Chapter Twenty

Ava

One good thing about working at a medical center is the benefits. I don’t have to pay a penny for my treatment. The notion is stunning—a first-rate hospital that doesn’t charge? I’ve always known our mission, what we were doing. But knowing it and actually experiencing it are very different. I feel a swell of pride to be associated with an endeavor like this.

The feeling lasts until I’m out by the exit in my nightshirt and realize that I don’t have a car…or money…or even the keys to my apartment. The only thing I do have is my phone. Unfortunately, I don’t know anybody in L.A. except Lucas—whom I can’t call—Jon and my coworkers. I feel awkward about asking Jon for help when I haven’t spoken to him since the opening, so I mentally cross a line through his name. It’s about four o’clock, though. Maybe if I wait another hour, someone going off shift can drop me at my place…

“Ava!”

I turn around to see Robbie trotting toward me. The collar of his white dress shirt is undone. “One of the nurses told me you were here. Why didn’t you call?”

“Um…” I pull my lips in, unsure what to say.

“You don’t have a ride, do you?”

“Well…no. But I know you’re busy—”

“It’s no bother. What kind of boss would I be if I let you go like this?” He glances down at my feet, which are in the hospital’s slippers.

We walk out to employee parking where his car—a sleek new BMW in dark gray—is waiting. As we pull out of the parking lot, I say, “I hate to bring this up, but don’t you have an appointment with your wife right now?”

“She canceled. An emergency surgery.”

“Oh, okay.”

“She’s saving lives.” His mouth is tight, but the smile is unmistakable.

“And you’re proud of her.”

“Very.”

We drive quietly, the silence broken only when I tell him to turn one way or another. About halfway home, we stop at an intersection. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, then abruptly stop.

“The nurses said Lucas brought you to the hospital.”

“That’s what I heard.”

He looks at me. “You don’t remember letting him in?”

“I don’t really recall much after I phoned you.”

The light changes, and we start moving again.

“I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you…” He clears his throat. “But I should’ve acted on instinct rather than waiting for you to say something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lucas’s been driving you way too hard, and you’ve been working yourself to death without a peep. Does he know how you feel about him?”

The question is so unexpected, I almost splutter. “I’m sorry, what?”

A rueful smile ghosts on his lips. “I saw the way you looked at him…and reacted when you overheard people talking about his affair with his new lady friend.”

My belly clenches at the mention of Faye—and what she means to Lucas now. “We…knew each other before, but we aren’t… I have no feelings one way or the other now.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I think he has feelings for you too. Just an observation.”

My mouth dries.

I am in love with you.

“You’re mistaken,” I say stubbornly.

There’s a short stretch of silence. “You know what my therapist told me once?” Robbie looks over at me. “He said people don’t always hear what’s being said because their mind filters everything through their past experience and bias.”

“Oh. Well…I guess that’s true.”

“Yeah, me too. But I think my therapist missed something. It’s not just words that we don’t hear. We also don’t see what’s real because we’re too busy filtering that through our experience and bias, too. It’s like we’re staring at the world through red lenses and wondering why everything is scarlet.”

I have nothing to say to that.

“If there’s an issue with working with Lucas, I can get Amanda to assist him instead. It’s no problem, and I won’t hold it against you.” He gives me a warm, reassuring smile.

I smile back. “Thanks, but I’m a pro. I can handle it.”

“Easy to say, harder to follow through with. Not saying you aren’t being truthful, but there’s no reason to put yourself in an uncomfortable situation. Feelings drive everything we do.”

I tell him to stop the car as we reach my apartment. “Can you get in?” he asks.

“I have the passcode for the lobby door, and if not, I have the super’s number.”

“Okay. Well, get better and don’t come back until you’re a hundred percent. I mean it.”

He waits until I’m inside the building before driving off. I smile at his thoughtfulness then go up to my apartment, which—thankfully—is both unlocked and un-burgled.

Kicking off the slippers, I flop down on the couch and stare at nothing. The apartment is dead silent, providing a perfect environment for me to sit and let my mind process everything.

Lucas is going to marry Faye. The idea is as painful as an amputation.

I am in love with you.

So am I. I finally, finally admit it to myself in the tiniest internal voice. It’s damn scary—terrifying, really—almost as bad as the time I thought I’d lose Mia because she was born too small. My limbs shake, nausea churning in my belly.

You didn’t fight for him.

How can I? I swore I would never end up like my mom. And so many things Lucas has done remind me of the way Dad treated us.

Gifts. Emotional unavailability. Smooth talk and excuses about why he couldn’t be with us or spend any holidays together.

Of course, he was never available because he had a real home waiting—a three-story brick house with a two-car garage and a yard in one of the nicest and most expensive counties in the country. It’s a wonder he spent any time at the roach-infested one-bedroom apartment where Mom and I lived—except for the sex. I didn’t understand the moans, the slaps, the filthy things they said to each other until later…but now I wonder if maybe he couldn’t get the kind of kicks he wanted from his pricey suburban wife.

I am in love with you.

My hand clenches against my breastbone. What if he meant it…and you chose not to believe him because of what Dad did to Mom?

If he meant it, he would’ve never let me find out about the deal between him and his father that way.

But what if Lucas never found a good time to fess up, the way I never did about Mia? What if I’m the one who’s being prejudiced and rejecting him based on past experience? What if I didn’t hear what he was really trying to say?

Will I be able to live with myself if I unknowingly throw his love away? I’d crawl across an acre of barbed wire if that would give us the happiness we had at the bed and breakfast. There I felt like the center of his universe, the sole object of his love and regard. And he filled my vision, filled my heart, was only one I wanted to hold in my arms forever.

I bury my face in my hands and let out a soft sob. I’m no longer convinced of anything. I’m looking for a guarantee—that he truly, honest to God loves me and that he won’t hurt me…ever.

Except… I should know better. There are no guarantees in life. The only guarantee that we’re all going to die one day.

So why not seize what happiness you can while you’re alive?

Because it’s not that easy. Nothing’s that easy.

Crippling fear presses down on me, and I bite my lower lip until it’s numb with pain. I’ve never felt so lost.