Page 8 of I’m Not Yours

“The air smells better when you’re on a bike.”

I tried not to stare at him, but he was all man.

Huggable shoulders, lean but not skinny, rangy and muscled.

It was almost surreal that he was here. Before all of the other stuff happened, we never would have sat apart on a couch.

We would have been together, close, soon naked.

Loving and laughing. We would have been threading our fingers together.

Kissing all the time, a roll here and there, Jace’s muscular arms picking me up and putting me exactly where he wanted.

I felt old all of a sudden. Old, as if joy had passed me by, love had passed me by, chance and luck had passed me by.

“So, this is your dad’s place.”

“Yes. I recently cleared out a houseful of junk.”

“What are your plans for the house, then?”

“I’ll sell it. But currently I have no job.

I had a condo in the city, but my agent listed it, we had a cash offer, and everything went really fast. I sold the furniture to the new owners and packed up.

” I hadn’t liked the furniture. It was cold, modern, and hard edged.

I think I used it to hide behind, too, as I did with my fancy-schmancy clothes.

The better the furniture, the farther I would be from our trailer.

“I thought I would come here until I get my life figured out, and get a new job. Plus, there are animals all over that I have apparently inherited. Two dogs, as you can see”—Bob and Margaret were at our feet, snoring—“two cats, two horses, and a rooster that is stubborn and fearless.”

“It’s beautiful out here.”

“It is. It’s serenity and peace, all mixed up between the hills and mountains. I even have a little stream out back that runs behind my apple orchard. I can hear birds. I can hear the horses neigh. I can hear the wind and the raindrops. I can hear silence.”

“It rests my brain.”

I laughed. “Yes, it rests my brain, too. You moved from New York, then?” I knew he had.

“Yes.”

“How do you like living here in Oregon?”

“I love it.”

“Are you planning on staying?”

“Yes.”

I nodded my head. “Have you found a place to live?”

“Yes.”

“A house?”

“Yes, on land in the country. No red barn, though, like yours.”

“That’s great, it really is. You always wanted to live in the country.” He had talked about it at length. He wanted to get married, have kids, be a doctor, and live in the country. He had never wavered.

I wanted an education and a pile of money in savings so I would never again have to worry about whether or not I had enough cash and a big-enough coupon to buy macaroni and cheese.

I wanted to become someone who didn’t have to fake being courageous and strong.

I wanted to become someone who didn’t come from a scary trailer and had to hide in an apple orchard.

But I had wanted Jace most of all.

“I like having land to walk on.” His fingers, those capable fingers that took care of countless people, in countless critical situations, tapped his coffee cup.

“After I operate during the day, or sew someone up, get someone through a traumatic event, I always thought it would be good to come home to a place in the country where there are sunrises and sunsets you can see, uninterrupted land in every direction, nature, animals, and a close-up view of the seasons.”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? Here we are, in the country, years after we first met, sitting in a house my dad owned.”

“I like this.” He smiled.

“You like it?” I chuckled.

“I do. I like that we’ve met up again, Allie.”

I did, too. Even though nothing would, or could, come of it.

“It’s odd that we’re talking like we’ve been together .

. .” I stopped and choked back those years and tears.

“I mean, not that we’re together, together as in a couple”— oh, be quiet— “I mean, we’re talking as we’ve always talked, and that’s . . . surprising.”

He leaned forward, so close, too close, his elbows on his knees, and my breath caught. “It’s always been like this between us. Why would it be different now?”

“Because—” I pulled back my hair, my hands jittery. “Because we’re not who we used to be. We’re not us.”

“We are us. We’re different people than who we were. But that doesn’t mean that our basic personalities have changed. You’ve recently been kicked by a menopausal horse and you fall through ladders, and I deal with a lot of blood and guts, but it’s still us.”

He smiled, a relaxed smile, his face so lovable to me, so familiar and yet different.

The years had made him even more appealing, and I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss him that first day in the hospital, and I still did, preferably with my heels hooked around his back . . .

“I’m still Jace, you’re still Allie.”

“Yes, you’re the Jace who can talk a young man who is high on something into getting care and help, who can handle any emergency, and look good doing it.” I blushed. I had not meant to let that last part pop out.

He grinned. “Well, being handsome is the most important thing when I’ve got my hands in someone’s chest cavity. I’m sure it’s most important to the patient, too. Whenever someone’s been in an accident, the first thing they yell is, ‘Get me the best-looking doctor you can.’ ”

Jace had always had a wicked sense of humor. Tough face, and then he’d crack a joke. “I’m sure your handsomeness is what you think of every minute when you’re sticking a tube down someone’s throat.”

“Oh yes,” he said, his voice deep. “My rampant beauty. Is my hair brushed? What about my shirt? Is it ironed perfectly?”

We laughed together. Jace was the least vain person I’d ever met. He’d shower, dry his black hair with a towel, and he was done. We talked and chatted, drank more coffee. I pushed out all of the trepidation I had felt about seeing him, and I enjoyed him, every single minute of it.

“One more thing, Allie.”

“Oh no. What is it? You have a harem. You’ve grown a tail. You’re moving to Swaziland to learn a new language.”

“No harem. One woman is perfect for me. I don’t think I have a tail.

No move to Swaziland.” He smiled again, and I could not look away from him.

We sat where we were, everything else gone, the old house receding, the bad memories, my rage at my dad .

. . and I tried to restrain myself from jumping on him.

“I told you that I bought a place.”

“Oh yes.” I shook my head and tried to cool my lusty thoughts. “Where did you buy your home?”

“I bought thirty acres and a house.”

“Wow.” I smiled. “Congratulations. That’s incredible. Good for you. You have what you’ve always wanted, then. Did it come with cats, dogs, horses, and an obnoxious rooster? Would you like my dogs, cats, and horses? Please take the rooster. I beg you.”

“I’ll take them. My house didn’t come with any animals. There’s a bridge over a stream, the house has a hot tub, and there’s also part of an apple orchard on it, just like here.”

“Maybe you can teach me about apple trees, then.”

“I’ll learn and let you know.”

“Where is it?”

He clasped his hands together, his gaze not wavering.

“Allie, I knew you were in Portland when I applied for the job here, then moved from New York. It was why I wanted to be here. I wanted to see you again. I was going to call you, but I’ve only been here a few weeks, and I wanted to move into my house and get settled before I did.

I wanted to show you what kind of life I had, but honestly, I didn’t know that you were here in Schollton. ”

“How could you? My dad only recently died. The property is in his name. He only bought it five years ago.” And why was it an issue?

“I didn’t research the property owners around me before I bought my land, I promise you that.”

“Of course you didn’t. Who does that? But what are you talking about?” My hands started to get cold.

“I looked around for quite a while, but then when I saw what it looked like out here, when I found the house, it was perfect, and I bought it.”

“Jace, where is your place?” My knees started to shake. “Look out those windows.”

I looked out my front windows.

“Do you see that house on the hill?”

I nodded. The Craftsman-style home with the decks. Gorgeous architecture.

“That’s mine.”