Page 1 of Hold Me Instead (Elmwood Falls #1)

Charlie

His heart attack was all her fault.

Charlie Harris startled as a muffled alert squawked over the PA system, and then the waiting room was quiet, a cloak of urgency lingering. She crossed her ankles, the squeak of her berry-pink tennis shoes a piercing echo through the chamber of tiles.

She strangled a sob. “Get it together,” she whispered.

Her fingers clenched the crumpled coat on her lap, cool raindrops slipping off the waterproof material onto her palms. She focused on her breath, a rhythmic ticking from the empty nurses’ station outside the room joining the chorus, where a small witch figure on a broom tilted back and forth like a metronome.

Her eyes darted around for a distraction among all the beige.

A dozen empty burgundy chairs spruced up the small room, cushions dulled from years of concerned loved ones.

The only other person in her vicinity was an older woman a few seats down, asleep with her head cranked back on a sigh, mouth open.

Charlie shifted, her veterinary scrubs a staticky scrape against the fabric seat.

She contemplated leaving the woman alone versus being the stranger who startles her awake.

Considering it might require a physical nudge to the shoulder, the latter seemed too unsettling.

Besides, if this woman could manage to rest, surely there was a way Charlie could too .

Leave her alone .

She dropped her face in her hands, elbows to her knees, and groaned softly.

She’d believed Daniel that morning—he’d assured her he was fine, despite the sheen of sweat on his forehead and exhaustion etched in his face.

She should have insisted he go home, “fine” or not.

The week’s busy schedule had clearly affected him, all further hindered by her prearranged personal day.

If she hadn’t added time off this week, this could’ve been prevented.

If she hadn ’ t , if she had , could ’ ve , should ’ ve …She could do that dance all day.

Charlie struggled to swallow and traced divots in the armrest with a trim, bare fingernail.

It hardly registered that he was here, down the hall, just through the double doors.

The dreamlike state of the day had been filled with pet appointments, as though nothing traumatic had happened that morning.

As though her boss hadn’t been lying there on that stretcher with an oxygen mask, shockingly frail, rushed out of his clinic by EMTs. God, the helplessness of that moment…

Her gaze fell on the oversized painting in the small room, positioned like a picture window to a meadow. Tall grasses and wildflowers were swathed in golden rays, the colors homogeneous and dulled. It was likely stationed there for years, a totem to clouded hope for anyone seated alongside it.

“You got the time?”

Charlie blinked at her waiting room companion, who smiled back as though she hadn’t been snoring softly a moment earlier.

“Um.” Charlie fumbled her jacket for her phone. Five texts and two missed calls . “Quarter to eight,” she said .

The older woman hummed and shifted in her seat. “Any of the doctors been by recently?”

“Not since I arrived, no.” Charlie quickly scanned the missed calls, one from her mother and one from her cousin, Amber.

“Not even the young hot one?”

Charlie looked up. “Uh…no?”

The woman snorted. “Little bonus I’ve found to hanging around here. He’s a dish. Mint?”

She held out an open tin, a hint of a watch band peeking from the cuff of her shirt. The scent of roses followed her motion.

“I’m good, thanks.” Charlie couldn’t help a small smile as an ache pinged in her chest.

She reminded Charlie of her late grandmother, making friends wherever she went, always finding a way to engage others in conversation. This woman probably agreed with Nana’s motto: “ Ask someone for the time or have the chance to provide it . People need one another , Charlie .”

The woman snapped the tin shut with a nod, mints rattling as she stuffed them in her purse, then busied herself with a magazine.

Suspicious to find herself smoothly dismissed—Nana would never wrap things up that easily—Charlie clicked to her texts from Amber.

Amber : Ignore my call, here’s the skinny…

Amber : The Jackass of All Jackasses reached out thru my website. Wants to commission a custom child’s rocking chair.

Charlie frowned, the thought of her ex-boyfriend, Bobby—whose real name was rarely worth uttering—was unwelcome on a normal day, even after four years.

Amber : Should I say no?

Time stamp of twenty minutes later .

Amber : I should say no…

Time stamp of five minutes later .

Amber : I’m gonna say no.

Charlie tapped out a reply. He’d already done enough damage, wasn’t fair to take down Amber’s dream too.

Charlie : Take his money! And don’t deprive his innocent child of your handiwork.

Dots appeared immediately, signaling Amber’s reply.

Amber : Innocent? That kid is doomed.

Charlie snorted with a small shake of her head.

Charlie : Don’t curse the kid already, Amber.

Amber : [shrug emoji] Anyway, I don’t think he realizes it’s me.

Charlie : Your picture’s on your site…

Amber : Right below my name! He really is a dipshit. Look at that, my fee just went up!

Charlie chuckled. She could always rely on her cousin’s loyalty and levity.

But no matter how many marks her ex scored in the bastard category, she wasn’t about to let that cost Amber business as she nudged her woodworking off the ground.

Plus, unlike her cousin, Charlie had a little more faith in humanity that the kid could grow into a decent human.

Amber : You home yet?

Charlie’s fingers hovered over the phone. This week was taking its toll. While Amber was unaware Charlie had taken a day off, she needed her now.

Charlie : Actually just got to the hospital. Daniel had a heart attack this morning .

Amber : Oh shit.

Charlie : They did surgery as soon as he got here.

Amber : How is he?

Charlie : In recovery, it went well thankfully. Haven’t seen anyone yet, though.

Amber : Wow…

Another moment passed, then:

Amber : How are you?

Charlie swallowed. It was all surreal. He’d been operated on that morning.

But the person through those doors, down the hall, couldn’t be Daniel Lee—the one who’d cheered her on through vet school and attended her graduations like a proud parent.

Who jogged every morning, the same two-mile stretch he’d run for decades, even in a Wisconsin winter.

Who twirled his granddaughter around and let his grandson cling to his back.

She typed a simple I’m ok in reply, the statement as numb as she felt.

She’d worked hard to see all their scheduled patients, staying open well beyond their Saturday 4 p.m. closing time to do so.

She’d allowed work to consume her, as though he’d gone home with a common cold.

But it didn’t sit right. Not when she pictured the man who’d mentored her the last decade of her life and what he’d gone through today.

Hell, he and his wife treated Charlie like one of their own children—their daughter was like her big sister.

There was nothing comforting in following through with it all.

Daniel had endured a freaking heart attack, and Charlie had stayed at work.

He’d undergone intense surgery, and she’d barely arrived before visiting hours ended.

And here she sat, building up the nerve to see him.

She couldn’t go to his room. No matter how she looked at it, she was his employee, his co-veterinarian.

She wasn’t family—definitely wasn’t his daughter.

Another buzz in her hand.

Amber: Is Zachary in town?

The breath whooshed from Charlie’s mouth.

Daniel’s son was an entirely different story.

Seeing his name sent a shot of adrenaline through her so unexpected her entire body warmed.

She fanned the messy knot of brown hair resting at the nape of her neck.

The black shirt under her scrubs became too much, so she shoved the long sleeves up her forearms. Shit .

She might see him. Why hadn’t that thought crossed her mind? It’d been, what, five years?

Shut up , Charlie , you know it’s been six .

Amber: I bet he’s fucking gorge now.

Ugh, me too.

“You a doctor? Nurse? Or is that part of your costume?”

The older woman’s voice shook Charlie back to her surroundings, and she shoved the phone in a coat pocket like she’d been caught ogling a photo of the man in his presence.

She looked up, briefly surprised at the questions until she remembered her Halloween scrubs and cat ears headband.

Didn’t matter it was the weekend before, Halloween costumes could be celebrated all month as far as she was concerned.

“I’m a veterinarian,” Charlie replied. “Dressed up for my patients. So today, I guess I’m also a cat,” she said, touching the headband in her frizzed hair.

Her forced, nervous chuckle faded quickly at the unnecessary admission she’d dressed in costume for the animals—not for the amusement of clients or coworkers.

She cleared her throat, hoping it erased her ridiculousness .

“Oh, how lovely,” the woman said. She sorted through an endless treasure trove in her purse before producing a tiny brush, then swiped at the wispy grays of her hair, her hand following to pat them in place.

Seemingly unconcerned about Charlie’s penchant for Halloween or the wealth of thoughts performing a mosh pit in her brain.

“You...been here awhile?” Charlie asked, then immediately cringed.

What was fair game to ask strangers in a hospital waiting room that didn’t hit a nerve?

Or, apparently, sound like a bad pickup line?

Better question, why did she feel obligated to converse?

Couldn’t they just sit in awkward silence?

If Nana were here, Charlie wouldn’t have to ask herself these questions, what with Nana’s constant chatter.

“Waiting for my honey to get off his shift. Should be along any moment now.” She applied her lipstick, compact mirror in hand, blotting tissue ready to absorb excess red paint. The woman had to be early seventies, and she rocked the bold shade like it was made for her.

Charlie had never been able to pull off red lipstick—it always seemed too jarring against her own fair, rosy skin. Though, they did have similar skin tones...

The woman smoothed a hand down the front of her striped blouse, then unbuttoned another button, expertly positioning the shirt against her collarbone with practiced, red-tipped fingers that matched her lips.

“Here for family?” she asked, looking up with a soft smile. She radiated happiness, a demure look emphasized by her confidence.

Charlie wanted to be her when she grew up.

“My boss.” She hesitated, her brow furrowing at the impersonal title. “I’ve worked with him for almost ten years. He had a heart attack.”

The woman tittered. “My husband survived two of his own. The damn cancer got him. ”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

The woman shrugged. “Life is shit at times.” She looked beyond Charlie. “And then it’s great again.” A smile lit up her face that, for a fleeting moment, suggested love or romance could arrive at any point in life.

A man with styled white hair wearing dark blue scrubs stood at the entrance to the narrow room. “Ready?” he said.

The woman stood and gave Charlie a pat on the shoulder as she walked to the hallway.

“My best to your boss, dear. Hang in there. Oh!” She stepped back into the tiny room and whispered, “This gentleman coming down the hall isn’t the young hot doc I mentioned, but he’s certainly a looker.

Ah, if men are your preference, that is,” she added with a smile.

Then she was gone, the fragrance of roses lingering.

Charlie didn’t have to wait long for the reveal—a man appeared in the hall beyond the waiting area and stopped in her line of sight, staring ahead at the double doors.

His black hair was short, the wavy length on top mussed as he gripped it.

A charcoal bomber jacket cloaked broad shoulders, his posture long and lean.

He wore dark blue jeans that hugged thick thighs, and even a quick glance revealed a solid ass.

In fact, it deserved a second look. He had his father’s frame.

Taller, sure— wait , hold up . Not the ass part . Or the “ thick thighs ,” Charlotte!

There was no mistaking that the man in front of her was Zachary Lee.

That old, familiar flutter plucked at her organs, threatening a tango of nausea and giddiness.

He turned his profile her way, hands on hips as he stared at his feet.

His tawny skin tone was the same as Daniel’s, but the rest was so Zachary .

His profile sent her heart—no, her heart beat— into overdrive, that jawline one of his most powerful features.

With the help of a grin she remembered so well, he was captivating.

Not that he was smiling now.

Head down, he walked into the waiting area, seemingly unaware of her.

The smell of fresh rain on fabric enhanced a warm, earthy scent emanating from him, bursting through the dwindling floral air.

He moved past her to the far corner of the room and folded his six-foot self into a chair, sinking with a look of despair.

Charlie faced forward, knee bouncing as she stared at the painting. If only Mary Poppins could help her hop into that framed meadow. Maybe she hadn’t given it enough credit—she’d prefer frolicking freely through monochromatic fields over this anxiety-ridden, hormone-addled swirl of emotions.

This was silly—they knew each other. She should say something.

Acknowledging him made perfect sense. Perhaps he didn’t recognize her, and when she said hello, he’d swoop her into one of his tight, all-consuming hugs, and they could sigh in companionable relief.

She’d been on the receiving end of his embrace only once, but it was one she’d never forget.

She dared a glance out of the corner of her eye.

He leaned forward, forearms propped on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees.

Eyes drilling holes into the tan tile floor.

It was more than despair. He looked… angry.

Not that Charlie could fault him. Unfortunately, it was a look she remembered all too well, their last encounter imprinted on her mind.

Dread kicked every other feeling out of the way as she realized she was probably the last person he wanted comforting him. Though she still didn’t know why.

“Stop staring at me, Harris. ”

Charlie’s eyes bolted forward, her breath frozen, as his deep voice skated over her arms and smacked her in the chest.

She was right. That tone was definitely full of anger. Toward her .