Page 18 of A Place Like You

Seriously, I have no problem divulging the intricate dynamic of the Thorndale family, but my private life . . . well, that’s a different story. It’s too painful to remember and too tangled to unravel.

After what feels like forever, she finally breaks the silence. “Thank you for your offer. If you need to prescribe something, ask Victoria to do it electronically. Her number is written on a sticky note that’s attached to my screen. Please, don’t sign anything. I’ll be back around one to relieve you.”

With a playful tilt of an imaginary hat, I say, “I appreciate you doing this for me, trusting me with your clinic and patients.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” Her final words strike like a warning.

That’s a promise I can’t commit to. Sooner or later, she’ll likely join the ranks of those who’ve regretted letting me into their lives. I just know it. Is that a curse or just my fucking life? I really don’t know. Though I would very much like to not disappoint her, I undoubtedly will figure out a way to push her.

Or is that something I’m capable of changing since I’m trying to build a new life?

Chapter Ten

Wren

Since I’m completely drained, I decide to walk home instead of hopping into my car. Sure, there’s a third option, calling the taxi service in our small town, but I’d rather avoid Mr. Jensen. He’ll probably show me his new imaginary rash and pry into last night’s emergency. I don’t think I have the energy to handle any of that right now.

But naturally, I end up taking a detour to the local coffee shop. I desperately need another caffeine fix or one of those mouthwatering scones Drake’s brother brought to the clinic. However, I honestly want to indulge in one of those pieces of heaven before I head home. It’s been ages since I’ve eaten a pastry that good.

When I open the door of the shop, the air is thick with the rich scent of roasted beans and the tantalizing fragrance of sweet treats. The gentle hum of conversation and the delicate clinking of ceramic cups fill the air—and if there were any seats available I would sit here and enjoy my morning. I never have time for such luxury.

Normally, I’m either here to pick up something before heading to work, or I’m with Milo, and he can’t stand the sensory overload from this place.

As I join the line, Regina’s sharp gaze locks onto me. Her eyes convey disapproval, though I can’t fathom the reason behind it. Maybe someone ruined her breakfast by peeing on it? Though that sounds like a funny joke, it has happened before. Once, a dog escaped the kennel, and the next thing she knew, he ate her breakfast. Then, there’s the time when another one escaped its owner and peed on her—and her lunch box—as she was entering the vet practice.

The stories are countless, funny, and fortunately, she’s into self-deprecation, so we all laugh.

Before I can tease her about it, she blurts out, “I’ve been sending you texts all night, and you haven’t responded to me. I was concerned about you.”

A flicker of annoyance tingles through my veins, but I keep my voice steady. “I was preoccupied with an emergency.” I reach for her cup, intending to take a sip, but the bitter taste of the black, dark, and somber coffee makes me involuntarily spit it out. “It’s Saturday. Shouldn’t you be drinking something more mellow? This is going to keep you awake until next year.”

Regina’s eyes flit around the bustling café, mirroring the weariness within her and subtly reflecting my own fatigue. Her gaze scans the crowded space, revealing lines of exhaustion etched onto her face as if both her burdens and the weight of the world bear down upon her.

“I would,” she confesses, her tone laced with a touch of longing, “if I didn’t have to work today because the technician just quit on me via text. It’s worse than a stupid breakup with a hookup.”

Sympathy courses through me, causing a twinge of pain. “Sorry,” I mumble, hoping to convey understanding and support in a single breath.

With a hint of false resignation, she sighs. “It’s a part of my crazy life,” she admits. “One day, they will stay longer than their internship.”

“Maybe you should post the position or try a headhunter, instead of waiting for some university to send you a graduate who needs hours,” I suggest.

She mumbles her response, making sure our conversation remains between us. “I’ll do that as soon as you hire the secret Dr. Hunk.” Her voice holds a playful edge.

The unexpected term for Drake catches me off guard, causing my laughter to burst forth uncontrollably. The sound reverberates through the air, filling the cozy coffee shop with a lively energy. “Secret Dr. Hunk?” I exclaim, a mixture of amusement and disbelief coloring my words. The sheer absurdity of the notion tickles my funny bone. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re absolutely ridiculous?”

Her eyes twinkle mischievously as she leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “We—Jez and I—came up with that term last night,” she confesses. “Since we know Kershaw isn’t their real name, they’re now the secret hunks.”

A gasp escapes my lips, my hand instinctively touching my sternum, feigning shock. “You made decisions without Sutton or me?” I say, a playful hint of offense lacing my words.

Regina shrugs nonchalantly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “It’s the best thing we could do while we were studying her new employees,” she explains, drawing out the last two words with a touch of intrigue.

“Harassing employees is unethical and illegal,” I respond with mock seriousness.

An impish sparkle lights up her eyes as she bats her eyelashes, feigning innocence with a flirtatious charm. “They’re not my employees, you know,” she confesses, her voice laced with a subtle undertone of amusement. “And I was just watching and making sure they wouldn’t set the bar on fire during their first day.”

A grin tugs at the corners of my lips as I playfully retort, “You’re full of shit. You know that, right?”

“Probably, but it was an experience to watch the hunks working,” she says, and though her words aren’t telling me the whole story, I let it go for now.

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