The Cottage was cleaner than it had ever been, which meant Joslynn had a serious problem. Every time she felt something in her life was out of control, she tried to seize that control back in one of the few ways she could—by fussing with her house.
Fussing? In the week since Russ had become harder to reach than a reclusive celebrity, she’d repainted the master bedroom, added new light fixtures to both bathrooms, and put up a new backsplash in the kitchen. If the man didn’t straighten up soon, she would probably remodel the entire house.
When she wasn’t tackling some project, she was at work or running. Yoga was a no-go, which made her frustration worse. She needed the process to relax, but she couldn’t turn her brain off long enough to let any endorphins flow. Instead of enjoying the stretching and the breathing, she found herself launching from one pose to the next just to get the damn sessions over.
Why was this happening? When she’d finally accepted that she’d fallen in love with Russ, he’d begun treating her like she had a contagious disease.
What in the hell happened?
This was all her fault. Instead of following her usual, safe pattern with men, she’d caved. She’d agreed to open herself up, to open up a heart she’d believed was cold. And she’d fallen in love with Russ Green. She’d committed to a relationship with him. She’d even found the courage to explore the scary question of her fertility.
What had that relationship brought her? Where there had been trust, companionship, and caring, there was suddenly loneliness, silence, and anger.
Well, that was all ending. Now. One way or another, she was going to pin him down and find out exactly what was going on and why he’d done the unexpected one-eighty.
How odd to pick up her phone and have it immediately begin to ring. Had Russ realized how desperately she needed to talk to him?
Instead of her boyfriend, the call was from her family doc’s office. “Joslynn Wright.”
“Joslynn, it’s John Blunt.”
Her heart leaped into her throat. Usually when she had her routine blood work drawn, she received a call from his nurse, saying her numbers were fine. Why would the busy doctor take the time to talk to her during the workday?
Maybe he’d accidentally received her hormone workup and wanted to tell her about it himself. “Dr. Blunt. Hi. What’s going on?”
“I don’t need to put on the kid gloves with you, Joslynn. The numbers aren’t what I’d like to see.”
Terror flooded her mind, making her vision tunnel and her breathing speed. “Which numbers?”
“Mostly white differentials.”
“Chemo?” she whispered.
“Now, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” he replied. “Let’s run some new blood work and get you in here for a physical. If those aren’t what I’d hope, then we’ll do a PET.”
“When?”
“For the physical, let me check my schedule…Can you make it in on Friday at one?”
A glance to the calendar hanging on the refrigerator showed her open on Friday. “I can be there.”
“Good. We can draw blood then, or you can swing by the hospital lab when you’re at work so we have the results by Friday. I’ll leave orders in the system.”
“Thank you, Dr. Blunt.” Such an odd name for a doctor, yet a trait she admired in any caregiver she worked with.
“Hopefully, this is nothing,” he cautioned. “I know you’re an NP, so don’t start thinking about things too hard. Okay?”
“Okay,” she lied, knowing damn well she’d do nothing but think about the ramifications of her screwed-up blood tests until she drove herself into a panic attack.
“This could be nothing. You know that as well as I do.” He sounded so hopeful.
“Right.” Already searching for reasons for the abnormal tests, her first thought was that her summer allergies were kicking in. That was why her whites were “off.” Allergies. Nothing but allergies.
But that didn’t account for her increasing fatigue, or for her losing several pounds with no change in her diet. Her intuition had been whispering that something wasn’t quite right, which had prompted her to get her annual blood screenings done a few weeks earlier than necessary.
“Are you okay, Joslynn?” Dr. Blunt asked.
“I’m fine.” Just fine. Always “fine.”
“Then I’ll see you Friday.”
“See you then.” After ending the call, she stared at the phone, marveling at how one phone call—a few simple words—could spin the entire world off its axis.
No matter how much she tried to heed the doctor’s advice to wait, to not overreact, her thoughts shouted at her.
I have cancer. Again.
It had always been the thing she feared most, and yet she’d always understood that it was a possibility. While the odds were that her acute myelogenous leukemia hadn’t returned, survivors of childhood leukemia had a much higher risk of developing other forms of cancer. A PET scan was likely to reveal hot spots somewhere on her body. A section of colon. A swollen gland. Her pancreas or her liver. Something would scream at the radiologist that cells were dividing and multiplying there at an alarming rate that could equal only one thing.
Cancer.
Bad news followed right on the tail of good.
Russ. She’d have to tell Russ. She wanted to tell Russ, to have him take her into his arms, kiss her hair, and tell her everything would be all right.
Joslynn almost called him right then and there before remembering that even if she tried to call, there was no guarantee he’d answer.
Emotions brewed inside her, twisting and turning, rising higher and higher until she hurled the phone at the wall. It made a dent in the sheetrock before falling to the tile, still in one piece.
* * *
Russ had to resist the urge to groan when he walked into the office at Words & Music and found his two partners waiting there with frowns fixed on their faces.
“Let me guess…” He shut the door. “I forgot our monthly partners’ meeting again.”
Ethan turned to Brad. “You know, I’m not sure what’s worse. Dealing with him or dealing with Savannah and Chelsea when they’re on a mission.”
“The women,” Brad replied. “Definitely the women.” He leveled a glare at Russ. “Which is why we’re here to deal with you.”
Moving past where the two of them sat on the couch, Russ took the chair behind the desk. Considering the hostility in Brad’s voice, it felt good to have a barrier protecting him. This little ambush was most likely about what was happening between him and Joslynn, but that was none of their business.
Russ let the charade play out. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you know what a ripple effect is?” Ethan asked.
“No, Ethan. I don’t. Just like I don’t have a single clue what in the fuck you two are talking about or why you’re here.”
His anger seemed to have no effect on Ethan. “When you toss a small stone in the pond, it makes ripples that expand as they spread out.”
Russ rolled his eyes. “Thank you for that wonderful science lesson.”
“You threw the stone,” Brad said. “And you rocked our boats.”
“It’s been a decade since we smoked weed together, but damn. You two sound stoned.”
“What did you do to Joslynn?” Ethan asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He asked what you did to Joslynn,” Brad replied.
Leaning back in the chair, Russ folded his arms over his chest. There was no way either of them would ever understand why he was making the difficult choice of easing away from her, and he didn’t feel any need to explain it to them.
He was setting her free, and there wasn’t a thing they could say that would change his mind. “First off, what happens between Josie and me is none of your damn business. Second, I didn’t do anything to her.” Except ignore her.
Two loud snorts echoed through the room.
“What did Savannah and Chelsea tell you?”
“Nothing specific,” Brad admitted. “Just that Joslynn was really upset and it was your fault.”
“That’s it?” Russ shouted. “They said she was really upset and you two planned this inquisition?”
“Inquisition?” A scoffing laugh slipped from Ethan. “Overdramatic much, buddy?”
Russ shook his head. “Josie never gets upset. It’s not in her DNA.”
DNA. The fucking source of the problem. But he wasn’t going to burden his partners with what he’d learned. They’d know. Eventually.
Not yet, though.
“Look,” Brad said, “it’s like this, Russ. When my wife says to fix something, I fix it. And she wants me to fix whatever you did to Joslynn. So I’m here to do exactly that. What did you do to her, anyway?”
“I don’t have time for this.” When Russ started to stand up, his partners jumped to their feet as though they’d use physical force to keep him there.
“Sit down, Russ,” Ethan cautioned.
The anger inside Russ made him clench his hands into tight fists, and it took all his self-control not to turn his rising fury on his best friends. What happened between him and Josie was no one’s business but their own, despite what Savannah and Chelsea—or their husbands—seemed to think.
At that moment, he had enough demons to battle as he waged a war neither of them knew a damn thing about. Everything inside him wanted to go to Joslynn, to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness for the cold shoulder he’d given her. He wanted to hear that she loved him enough that she’d face his bleak future at his side.
But then images of his mother’s battered face would fill his mind, and he’d know that there was no way he’d ever put Joslynn through an ordeal like that. What he was doing by distancing himself was letting her down easy and sparing her a future of misery.
He scowled at his partners. “Look, you two might let your women carry your balls in their purses, but I’m not about to. Stop bitching at me and let me get back to work.”
Russ stormed out of the office before he broke down and told them what was wrong.
And how there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do to change it.