not.”
One scuffed motorcycle boot appeared on the other side of the log where she was seated, the footwear in stark contrast to the flowing green graduation gowns they both wore—and probably topping the school’s list of banned attire for tonight’s ceremony.
The gown made her smile. Clint, in what amounted to a dress. She hoped someone had gotten a picture of that.
He sat beside her as she hurried to scrub away the evidence of her anguish. Not soon enough, though, because cool fingers touched her chin, turning her head toward him. “You’re a terrible liar, Jessi May.”
Somehow hearing the pet name spoken in something other than his normal mocking tones caused hot tears to wash back into her eyes and spill over, trailing down her cheeks until one of them reached his thumb. He brushed it away, his touch light.
She’d never seen him like this. Maybe the reality of the night had struck him, as well. In a few short hours, her group of friends would all be flying off to start new lives. Larry and Clint would be headed for boot camp. And her best friend would be spending the next year in Spain on a college exchange program.
They were all leaving.
All except Jessi.
She was stuck here in Richmond—with an overly strict father who’d come down hard when he’d heard Larry was gearing up for a career in the army. The papers weren’t signed yet, but they would be in a matter of days. She’d done her best to hide the news, but her dad had been bound to find out sooner or later. He didn’t want her involved with a military man. Kind of unreasonable in a place where those kinds of men were a dime a dozen.
Maybe she should have picked an out-of-state college, rather than choosing to commute from home. But as an only child, she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to leave her mom alone in that huge house.
“What’s going on, Jess?” Clint’s voice came back to her, pulling her from her pity party.
She shrugged. “My dad, he … He just …” It sounded so stupid to complain about her father to someone who flouted authority every chance he got. If only she could be like that. But she’d always been a people pleaser. The trait had gotten worse once she’d been old enough to realize her mom’s “vitamins” were actually antidepressants.
Instead of the flip attitude she’d expected from Clint, though, his eyes turned this cold shade of gunmetal gray that made her shiver. His fingers tightened slightly on her chin. “Your father what, Jess? What did he do?”
Her teeth came down on her lip when she realized what he was saying. There’d been rumors about Clint’s family, that his father was the reason he was the way he was.
Her dad was nothing like that.
“He didn’t do anything. He’s just … unreasonable. He’s against me being with people like you or Larry.”
His head tilted. “Me … and Larry.” His mouth turned up at the corners. “I see your dad’s point. Larry and I are definitely cut from the same cloth.”
They weren’t. Not at all. Larry was like her. He was all about good grades and toeing the line. Clint, however, lived on the edge of trouble—his skull tattoo and pierced ear making teachers shake their heads, while all the girls swooned.
Including her.
His words made her smile, though. “You’re both going into the army.”
“Ah, I see. Your father wouldn’t like me, though, in or out of the army.”
Her smile widened. “He’s protective.”
He made a sound low in his throat that might have been a laugh. “The thing is …” his eyes found hers again and a warm hand cupped the back of her neck “… I didn’t know I was even in the running. So I’m neck and neck with Larry straight-A Riley.”
Something hot flared low in her belly. Clint had never, ever given the slightest hint he was interested in her. And yet here he was. Beside her. The only person to notice her walk off the stage and slip out the door after getting her diploma. The only one who’d followed her.
“I—I … Did you want to be?”
“No.”
The word should have cut her to the quick, except the low pained tone was somehow at odds with his denial.
“Clint …?” Her fingertips moved to his cheek, her eyes meeting his with something akin to desperation.
Another sound rumbled up from his chest, coming out as a groan this time. Then, something she’d never dreamed possible—in all of her eighteen years—happened.
Clinton Marks—bad boy extraordinaire—whispered her name. Right before his mouth came down and covered hers.
“CHELSEA’S NEW DOCTOR arrived today.” The nurse’s matter-of-fact words stopped her in her tracks.
Jessica Marie Riley blinked and turned back to the main desk of the Richmond VA hospital, where her twenty-one-year-old daughter had spent the past two months of her life—a frail shell of the robust soldier who’d been so proud of toughing it out at army boot camp.
It had always been just her and Chelsea against the world. They’d supported each other, laughed together, told each other everything.
Until she’d returned from her very first tour of duty as a former POW … and a different person.
“He did?” Jessi’s stomach lurched. Her daughter’s last doctor had left unexpectedly and she’d been told there was a possibility she’d be shuffled between the other military psychiatrists until a replacement could be found.
Maria, the nurse who’d admitted Chelsea and had shown a huge amount of compassion toward both of them, hesitated. She knew what a sore spot this was. “Dr. Cordoba had some family issues and resigned his commission. It really wasn’t his fault.”
Jessi knew from experience how devastating some family issues could be. But with the hurricane that had just gouged its way up the coast, her work schedule at Scott’s Memorial had been brutal. The shortage of ER doctors had never been more evident, and it had driven the medical staff to the brink of exhaustion. It also made her a little short on patience.
And now her daughter had lost the only doctor she’d seemed to bond with during her hospitalization.
Jess had hoped they’d finally get some answers about why Chelsea had spiraled into the depths of despair after coming home—and that she’d finally find a way to be at peace with whatever had happened in that squalid prison camp.
That tiny thread of hope had now been chopped in two. Anger flared at how easy it was for people like Dr. Cordoba to leave patients who counted on him.
Not fair, Jess. You’re not walking in his shoes.
But the man wasn’t walking in hers, either. He hadn’t been there on that terrible day when her
