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Chapter Thirty-Eight

JACKSON

I feel like hell when I finally wake up, and my body is even more sore than yesterday. I passed out last night without shutting the drapes, and judging by the brightness in my room, I’d say it’s midday already. I reach for my phone to check the time and confirm it’s already a quarter past noon.

Hell. I missed several calls from Ted, Chad, and even the GM. Was I supposed to do something today? I can’t fucking remember.

No missed calls from Izzie though, or any texts. I frown, staring at my phone, then realize I never called her last night like I planned. Fuck.

I read the texts I did receive from Ted and confirm that I was supposed to attend a charity event at a golf club at eleven. Oh well. I reply to Ted and tell him I have the flu.

His reply is swift.

TED: I’ll let everyone know you’re sick.

Okay.

I’m not really in the mood to call the boss anyway.

TED: I’ll bring you a care package. But I’m not coming in.

I snort. Of course he won’t. Ted’s the biggest germaphobe I know.

I don’t need a care package.

TED: Don’t care. You’re getting one. Now is not the time to be sick.

Okay… MOM.

I’m not surprised when he replies with a middle-finger emoji. Ted is a pain in the ass, but he gets the job done with minimum input from me. I barely need to see him in person.

Now that Ted is working on updating everyone, I call Izzie. I missed her yesterday—and all the other days of the week. It’s crazy how much I’ve come to care for her in such a short time.

The phone rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. I try to leave her a message, but my throat is so sore that I sound like a frog. I’m not sure if she’ll understand a word I said.

Just left you a voice message. In case you can’t tell, I got the flu.

She sees the message, so I expect her to reply right away or call me, but minutes go by and nothing. Shit. That can’t be good. I rack my brain, trying to think if I did something that would make her mad at me, but I can’t think of anything.

Maybe she’s just busy and can’t reply.

I force myself out of bed to grab a bottle of Gatorade. One thing I do know is that I need to hydrate. Everything hurts when I walk. I can’t remember the last time I got this sick. Ted is right, this isn’t the time to have the flu. Maybe his care package will help.

I grab a Gatorade and some blackberries from the fridge, then trudge back to my bedroom. My eyes immediately focus on my phone and the lack of a reply from Izzie. Hell. When did I become such a love-sick idiot for Izzie Bennet?

* * *

IZZIE

I’m on my way to the clinic near my parents’ ranch when Jackson calls me. I let it go to voicemail. He leaves a message, but I can’t bring myself to listen to it. I doubt he knows I stopped by last night and caught Caroline there. A moment later, he texts me, and I do read that message, because I’m too curious for my own good.

He’s sick. Ha! Karma. Although that’s not punishment enough.

Caroline’s smug expression is at the forefront of my mind. I get angry all over again, not only because Jackson was with her, but also because I shed tears over it. In fact, I cried myself to sleep. This morning, my eyes were puffy, and I had to lie to my parents and say it was allergies.

My chest is heavy, but once I arrive at the clinic, I feel better. From now until the end of my residency, I’ll work at only this location. I usually spend a few minutes socializing with whoever’s on the same shift as me, but today, I can’t deal with small talk.

I’m working with Dr. Fuentes today. We have a few calls planned this afternoon, and I’m glad that we’re busy. Besides, Dr. Fuentes is a hoot, and God knows I need some happy in my life right now. This heartache is new to me, and I don’t know how long it’ll make me feel like all the joy got sucked out of the world.

Our first visit is to check on a foal, which reminds me of my first solo foaling at Jackson’s ranch. The memory pinches my heart, and it takes a Herculean effort to focus on the moment and forget about that jerkface.

The first stop takes about an hour. I’m loading the equine vet truck when Dr. Fuentes receives an emergency call. I glance at her, and even though I can’t hear what she’s been told, I know it’s serious. Our gazes collide, and there’s empathy in her eyes that seems to be aimed at me. My stomach coils tightly.

“We’re on our way,” she says.

“What happened? Where’s the emergency?”

“At your parents’ ranch, honey. There’s been accident with Cicero.”

“No.” I cover my mouth with both hands while my heart becomes even smaller.

“I don’t have all the details, but he fell and snapped the bone on his front leg.”

I hug myself, feeling ill. Cicero was already nearing the end of his natural life, and with a broken leg, I see only one outcome: euthanasia.

“Who was riding him?” I ask, all choked up.

“I believe your sister Lydia.”

I veer for the passenger side of the truck to get my phone. There’s a missed call from my mother and another from Lydia. I call Mom back immediately. It rings and rings, until it goes to voicemail.

“Did you finish loading up?” Dr. Fuentes asks.

I nod, completely numb.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Who called you? My father?”

“No, one of your neighbors.”

If a neighbor called Dr. Fuentes, it means my father isn’t in the right state of mind to handle anything. In the truck, I call Lydia and, mercifully, she answers.

“Oh, Izzie, thank God it’s you,” she says tearfully.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I fell off Cicero but didn’t get hurt much. Just a couple bruises. Poor Cicero, though. He’s in so much pain.”

“Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“With Cicero in the field. Dad is beside himself. He’s gonna hate me forever.”

“He’s not going to hate you.”

“Yes, he is! It’s all my fault. I took Cicero off the path, and his leg went through a hole I didn’t see.”

“Dr. Fuentes and I will be there in ten minutes.”

“Okay. I called Jane too.”

Shit. I really wish she hadn’t. Jane needs to rest. But I can’t chide Lydia for calling her big sister. “Are you home?”

“Yes. Please hurry.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

I turn to Dr. Fuentes and notice her clenched jaw. “It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

She glances at me. “Probably. You should prepare yourself.”

Tears well in my eyes. “I’m prepared,” I lie, then look out the window.

There’s no getting ready to saying goodbye to a member of the family.