Page 10 of Moonshot

“Yeah, well.” Zach shrugs.

I get it. It’s only him and the dog. Might as well spoil it. Zach has sadly become quite the loner over the last few years. He barely resembles the larger-than-life boy I idolized growing up. But sometimes, life throws you curve balls you aren’t ready to catch. Or, in Zach’s case, a torpedo.

There wasn’t a time I could remember when Zach wasn’t in my life. Growing up, he lived right next door. My mother and his were best friends. Still are. A relationship that grew based on their shared circumstance. Both became single parents after their husbands walked away without a second glance. Mrs. Henry had been alone for several years before my father abandoned us. It felt as if Zach and his mother made it their mission to look out for us during those early transitional years. It was hard, but he gave me the male role model I needed.

Zach is almost twelve years my senior. He’s always felt like the older brother I wish I’d had. He stayed in his family home as he prepared for the fire academy and remained a constant presence in my life. Even during our darkest days, as my dream career went up in smoke and his family life crumbled, ending in divorce, we tried to keep the lines of communication open.

But while I’ve tried to rejoin the living, coaching this team, and at least questioning taking a chance on a relationship, Zach stays put in his self-imposed exile. I don’t push him. It’s not worth risking that I could be the next casualty in his seclusion. It’s his life, and he needs to decide what’s best.

But for me, I’m growing tired of the isolation. I’ve never felt as alive as when I spent that lunch with Ava. I don’t want to end up like Zach, lost and alone. I’m ready to live again.

CHAPTERSIX

Ava

God, this one’s bad.It’s been a long while since I’ve had a migraine so intense I had to renege on a commitment. Yet, here I am still in bed, lying in the dark. Allison, our office manager, was so kind when I called to tell her I might not make it in today. Somehow, I doubt Dr. Stark will be as understanding.

I’ve showered, taken several prescription migraine pills, and hydrated with so much water I think I could float. The headache has started to ease somewhat, so I contemplate my schedule and consider my options momentarily. If I go in at lunch, I only have three hours to see patients before I can turn my lights off and finish up my day. This could be doable. I’m sure my musing has nothing to do with the fact Mick is coming today. But what better medicine could there be?

Looking at the clock, I notice I have only forty minutes before Mick is due to arrive at the office. Jumping from the bed as if I’m suddenly on fire, I hastily dress, try to apply a little makeup to conceal the discomfort I’m dealing with, and race out of the door.

* * *

Practically sprinting into the clinic, I drop my things in my office and approach Joanie.

“Hi, love. You feeling any better?” she asks.

“Yes, a bit. I’m sorry I had to inconvenience anyone. When the headache started to ease off, I got here as fast as I could.”

“Ava, don’t be silly. You’ve managed to work around your headaches for so long. You push through when anyone else would’ve gone home. You’re one of the toughest people I know. It’s okay. You just missed Michael, though.”

My face falls at this news before I can remember I have an audience.

“Yeah, I thought you might be sweet on him. He’s awfully cute.” She taps her finger against her chin with a knowing grin.

I can’t help smiling back. “Yes, he is.” The grin quickly fades as it dawns on me the one highlight of my day is gone. Damn headaches. Trudging back to my office, I try to make the best of the remainder of my afternoon and not focus on the fact that it’ll now be another two weeks before I see that ‘awfully cute’ guy. Why hadn’t he asked for my number at lunch that day? If I had his, I’d text him to let him know I’m here. Not too desperate, right? I have his business card from prior visits, but calling his work number feels a little over-eager.Gah! The next two weeks can’t go by fast enough.

* * *

“Ava, would you mind joining me for lunch? I need to go over a few things with you, and I don’t want to put this off. Unfortunately, my afternoon is full, so I can’t do it later in the day.” Dr. Stark asks from the doorway. Nothing he asks ever really feels like a question. It’s more of a command he’s waiting for me to acknowledge.Tool. I try not to laugh at the term of endearment Michael gave him.

The last thing I want to do is join this horrid man, but I feel like I owe it to him after bailing on my patients this morning. “Sure, Dr. Stark. Are you eating in your office or going to the physicians’ lounge?”

“Neither. I’m headed to the cafeteria. Felt like something from the grill today. We can eat outside in the atrium.” He waves his hand at me to pick up the pace.

As we approach the cafeteria, Dr. Stark heads for the grill line to grab his food, and I look for a table under the overhang to prevent direct sunlight. The combination of bright light and Joseph Stark are about the two worst things I can come up with to soothe a migraine. Luckily, the cafeteria line doesn’t seem too long today, and it’s only a few minutes later when I see him leaving his place in front of the cashier. I watch as he spots where I’m seated, carrying over his food and water.Nice of him to ask if I wanted anything. Asshole.I reach into my pocket and grab a peppermint. Removing the plastic wrap, I pop the minty treat into my mouth. Something tells me this interaction will bring on the need to hurl.

Before sitting down, Dr. Stark drags the black wrought iron chair across the cement and then lurches forward toward the table with his seat, creating a horrific sound in its wake. Is he completely unaware that I called out this morning due to a headache? Knowing this troll, he likely just couldn’t give a shit. I mean, I’ve had them repeatedly over the years that I’ve worked with him. Never once has he asked if I was okay.

Joseph Stark is a menace. He doesn’t hide the fact that he treats the male physician assistants quite differently than he treats me. I’m surprised he doesn’t ask me to fetch his coffee for him each morning. He’s probably worried one day I’ll snap and put something in it. I’m shocked he’s married. If he treats his wife the same way he treats the women here, well, I don’t know why anyone would put up with him.

He takes a large bite of his sandwich before putting it down on the paper wrap in front of him. Placing one arm around the back of my chair, he leans in. The pungent odor of tuna melt on his breath practically smacks me in the face, and I try to focus on the peppermint in my mouth. “So, Ava, I was disappointed to hear we had to move several patients this morning. That’s not like you to be so unprofessional.”

My head abruptly snaps in his direction, mouth falling open in consternation at his statement. “Dr. Stark, I called out sick this morning because I had a debilitating migraine. It was so intense it wasn’t safe to drive, much less provide optimal care to any patient I evaluated.” I deliberately stop my rant to calm myself before continuing. “I’d thought I might need the entire day off, but when the pain eased a bit, I decided to come in so I could prevent having to reschedule any more patient appointments. I’ve worked here for years, and I’ve never called out sick.” I hate that it happened.ButI’m only human, for God’s sake.

“I understand, Ava. I’m just saying that a little more notice might be appreciated. Most of these patients are people you’re seeing in follow-up of surgery I performed. Your unprofessionalism can be a direct reflection on me.” He digs into his foul-smelling lunch as if what he’s said isn’t the most magnanimous, insulting thing I’ve ever heard.I’ll try to plan in advance of an incapacitating migraine in the future.“I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well, but I felt it was my duty to remind you how your actions can affect my practice.”

I suddenly feel his hand caressing my back, and I fight the urge to rip his arm off and shove it down his throat.Maybe if I take a big whiff of his food, I can just barf on him and call it a win.Whatever mild relief I’d received with my earlier attempts to medicate this migraine has completely evaporated. I’m sure the fact that I’m fuming isn’t helping. I make a mental note to start considering other options for work if this behavior continues and hold my tongue for now. It certainly won’t help my headache to go off on this asshole in the middle of the crowded atrium. And if my reaction to him continues to escalate, he’s going to see yesterday’s lunch in his lap whether I try to prevent it from happening or not.

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