13. Xander
Chapter 13
Xander
I checked my phone again and then shoved it back in my pocket with a frustrated sigh.
I thought I'd have heard from Blake by now. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I'd left the house with my ridiculous proposal hanging in the air between us.
What if she said no?
The thought made my stomach knot in a way that confused me.
Why did it matter so much to me?
It was just a solution to a problem.
A way to help her keep Amelia.
Nothing more. A business transaction, basically.
One that brought her into my home, into my life, right where.
.. I wanted her to be.
And that was the most confusing thought of all.
I paced the length of the office in Booker's house, trying to focus on the paperwork I'd brought with me.
I’d escaped the clinic office because Marianne’s constant chirpiness was driving me crazy.
The clinic plans were moving forward faster than we'd anticipated, but there were still a thousand details to sort through. Permits, equipment orders, staffing—all of it needing my attention yesterday. The projected timeline we'd initially set had already been compressed by a month due to unexpected interest from potential clients.
Yet instead of focusing on any of these pressing concerns, I was checking my phone every thirty seconds like a teenager.
"What are you pacing around so much for?"
I looked up to see Booker leaning against the doorframe, his casted arm propped carefully against his chest, an amused smirk on his face.
"What?" I asked, realizing belatedly that I'd been wearing a path in his hardwood floor.
Booker's smirk widened into a full grin.
"Damn, you do not want to know what I owe Reece for getting this one right."
I retched dramatically, and Booker cackled with evil delight.
"Are you in love, little brother?" he asked when he finally stopped laughing.
I realized I'd pulled my phone out of my pocket again, checking for a message that wasn't there.
I shoved it deliberately back into my pocket, my face heating.
If only Booker knew about what I’d actually got myself into.
"What? No! I'm just—it's work. I'm expecting a call about... equipment. For the clinic." The lie sounded pathetic even to my own ears.
Booker clearly wasn't buying it either. I started spluttering further denials as a high-pitched whistle of panic started in my head. There was no way. No way I was falling for Blake Mitchell, of all people. The woman who'd spent the last few months making me blush and stammer with her outrageous comments. The woman who challenged everything I said and had opinions about everything I did.
The woman who'd felt so right in my arms when she cried.
She was a friend in need. The interest I had in her was merely one person who found another intriguing. Love was a word that didn’t fit anywhere near a picture that had me and Blake in it.
Booker laughed again and shoved his good hand in his pockets as he frowned at the cast then turned to leave. "Your appointment is here, by the way," he called over his shoulder. “And we hired an assistant for a reason, Xander. So I didn’t have to keep doing it all the damn time.”
I scowled after my brother as I tried not to smile. It was good to see Booker happy, even if he was out of his mind. The ranch accident that had nearly cost him his life had been a wake-up call for all of us. He'd been pushing himself too hard, trying to prove something that none of us needed proved. Now, with Reece in his life, he seemed to have found a balance I envied, and a happiness I'd never seen in him before.
I smoothed my shirt and took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together before meeting my appointment. Billie Schulster was waiting in the living room, her petite frame making Booker's over-sized leather chair look even more massive. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she stood when I entered, her bright blue eyes lighting up with recognition.
"Xander Farrington," she said, extending her hand. "You grew up."
"Billie." I grinned, taking her hand. "So did you."
I'd known Billie most of my life. She'd been in the same grade as my brother Gage at school, and the two of them had been inseparable. Best friends from kindergarten through high school, prompting years of teasing from me and my other brothers. She was petite and, though I'd never make the mistake of saying it to her face, cute as a button. But she was also feisty as hell, which I knew she was going to need for the position I was considering her for.
"Thanks for meeting me here," I said, gesturing for her to sit back down as I took the chair opposite. "The clinic space isn't quite ready yet, so we're making do with the house for now."
"No problem," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "Gave me a chance to see what Booker's done with the place. It's impressive."
"He's done good," I agreed. "So, let's talk about why you're here."
I went through the steps of giving her a proper interview for the position of senior physiotherapist at the clinic, despite knowing her since we were kids. The rehab center would be at the ranch, focusing on helping people recover from injuries and surgeries through not just traditional medicinal rehabilitation but through animal therapy with the horses Booker rescued as well. It was the heart of what Booker wanted to achieve at the ranch. We'd also need a mental health professional on board as well and I had a few promising candidates in mind already.
As we talked, Billie's passion for the project became more and more evident. She'd spent the last four years working at a major hospital in Seattle, but she spoke about returning to Willowbrook with a warmth that I understood all too well. The pull of home, even when you thought you'd escaped it for good.
"Your experience with sports injuries is impressive," I said, looking over her resume. "And the pediatric work—that's exactly what we need."
"Kids bounce back faster than adults," she said with a grin. "But they need someone who won't let them slack off just because they're cute."
I laughed, knowing she was exactly right. "Well, I don't think I need to drag this out any longer. The job is yours if you want it."
Her face lit up. "Seriously? Just like that?"
"Just like that. Are you ready to start straight away?"
She frowned slightly, confused. "But the ranch isn't up and running yet for clients, is it?"
I smiled, unable to keep the mischief from my voice. "Booker is going to be your first patient. He broke his arm in a ranch accident and is about to come out of his cast. He'll need extensive PT to regain full function, even if he doesn't think so."
"Talk about trial by fire," Billie grumbled playfully, but I could tell she was already mentally putting together a treatment plan.
"If you want my advice, get Reece to tell him what to do. He can't say no to her."
Billie smiled. "She's good for him. He seems... lighter."
"Speaking of the clinic," I said, pulling out a folder from the stack on the desk, "I wanted to get your thoughts on the timeline we're looking at. We’re already booked out for the first year after opening and we’re having to consider extensions earlier than we anticipated."
Billie took the folder, her eyebrows rising as she flipped through the pages. "Xander, this is... ambitious, to say the least. You're planning to be fully operational in less than two months?"
I ran a hand through my hair, the stress I'd been trying to ignore bubbling up. "I know. It's fast. But the demand is already there and I’ve had hospital and clinic directors contacting me to see what our capacity is going to be. People in this region have been driving two hours each way for decent PT services. There’s nowhere else in this state that offers what we’re offering here. Turning people away is something none of us like, and personally, asking them to sit on a waiting list that’s years long doesn’t feel great either."
"I understand the need," Billie said carefully, "but rushing can lead to mistakes. The equipment alone takes six to eight weeks for delivery, not to mention installation."
"We've expedited the orders," I replied. "Paid extra for priority shipping."
Billie's skeptical look mirrored my own internal doubts. "And the staff? You mentioned needing mental health professionals too."
"I have interviews lined up for next week," I said, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears. The truth was we were pushing too hard, too fast, and I knew it. "But I'm concerned about finding the right people in time. Quality shouldn't be sacrificed for speed."
"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than me," Billie observed. She set down the folder and leaned forward. "Look, I'm excited about this project. I believe in what you and Booker are trying to do. But you're setting yourselves up for burnout before you even start if you try to meet these deadlines."
I sighed heavily, acknowledging the truth in her words. "I know. But Booker's so invested in this timeline, and the early bookings—"
"Will still be there if you open a month later with everything properly in place," she finished for me. "You're a doctor, Xander. Would you rush a patient's treatment just because the waiting room was full?"
"Of course not," I said firmly.
"Then don't rush this either. Do it right."
We fell into reminiscing for a bit, catching up on the years since she'd left Willowbrook. We talked about her aunt, Mrs. Schulster, the formidable eighth-grade teacher who'd terrorized generations of Willowbrook children, including all of the Farrington boys.
"How is she? Still have that weird dog?" I asked.
"Titus? Oh yeah. That dog is immortal, I swear. I thought you'd been back in town for a while."
"I've been keeping to myself mostly. Figuring some stuff out." I shrugged as I evaded the real question and I could see Billie trying to put the pieces together in her head. The fact that she didn't try and pry reassured me that she was the perfect addition to the team we were putting together.
We wrapped up the paperwork, and as Billie gathered her things, she fixed me with a thoughtful look. "Are you planning to extend your practice into town? Willowbrook could really use a full-time doctor."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. It was a question I'd been asking myself a lot lately. The town desperately needed medical care beyond what they currently had. The closest hospital was an hour away, and the only doctor in town had retired meaning everyone now had to travel to the next town over. I knew I should say yes, that it was the right thing to do, but something was holding me back.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I'm focusing on the rehab center for now. With how quickly everything's moving, I'm not sure I could take on anything else without dropping the ball somewhere."
Billie studied me for a moment, something knowing in her eyes. "You know, Xander, it's not selfish to make choices that serve you. It's not selfish to choose what makes you happy."
"Even if other people need me?" I asked quietly.
"Especially then," she said firmly. "Because you can't help anyone if you're running on empty." She shouldered her bag and headed for the door. "Think about it. But don't do it just because you think you should."
I nodded, her words hitting closer to home than I wanted to admit. I'd spent most of my life doing what I thought I should, being who I thought I should be. Look where that had gotten me.
As she walked out, I checked my phone again. This time, there was a missed call from Blake. A confusing feeling surged to life in my chest as I stared at her name on the screen.
How did I feel about her? The question rose unbidden in my mind, encouraged by Booker's teasing and Billie's advice. Did I have feelings for Blake beyond wanting to help her? Yes, I was attracted to her, but was it already so much more than that? Was that why I'd proposed this crazy scheme?
I pushed the thoughts away with a shake of my head. It didn't matter right now. We had time to figure it all out. The important thing was helping her keep Amelia. Everything else could wait.
I pressed the call button, my heart still doing that strange flip as it rang. I didn't even want to think about the smile that spread across my lips at the sound of her voice.
I was in so much trouble.