the meeting, asking everyone to recount details that they remembered. Then an incident report would be filed. A hot blanket of guilt wrapped Jules. If she’d not injured her toe … if Alyssa hadn’t stopped by unexpectedly … if she’d not been late for work … if she’d not been so harried … then she might’ve noticed a warning flag that could’ve saved Lisa’s life. Oh, how she wished she could turn back time and do things differently.
Mindy pressed her lips together in tight lines. Her eyes held a haunted look that iced Jules’s veins.
“What else are you not telling me?”
Mindy’s face caved as tears rose to her eyes. “Alyssa Roberts was killed in a car accident yesterday. I just found out this morning when I got here.”
Jules’s knees gave way as she staggered. “W—what?” She shook her head back and forth. “No, that’s impossible. I talked to her yesterday morning before I came to work. She was going to spend some time with her parents.”
“It happened on her way there. Alyssa was traveling on a rural road. She went off an embankment and was killed.”
The world began to spin as darkness crowded the edges of Jules’s eyes. Alyssa was dead. And so was her unborn child. It was too much for her brain to process.
Mindy caught hold of her arm. “Are you okay?” she asked, but her voice came from far away.
“No,” was the last thing Jules remembered saying before her knees buckled.