Will
Chapter eighteen
“Jewel?” She doesn’t turn, but I continue anyway. “I can keep making appointments, and you can keep agreeing to see me. It’s all very professional. But I don’t think that’s what either of us really wants. I’d like to take you for a drink so we can talk … about us.”
“There is no us. That ended when you ghosted me.”
With her back to me, I can’t read the play of emotions rolling across her features.
I’ve come to rely on her expressions to give me hints about what she’s thinking.
We may have only had one week of pure happiness as we got to know each other, but back then, holding Jewel in my arms felt like coming home.
And I miss that. I miss her more than I ever imagined it would be possible to need another person.
My next breath exhales on a heavy sigh. “I didn’t ghost you. I just couldn’t contact you. I’d like the opportunity to explain why, but it has to be somewhere outside this treatment room where we aren’t constrained by time or professional concerns and can speak privately.”
She doesn’t turn or immediately acknowledge my request in any way. Her back remains straight like she’s the poster child for ergonomic posture, and her gaze is glued to the computer screen in front of her.
“Please?” I’m beyond caring about how desperate and pathetic I sound. This could be my last chance to plead my case, and I’m not about to waste it.
The chair spins with a metallic whine. “No. It’s too …” She hesitates like she’s lost the rest of the sentence down a dark hole. I stand and shuffle two steps closer.
“Please,” I begin again. “What harm can there be? I give you my word that at the end, if you never want to see me again, I’ll leave.
” I swallow past the lump in my throat that has the taste and coarseness of gravel.
“All I’m asking is for you to hear me out.
” Defeat looms ominously over my shoulders, the weight threatening to pull them down.
We hold each other’s stare. A silent tussle between my determination and her resistance until her gaze drops to the floor.
I place one finger under her chin, the silky softness of her skin flooding my mind with memories as I tilt her face up to mine.
She doesn’t stop me and doesn’t pull away.
This close, the dusting of freckles across her nose from summers spent outdoors stands out against the pallor of her face.
“Fine,” she whispers, swaying a little closer.
I want to steal a kiss. Taste her sweet lips again, but I don’t dare. Instead, I mumble, “Thank you.” Then drop my hand back to my side.
She shifts in her chair, putting more distance between us, and blinks several times like she’s just realized where she is.
“Not a drink.” It takes me a second to understand the meaning. “I won’t allow you to use alcohol to talk me into your bed.”
“If not a drink, then when and where?”
“Saturday, three p.m. at the café next door. We can meet after I finish work.”
“That’s a date, then.”
“No.” The word flies from her mouth like a poison dart. “It’s definitely not a date. It’s a-a meeting … to talk.”
My excitement at her finally agreeing to meet me is tempered by the uneasy fidgeting of her fingers as they grip, release, then grab hold again around the edge of her chair. She doesn’t want to talk but understands I’m not going to give up until we do.
“Understood. A meeting to talk. Nothing more.” I grab hold of my crutch, standing straighter. “My leg does seem to be more mobile.” Surprise laces my comment.
“Good. But don’t let that trick you into doing too much walking on it,” Jewel warns.
Bumping across the floor to the door, my step feels lighter. The shooting pain that’s been like rivers of fire up and down my leg this last week has been replaced by a dull ache. “The pain is much better too.”
She doesn’t respond, but the smile she gifts me brings back happy memories of Southampton.
I pull the door open. “I’ll see you Saturday. Goodbye.”
Today’s visit can be chalked up as a success. Jewel might be telling herself that we are done, but with the way we left things, I think we’re just getting started.
Outside the clinic, determination straightens my spine as my fingers grip the crutch tighter. The jolting bump of the rubberized end hitting the pavement in a quicker rhythm than I’ve used before.
I’m early, a carry-over from years in the military.
While I wait, I return to an earlier message from Parker, anything to take my mind off meeting Jewel.
Nerves have been slowly filling my gut as each hour ticks by, and now, like a dam wall bursting under pressure, I’m splintering apart.
It’s a new experience and one I hope never to repeat.
Give me a dangerous mission any day over this fear of failing to convince the woman I’m falling for, to give us another chance.
The words of Parker’s question grow fuzzy as I stare at my cell, imagining the possible answers.
Parker: Have you got her back yet?
He sent the message last night, not in our group chat but directly to me.
Parker knew I’d met somebody while I was staying at the beach house.
He’d tried to get me to talk about Jewel when we were in Italy.
It was mostly because we’d run out of conversation while walking the hospital corridors outside Antonio’s room while he recovered from the severe beating he’d suffered.
I’d barely told him anything about her until the night I was stabbed.
That’s when everything I’d held tightly to my chest, including her name, spilled out in my incoherent ramblings as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
According to Parker, I couldn’t stop repeating her name, and he hasn’t let me forget it ever since.
From that point on, my so-called friend did some digging, and with access to the resources we have, it didn’t take him long to learn that she’s the physiotherapist I had traveled all the way to Brooklyn to see.
Me: I’m still not going to talk to you about her.
Parker: Too late. You already did.
I can imagine him sitting in the office, laughing his head off at my expense. After all, that was his reaction when he visited me in the Italian hospital and recounted in great detail what I’d said while I was hallucinating.
Me: It wasn’t by choice.
Parker: Even better. But in all seriousness, you’ve got strong feelings for this woman. You need to sort those out.
The annoyance at my friend butting into my relationship with Jewel immediately disappears because I know he’s right. It’s why I’m here. I care deeply for her. And while I’m not sure exactly when that happened, I do know it wasn’t long after we met. Another message flashes up from Parker.
Parker: If you don’t, then the next time I’m strapping up your sorry ass, I don’t want to hear it all again.
Me: This is you being serious. And you wonder why I don’t speak to you about personal stuff.
Parker: A very fair point. But I’ve gotta go. Get better and get your ass back to work because Ben is being a fucking moody bastard, and I need someone to share the load.
Something happened to Ben in the South American jungle that he refuses to talk about.
He came back with a whole new level of assholery that was completely out of character.
It lasted a couple of months before he slowly returned to his usual calm, focused self.
But now it sounds like he’s been triggered again.
I frown at my cell. It’s good to have someone else’s problem to think about rather than my own.