Page 24 of Rescue

“Her daughter, Layla, is this whirlwind of energy. And Abigail, she just…” I hesitate, searching for the words. “She makes you feel like you’re not as broken as you think you are. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Tom says softly. “It does. Sounds like someone you could use in your life.”

I exhale a short laugh. “It’s not like that. I mean, it’s not going to be like that. She’s just—she’s different. And somehow, I ended up telling her more about myself in a week than I’ve told most people in years.”

There’s a knowing chuckle on the other end of the line, and I can almost see Tom smirking. “And then?”

“And then…” My ears start to burn hot, though there’s no one around to see it. “It, uh… escalated.”

Tom bursts out laughing. “Oh,now this is good. So, you’re not just moping around Yorkshire, then. You’re getting some action.”

“It’s not like that,” I say quickly, though the words feel weak even to me. “It just happened. We were talking, and then—”

“And then?” Tom prods, clearly enjoying this.

“And then things got… physical,” I admit, lowering my voice. “It wasn’t planned. Hell, it caught me completely off guard.”

“Well, good for you,” Tom says, his tone genuine now. “Maybe this is exactly what you need, Jon. Someone who reminds you there’s still something good out there.”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, my gaze drifting to the horizon. “It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated,” Tom counters. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. And what now? You going to see where it goes?”

I run a hand over my face, conflicted. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly in a place to be… anything. And she’s got her own life. Her daughter. This isn’t—”

“Stop,” Tom interrupts firmly. “You’re overthinking. Just let it be what it is, Jon. You don’t have to plan out the next ten years right now.”

I chuckle faintly. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

“You’d better,” Tom laughs. “And hey, if you end up marrying this Abigail, I’m calling dibs on being best man.”

“Fuck off. I’m hanging up,” I chuckle, shaking my head.

“Take care of yourself,” he says warmly before the line disconnects.

I sit there for a moment longer, the phone resting in my hand, before finally slipping it into my pocket.The wind picks up, rustling the grass around me, but my thoughts are elsewhere.

Abigail. Maybe Tom’s right. Maybe, for once, I should just see where this leads.

The taxi pulls up in front of Sunshine Cottage, the tyres crunching on the gravel. I climb out, grabbing the shopping bag from the seat beside me and thanking the driver. The walk to St. Claire had been refreshing, but my legs were ready for a break after the trek. The drive back was a welcome reprieve, especially with the weight of the shopping pulling at my arm.

Before I can reach the door, it bursts open, and Layla flies out, her backpack swinging wildly. She skids to a stop in front of me, her eyes darting straight to the bag in my hand.

“Doctor Jon!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes. “What’s in there?”

“Food,” I reply, holding the bag up.

Her curiosity is insatiable. “Food? What food? Can I see?”

I chuckle at her enthusiasm, but before I can answer, Abigail appears in the doorway, tea towel slung over her shoulder. Her smile is warm but quickly shifts to suspicion as she spots the bag.

“Food?” she echoes, her eyebrows rising.

“I went shopping,” I say simply as I step past Abby into the house and head towards the kitchen. “Thought I’d cook dinner tonight.”

Layla and Abigail follow me. “You’re a guest, Jon. You’re not supposed to cook,” Abby protests.

“Consider it my contribution,” I say, setting the bag on the counter and starting to unpack. “It’s happening, Abigail. No use arguing.”

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