Page 128 of The Matchmaker
Callum goes quiet. “He’s still there?”
“Yeah. We’re…well, we’re not bonding exactly, but we’re talking.”
“Talking?”
“I’m as surprised as you are. He’s a lot less of a dick when he loses.”
“Katie—”
“I’m okay,” I assure him. “Honestly. The nurse said they’ll know more in a few hours, and I’ll feel so much better if I don’t have to worry about things back home. Please, Callum. To make up for the pancakes.”
He huffs, but he sounds less worried now I’m making jokes. “Okay,” he says. “If that’s what you want me to do. But I want updates from you. Tell Jack to text me if you can’t. I’ll unblock his number.”
“You blocked his—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. Brothers. “I’ll text you,” I say. “I promise. I—”love you. The two words are on the tip of my tongue, about to spill out of me so naturally it’s almost frightening.
“Katie?”
“I’ll see you tonight,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Okay.” He sounds confused, but I hang up before I make my life even messier and return to the waiting room to find Jack where I left him.
“You really don’t have to stay here,” I tell him, but he ignores me, scrolling through his emails until I sit beside him again.
“You should see someone,” he says, when I do. “About your car thing.”
I frown, thinking back to the noise the engine made. “It’s a little old,” I say defensively. “But it works fine. And we don’t use it enough to—”
“Not amechanic,” he interrupts, like I’m an idiot. Which, yes, fine. “I mean a therapist.”
“A therapist?”
“For your anxiety,” he clarifies. “Have you seen one before?”
Not since I was a child. I did the usual “answering questions while I filled in a coloring book” thing and I’m pretty sure Granny took me to a grief counsellor, but no one since. “I don’t really like to talk about it.”
“You should,” he says. “It would help. I can give you the name of someone, if you want.”
His tone is offhand, his attention still on his phone, but I recognize an olive branch when I hear one.
“Thanks,” I say, settling back in the chair. “That would be great.”
And that’s how I start my truce with Jack Doyle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The doctors decide to keep Granny in overnight, a development neither of us is pleased about, but we don’t really have a choice.
Jack insists that he should drop me straight home, that I need to rest, but a whole day has passed since the blackout, and I want to make sure everything is okay. So, despite his oddly well-meaning protests, I direct him through the village to the fireworks field, and he pulls up just as the first one is released into the sky. A loud cheer from the gathered crowd sounds as soon as it does, and for a moment, the two of us just sit there, before I twist in my seat to face him. “Do you want to join us?”
I have a sudden vision of welcoming Jack into the village fold. Of him and Callum embracing, of Jack maybe making a little speech, eating some popcorn, and undoing the top button of his shirt to show how he’s a changed man. Instead, he just looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Why would I want to do that?” he asks.
“I don’t know. It just seems like something that should happen.”
“Well, it’s not going to,” he says, unlocking the doors so I can get out. “I need a shower and a firm mattress. Out you get.”
“But—”
