Page 14

A ir whooshed in and out of Clara’s chest as her feet hit the asphalt.

Still not easier. Not even a little bit. Her body felt heavy, her legs begging her to stop or cave.

She glanced beside her to see Scarlett and Malcolm holding a conversation and not even breaking a sweat. Heck, even Deb, who was a good thirty years older than her, seemed to barely be pushing herself.

Helen didn’t look great. But it didn’t seem like a physical thing. She just seemed…off. She’d seemed off since the bar. Was the attack still affecting her?

Clara snuck a peek at Holden behind her. Same as always, he looked straight at her, like he could feel her eyes on him. Her skin tingled and she faced front again.

She shouldn’t have told him she was a virgin on Sunday. What had she expected? For him to admit his undying love, take her into his arms and sweep her off to a bedroom in her mother’s house?

Ha. That didn’t happen.

Although, she was sure he’d been about to kiss her in that pantry. If her mother hadn’t opened the door, she was almost certain he would have.

Her hand twitched to run a finger over her lips, as if she could feel his kiss right there.

She stumbled, and Malcolm grabbed her arm. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just distracted.” Her words were as choppy as her short breaths, while Malcolm’s voice was completely even.

One side of his mouth lifted. “We’re almost at the diner.”

Yes, because today they were having coffee at the diner after the run.

Argh. The drinks at the diner sucked. She would have chosen The Tea House, but Briar had organized it, so Clara would be getting a big cup of ice with soda water. Maybe two.

“Hey, are things still okay at the hospital?”

There was a small flaring of his eyes. “Of course. I’m focusing on the new sepsis treatment protocol. I’m doing a couple of speaking gigs later this week.”

“Good. That’s great.”

It really was. The last thing the small town of Amber Ridge needed was for the safety of the only hospital to be brought into question.

She shot a glance at Scarlett from beneath her lashes.

Clara needed to talk to her. She’d been piecing things together since her behavior in the kitchen, about what Helen had said about the hospital.

First there’d been the article about Lauren Tabs.

Then Scarlett’s obsession with everyone who worked at the hospital, paired with her basically lying to Malcolm about what she did for a living.

She was researching the woman who’d died…maybe even linking that incident with anyone getting sick while in the hospital’s care.

Clara swallowed the lump in her throat.

Maybe she was an undercover agent. That would explain the fake ID. Maybe Scarlett wasn’t even her real name.

An uncomfortable pit formed in her belly. Yes, undercover agents were important to reveal horrible stuff that happened all over the country, but the idea that Clara didn’t know who she was really living with didn’t feel great.

When they finally reached the diner, Clara found a stool and dropped her head to the counter, trying to catch her breath. Not the most graceful and the cool counter might leave a mark on her cheek, but she had zero cares. She was tired.

The stool beside her moved, and for a moment she thought it might be Holden. It wasn’t. Scarlett sat there, looking at the menu. Clara snuck a peek behind her to see Holden at a table beside Briar.

A vein throbbed in her temple. They were together a lot at these runs, not to mention they had to be spending a bit of time on the kitchen renovation.

Could there be more there than a friendship? Her stomach rolled, and she looked away from them.

“Jesus, there’s only one person serving.” Scarlett scowled, shaking her head. “Should have gone to The Tea House.”

So it wasn’t just her.

Clara glanced around. No one was in listening distance. Good. She shuffled her stool closer. “Scarlett. We need to talk.”

“Shoot.” Scarlett lifted her phone, not even giving Clara eye contact.

“Can we go somewhere else?”

“I’m a little busy. My editor needs an answer on something, and I can’t leave her hanging.”

Fine. If she wanted to do it here, they’d do it here. “Are you investigating the woman who died and linking it to the recent heart failures and respiratory depressions at the hospital? Are you trying to put the hospital at fault?”

Scarlett’s head flashed up, shock widening her eyes. “What?”

“That’s why you joined this group, isn’t it? To get close to everyone who works there.”

Scarlett leaned in close to Clara and hissed, “First of all, what I do is none of your business. Second, if you tell anyone your little theory, you’ll regret it.” Then she got up and stormed off.

She’d regret it? Was that a threat? Was that even allowed in the world of journalism?

At the feel of eyes on her, she looked at Holden’s table to see him staring straight at her, questions and concern in his gaze.

The stool beside her scraped once again as Malcolm sat down. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

Should she tell him? If she did, what would Scarlett do?

She opened her mouth, not sure what words were about to come out, when she noticed Helen down at the other end of the counter, drinking a coffee alone. “Is Helen okay? She hasn’t seemed herself since that night at the bar.”

He glanced at Helen, then back to her. “You don’t need to worry about Helen.”

“I do worry about her. I worry about you too, and everyone else. I know stuff’s going on at the hospital. Patients are getting sick. It has to be weighing on you.”

He blanched before grabbing her wrist and leading her to the hall beside the counter.

“Malcolm, what are you—”

He turned. “Did Helen tell you that?”

“Um…maybe. Why?”

“You can’t talk about it in public.”

“But if it’s okay now, why does it matter?”

“Because we’re all trying to leave it in the past. It’s over . Helen’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s okay.”

“You don’t pull someone into a hall to tell them to stop talking about something if everything’s okay.”

His lips thinned, and little lines formed beside his eyes. It was the first time she’d seen him visibly frustrated. “Clara—”

“Everything okay here?”

Clara looked up to see a very annoyed-looking Holden.

Holden fisted his hands, trying like hell to remain exactly where he was and not break up whatever little chat Clara and Malcolm were having. It was none of his business, so he shouldn’t care how close they sat or how intimate their conversation looked.

Briar had sat next to him and was talking about some doctor at work and something the guy had done to piss her off. Holden could barely pay attention.

Suddenly, Malcolm grabbed Clara and dragged her into the hall.

Fuck no.

Holden shot to his feet and crossed the diner, weaving through the customers and ignoring Briar calling him from behind.

He stepped into the hall to see Malcolm’s fingers still closed around Clara’s wrist, and his face too damn close to hers.

“Clara—”

“Everything okay here?” Holden asked, interrupting Malcolm and putting every ounce of effort into using his words, rather than his hands like he wanted to.

Malcolm stepped back, eyes wide, as if Holden had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Clara frowned. “We were just talking. You don’t need—”

“It’s okay,” Malcolm said quickly. “I should get back to the group.”

The doctor slipped around Holden, but he barely spared him a glance, his entire attention on Clara. “Him?”

The frown on Clara’s face deepened. “Him what?”

“You’re gonna have sex with him ?”

Her chest rose on a sharp inhale. “Shh.” She pushed Holden deeper into the hall before whispering, “First of all, that’s rude. There’s nothing wrong with Malcolm. Second, it wouldn’t be your business if he and I did decide to sleep together.”

She started to slip past him, but he gripped her wrist and stopped her. “You made it my business by starting this conversation.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry about that. You’ve made your feelings for me perfectly clear. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She swallowed and stepped back. “I respect the fact that you see me as a sister, so you need to respect the fact that I can talk to whoever I want, whenever I want.”

He could have laughed. Hell, he almost did. “You think I see you as a sister?”

“Of course. You call me family. Other than looking out for me at running club and protecting me from scary doctors, you don’t seem to want anything more to do with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I don’t want you dating him.”

She stopped, frustration all over her face. And something else. Disbelief?

Not a surprise. He had no fucking right to dictate who she dated, and they both knew that.

“Excuse me?” she whispered.

He said it again, slower this time as he inched closer. “I don’t want you dating him.”

“You’re unbelievable. You know that?”

“Clara—”

“No. Don’t Clara me. I put myself out there for you—more than once.

I took risks and allowed my heart to be trampled on.

You’ve turned me down, and yet you stand there and tell me that you don’t want me to date someone?

And not just anyone. A great guy. A great doctor . A man who’s kind and friendly and—”

“He’s not for you.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me who is and isn’t for me?”

“I know you.”

“No. You don’t. You know parts of me. But not that part.”

“I know you.”

She stepped closer. “Don’t ever tell me who I can and can’t date again.” She stepped away, only to stop and face him once more. “You know, I think a part of me has been waiting for you since the day we met, thinking that it was supposed to be us. But I’m done waiting.”

She turned again but for the second time, he gripped her arm and tugged her back—and this time he kissed her.

And there was no hesitation in this kiss. He dove straight into her mouth and tasted her. Drank her in.

She groaned, and the sound was becoming so achingly familiar that it felt like it was his. Like the sound of her passion was designed for him. For them .

He turned her and pressed her to the wall, caging her in. Needing her to feel exactly how much of a lie he’d been spinning all these years.

Clara couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Holden was everywhere. Locking her to the wall. Touching her. Tasting her.

Every time he kissed her, it just cemented the fact that he was supposed to be hers and she was supposed to be his. It made the risk of waiting for him feel worth it.

She ran her hands down his chest, as though she needed to feel and memorize his body. To know him as well as she knew herself.

His tongue swiped against hers, making a shudder roll down her spine. And those strong hands of his enclosed around her waist, his fingers so long, they almost encircled her.

She leaned her hips into him, groaning when his hardness pressed into her.

This was it…this was what she’d been waiting for. She’d kissed men before but nothing like this. Nothing that even touched this.

She slipped a leg around his waist and nudged him closer. Immediately, his palm went to her thigh, holding her there, before sliding up and cupping her ass.

She was seconds from losing the thin hold she still had on her sanity when her phone rang, its tone loud in the otherwise quiet hall.

Suddenly, he stepped back, his finger slipping into his hair and a pained expression crossing over his face.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Clara.”

She frowned, ignoring her phone, focusing on Holden. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“You wanted to kiss me. You wanted me . I could feel it.”

When he just stood there, holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, she stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Holden. It’s okay to want me. It’s okay for us to embrace this.”

The pain shifted into something else. Panic? It looked so out of place on such a strong, powerful man.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

She frowned, hurt cutting into her belly. But she didn’t stop him. She watched him walk away. Because she couldn’t keep fighting if he wasn’t going to fight too.