Page 18 of Before the Bond
“Randomly appearing in the nude at stranger’s houses, yes.” Another sip of coffee.
“Amusing.”
Unlike his explanation about the cottage earlier, I could tell he was at least being partially honest.
“That’s what I can give you,” he said.
“It’s a start.”
“Caleb?” Donovan’s voice came somewhere down the hallway.
Caleb stepped back from the counter. He came around the island toward the doorway, and I was standing close enough to itthat for a moment we were only inches apart. The warmth of him reached me before I processed the proximity.
His hand lifted. “Welcome to the estate, Olivia.”
He left. I stood in the kitchen alone and tried to steady my breathing. I told myself it was the coffee.
Taking care of Jake remained the easiest part of the day.
I spent the bulk of the morning with him — vitals, a longer intake assessment, a review of everything he could tell me about his symptoms from his own perspective rather than the clipped chart notes I’d been given.
He was an excellent patient: chatty, capable of holding still when I needed him to, and always trying his best to lighten the mood.
He made me laugh twice before noon. Once about the estate’s WiFi, which he described as “consistently aspirational.” Once about a houseplant in the corner of his room that he’d named Gerald and was, apparently, in an ongoing dispute with about sunlight.
“I didn’t realize having company could make pain way more manageable,” Jake mused. “Or perhaps you’re secretly a witch that conjures healing spells.”
“I don’t have the patience to carry a cauldron,” I told him. He chuckled.
When Maureen brought his lunch, she insisted I stay. The three of us chatted while enjoying a hearty lunch consisting of grilled salmon, chowder, and light seasonal salad.
All the challenges aside, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.
Later, Maureen excused herself to the kitchen. When her footsteps faded, I noticed the easy warmth in Jake’s expression dim.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“For what?”
He turned his spoon over in his hand, eyes on the table. “About this whole situation. It’s making things harder for you than it should be.”
“You’re my patient,” I said. “You don’t owe me anything.”
He smiled at that. Weaker than his earlier ones.
I decided not to push him about it. Instead, I reached over to refill his water.
“Now,” I said. “What’s this about Donovan and a failing generator?”
That immediately lifted his mood again.
We talked for the rest of lunch. A sliver of levity for both our circumstances.
After wrapping things up with Jake, I made my way down the hallway, and readied to make notes in his chart.
“What choice did I have?”
“Would you rather she wasn’t here?”
