Page 7 of Their Stormy Reunion

I looked up at him again, trying to think negative thoughts. The jerk had been outside the house like some kind of stalker. How in the hell did he know I was home?

“A friend’s mother came here. They really helped her.” Michael said. He kept his voice low, even though the only other people in there were involved in their own deep conversation.

“Huh?”

“I just wanted to let you know that this is a really good facility.”

Okay. Good. This is good. I can concentrate on this.

As soon as Mom had told me we were coming to the Cancer Institute at Knoxville’s UT Medical Center, I’d done a hell of a lot of online research. Michael was right. It was top-notch. I’d also done a deep dive on Dad’s oncologist. Dr. Patel had received her degree in medicine from the University of Michigan. I had no idea if it mattered, but the school did a lot of research in oncology, hopefully it rubbed off.

“Fallon?”

“Yeah, I read up on this place. You’re right, this place is great,” I agreed. “So’s his oncologist.”

Michael dipped his chin and stared at me.

“Are you doing okay?”

Shit, he had that concerned look on his face. That pretty face. I looked back down at my tablet. Seriously, who was he to have that look of concern?

Remember, he’s a cheat.

Why in the hell was he pretending to be concerned?

“Why are you even here?” I gritted out the question.

Michael dropped his leg, planted both feet on the floor, and leaned forward. “I was outside your house because I just hoped to get a glimpse of you, that was all.”

“Why? That doesn’t make any kind of sense.” I could hear my Southern accent getting thicker. It always did when I was stressed or angry.

“How can you say that? Of course it makes sense. For the longest time you were the most important person in my world. I had to see you.”

Somehow, I kept my jaw from dropping to the floor. I have no idea how, but I managed it. I looked around and that couple was still engrossed in their conversation. I took a deep breath. “Michael, I agree, we did mean something to one another. You chose to destroy that. That was your choice. Once we get Mom and Dad back to the house, stay away. If you see me walking down the street, cross to the other side. If you come in and see me in a restaurant, turn around and leave. Am I being clear enough?”

Michael rocked back in the uncomfortable chair and stared at me. He finally spoke. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack.”

He rubbed his knuckles against his chin. The look he gave me was considering, not chastened.

Dammit!

“I’m serious,” I growled, trying to figure out another way I could make my point.

“Okay. You’re serious.”

“Michael. You killed us dead. I never intended to come back, but I had to. The decent thing for you to do is to stay away.”

“I heard what you said.”

Gah! I hated when he said that. That meant he wasn’t agreeing with me. This was his doublespeak for ‘I’ll do whatever the hell I want.’

“Michael, you owe me this.” God, was I whining?

“It’s been nine years, Sunshine.”

“Don’t call me that!”