Found in Wild Sage (Juniper View #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Evie

These hands might be the death of me.

I can hardly take a sip of coffee without it sloshing over the side of my mug. Granted, it’s not anywhere near warm. But I can’t stop the shaking—can’t control it ever since I met with my lawyer this morning.

I can’t make them. Usually, I breathe through panic. Usually, I pull myself together when I’m at work, so it feels like I’m at least a little competent and not a snowballing mess at all times.

But the news Davis gave me? I’ve been dreading it, a crawl of worry now sprinting straight for me.

My ex, who is out of jail early on good behavior, is filing for custody of our son.

This isn’t, in itself, what has me feeling like I may lose the half a peanut butter and jelly I choked down minutes ago after meeting at the law office. I’ve known my ex wants custody of Charlie for three months.

I’ve hoped the reality of our situation would win out.

He’s fresh out of jail after kidnapping not only me, but also America’s sweetheart and internationally renowned movie star Jack McKean. Yes, he convinced the judge he did this under duress because he had an incredible lawyer, but still. That should disqualify him, shouldn’t it?

It’s what I hoped and prayed and willed the result to be.

Today, Davis dumped the truth over my head in the nicest way possible.

“I’m sorry, Evie. I hate to say it, but he’s got a case.”

It doesn’t mean he’ll win. Of course it doesn’t. But the fact that he can even bring the claim at all is alarming.

Davis used phrases like long shot and unlikely and odds are against him, but all I heard was, “he’s got a case.” Even if everything else applies, the pit of dread threatening to swallow me up says I will take this seriously.

I should call Jack and let him know—my former boss and all-around good guy turned friend would help in a heartbeat, but he’d insist on hiring his lawyer to fight this, and I don’t want that.

I trust Davis. He’s a good man and he knows our case because he dealt with all of it when I needed him about fifteen months ago just after I arrived in Juniper View.

The clinic office is quiet today. There’s no one in the cheery waiting room with teal industrial-cushioned chairs and a pleasant landscape photo on the wall behind. No kids to race the wooden train along the tracks or flip through Highlights magazines while they wait to see the doctors.

Only a week ago, it was nonstop with school and sports physicals. No time to worry or think.

But here we are… dead as my hope for a simple custody battle.

I wish it were packed so I could focus on scheduling and pulling patient charts instead of experiencing the full-body nervous system response grabbing hold of me now.

I’m sweating, or shivering, or both. I’m a heartbeat of silence with my thoughts away from the mouth-watering sensation that harkens losing one’s lunch.

Can’t a girl get a round of Norovirus or a quick, mild strain of the flu at the elementary school? Where’s the annual back-to-school bug? Though it’s a touch early for that since school hasn’t started up quite yet.

What a sick thought. Clearly, I’m not at my best.

Dr. Ryan walks out from the back into the office, a folder in his hand, jerking me out of my dark thoughts.

Despite the nerves and nonsense roiling around in my head, my stomach still swoops low when our eyes meet as he glances up.

So I still have it in me for some nonsense. Good to know.

I set my mug of now-cold coffee down before I end up spilling it all over my keyboard. I probably shouldn’t be drinking caffeine except I feel utterly exhausted on top of the anxious energy.

“Is Charlie okay?” Dr. Ryan speaks with hardly any inflection, though his face features a furrow between his dark brows.

I’m hiding my angst perfectly well if he’s asking—super.

I don’t want to worry Declan—Dr. Ryan—so I rush to make sure he knows. “He’s fine, yeah.” I meet his stunningly blue eyes again and paste a smile on.

His gaze narrows. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow, nerves ratcheting up as guilt swarms my chest like wasps. “It’s nothing. I apologize if I seem off.”

I’m everything at once—embarrassed he can tell something’s wrong, upset I’ve failed so completely at hiding that I have a problem, and angry Trevor the horrible human being is still affecting my life.

And oh… no. No.

The tears are coming.

Don’t you dare cry, Evie Hansen.

“Evie. What is it?”

His voice is softer now. Less demand and more… plea.

It’s the perfect thing. The absolute right way to talk to me now and it’s disarming enough, my defenses drop. His gentleness is the perfect key to unlock me.

I clear my throat and admit, “Charlie’s father is attempting to gain custody.”

His jaw flexes. “You mentioned this a few weeks ago.”

Is he annoyed I’m repeating it? Or concerned? I can’t read him.

It has been a few weeks since he heard me telling Maggie. It’s been a few months since I told Sam. The entire summer has been swallowed up by the specter of Trevor pretending he wants to be a father, but it has never felt like an imminent threat until today.

“Yes. Well. Now I’m being told that he has a decent chance of getting custody because he’s married, and I’m a single mom.”

Do not cry. Do not cry.

I’ve never felt like a pity case, even when Jack has helped me, but I’m bordering here if I cry at work with a man I—with my boss.

“I’m not sure what to do,” comes out in such a small voice, I wonder if the words even made it out past my lips.

His sharp, brilliant eyes study me, and somehow, I manage not to drop my head. I’m not ashamed of who I am or why I’m here, but I hate that I hear an old, nasty voice in my head tempting me toward it.

Aren’t you pathetic for whining to your boss like this? Isn’t it just like you to lose your cool at work? Shouldn’t you be embarrassed you’re such a mess?

I grit my teeth against the onslaught. I won’t listen to that voice—one that sounds suspiciously like my ex’s. And from the man in front of me? I don’t want his pity; I don’t want his consolation, even.

I have wanted a lot of things from Declan Ryan, but he’ll never know them. Pity is for darn sure not one of them.

“You should get married, then.”

It’s a proclamation.

Ouch. Dr. Declan Ryan is usually a jarring combination of gentle and forthright. In this case, I suppose it’s the latter. “Right.”

“I mean it. Get married. Problem solved.”

And maybe he can be a bit obtuse.

I exhale a bit of my frustration. “Yes, well, it’s not that easy. I’m not even dating anyone. Who would I marry?”

I take a sip of coffee to give me something to do with my hands and my face and my stupid mouth that got me into this.

“You could marry me.”

I choke on the tepid drink as my brain scrambles to make sense of it. “You? Why—why would you do that?”

He blinks.

Is he realizing what he’s just said? I’ve never known him to say something he doesn’t mean, or even speak impulsively. If someone told me the phrase “a man of few words” was created in reference to him, I’d believe it.

There’s no way he means this, though. He can’t. It’s too much. It makes no sense. He can’t possibly—

“Because I can.”

Because he…

“Because you can? How is that a response? How—”

“Sorry I’m late! Dora and Arnold are coming right behind me. Doc, you ready for them? Is Dr. Martinez back from lunch?”

Maggie, my fellow front desk buddy, bustles in with cheeks pink from the summer sun and her graying hair pulled back into a spiral of silver curls. She’s lovely and determined to get her ten thousand steps each day, so she spends most of the lunch break walking unless she has errands to run.

She has no idea what she’s walked in on.

Hey, Mags. Welcome back. Dr. Ryan here was just offering to marry me. How was your turkey sandwich from the deli?

“Yes. Send them back when you’re ready. Cory and Deliah should be good, too.” Dr. Ryan says all of this to Maggie, then his gaze flicks to mine. “I’ll update you on that later.”

My eyes might be the widest they’ve ever been, nearly falling out of my head, though I do manage to keep my jaw from falling open.

He’ll update me on what? His suggestion I marry him? His utter regret over having made such an offer?

Either way, I cannot handle that tonight. I have a million things to do before I pick up Charlie, and I need time or space or something before I can face whatever is coming out of that mouth next.

Also, I have the feeling that once the utter panic over the case subsides, this whole exchange is going to plague me for weeks.

Maybe months. The ache is already beginning in my chest, that crushing adoration of Declan morphing into utter humiliation that he’s trying to solve my problem by marrying me as if it’s no more consequential than scheduling an annual exam.

No. I can’t take any more of that today.

“It’ll have to be tomorrow morning,” I say, right as Maggie picks up a call and Dora and Arnold Lassiter walk in for their appointment.

Dr. Ryan greets them with a nod, then hits me with his gaze.

Oof. I lose track of everything else—all my thoughts, the people around me, and even the dread for what comes next. It’s just those blue eyes of his boring into me. Seeing past whatever it is I think I’m projecting and right to the heart of me.

Gosh, I hope he can’t see it—how it beats faster at simple eye contact.

He dips his chin ever so slightly. I huff a breath and do the same so he knows I get it. Or, I don’t, but I get that he’s not going to push me tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.

And until then, I’ll figure out how I can decline his offer if for some wild reason he decides to make it again.

One thing is for certain: I cannot marry Declan Ryan.