LITMIR.BIZ

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he’d sat on as a kid, knowing that after a few minutes in one of them, he’d have trouble walking.

      An inexplicable, eerie sensation prickled at the back of Ryan’s neck as he walked farther into the room. He spun back to look at the open front door. There was nothing there. What the hell…?

      From behind him, he heard soft footsteps come down the hallway leading to the exam rooms. A rustle of papers.

      “Hi, can I help you two?”

      The quiet voice slid through him like a bayonet.

      As if from miles away, he heard his father swear under his breath….

      And then he felt the earth shift beneath his feet.

      CHAPTER TWO

      HER VOICE WAS FIRM, with no hint of the old, familiar flirtatiousness, but those six, simple words had the impact of a round from an M-16.

      Ryan turned slowly, wishing he’d lost this morning’s bet with Trevor, and looked into the eyes of the woman who’d left him fifteen years ago.

      It took him a good five seconds—nearly a lifetime—to find his voice.

      “I…thought you’d moved away from here, Kristin,” he said, dropping his gaze to her white running shoes, snug jeans and white lab coat opened to reveal a Texas A&M T-shirt, before finally meeting her eyes again.

      She acknowledged Clint with a nod, but her attention was on Ryan; her shock apparent when she saw the thin, ragged scar trailing from his temple to the corner of his jaw. “Years ago, I—I heard you were missing.”

      He hitched his good shoulder. “Yeah, well…maybe for a while.”

      “For a while, people even thought you were…”

      “Dead? Not quite.” At her stark expression, he regretted his flippant answer. Apparently even Kristin Cantrell had feelings, somewhere in her cold, dark heart.

      “S-so you’ve moved to the ranch, then?” She paused. “Everything’s okay now?”

      “Fine. But I won’t be here long.” He stared into her light blue eyes, so startling in contrast against her long, dark blond hair and late-summer tan. His gaze unconsciously slid to her bare ring finger before he jerked it back to her eyes.

      She was more beautiful than she’d been at nineteen. Maturity had brought sharper definition to her cheekbones and an elegance that had been just innocent girlishness before. He nearly laughed aloud at that. Innocence. As if.

      Long ago—not that he cared—he’d heard she’d married Ted Peters, a banker’s son they’d both known in college. Not a surprise, really. For her, it had always been about money.

      Old memories, best left forgotten, he thought grimly. None of them mattered anymore.

      She found her voice again before he could, though her face was pale and she seemed to have an overly strong grip on the documents she held. “A woman called to make this appointment for a physical, but with her accent I didn’t catch the name clearly. I—I didn’t realize—” she cleared her throat “—that it was for you.”

      “It’s my father. He needs—”

      “Absolutely nothing from another Cantrell.” Clint leveled a frosty glare at Kristin, then stalked to the door. “I’ll be in the car.”

      An awkward silence lengthened as they both stared after him. Finally, Kristin looked at Ryan, embarrassed, and moved to the reception desk where she ran a finger down a column in the appointment book. “Apparently neither of you knew I was going to be working here. Um…we have other openings, if you think he’d be willing to come back.”

      Ryan frowned, remembering her dreams of becoming a pediatrician. Her vow to never return to Homestead. “You…manage this place?”

      “I’m a physician’s assistant, now. We’re formally opening this satellite clinic on Tuesday, but I’ve seen a few walk-ins early. Dr. Lou—Louisa Hernandez—will just be here on alternate Wednesdays.”

      Clint probably wouldn’t want to see a female physician, either, but it might be worth a try…especially if Trevor or Garrett could be conned into the trip. “Next week, then?”

      “He could see me anytime. We haven’t even started scheduling appointments yet, so the book is open.” She smiled regretfully. “If he prefers the doctor, he’ll have to wait two weeks, or he’ll need to drive clear over to the main clinic in San Antonio.”

      “While I’m home, I need to get him set up locally. It’ll be that much easier for Trevor when…” Ryan hesitated. Clint would resent his sharing personal information if he didn’t end up a patient here. “When Dad gets older. Just give him another appointment on Tuesday morning, and I’ll make sure he gets here.”

      “I know this is difficult for all of us. Tell him that he doesn’t need to worry, I won’t ever refer to the past.” The hint of sadness in her voice was almost believable. “Has he been under the care of another physician?”

      Ryan nodded. “Apparently someone in Austin, but from what Trevor says, Dad has never been good about keeping appointments and taking his medications. He probably needs complete lab work in addition to a checkup.”

      Kristin wrote on an appointment card and held it out. “Nine o’clock.”

      Ryan flinched as he reached for it, the sharp pain in his shoulder reminding him about the empty prescription bottles in the glove box of his truck. Damn. Taking a deep breath, he fought the urge to close his eyes and lean against the wall until the dizziness passed.

      “Are you all right?” Kristin stepped around the desk and hesitated, her hand hovering above his arm.

      He gave the slightest shake of his head, wishing he could back away and get out of there without another word, but well aware that he probably wouldn’t make it to the door.

      “Can I get you something? A glass of water?”

      He didn’t try to disguise his irritation, hating his weakness, his inadequacy. Hating the attention and sympathy it always drew. “Leave…me…alone.”

      She grabbed a chair, settling it behind him and gently took his other arm. “Sit, for God’s sake, unless you want to leave here in an ambulance. If you go over on this hard floor, you’ll end up with a concussion.”

      Pride and stubbornness kept him upright, his anger subsiding as the sensation of vertigo faded. “I’m fine. Really.”

      “Right. And I’m Mary Poppins.” Kristin took a step back and folded her arms across her chest, clearly now in professional mode. “Tell me. What happened to you?”

      He managed what he hoped was a semblance of a smile. “Just a little…altercation.”

      “A little one.” Her voice was filled with disbelief. “How long ago?”

      “Six months. It’s nothing.”

      “Right. And I bet you sleep like a baby, no problems at all. Are you in physical therapy? Do you take anything for pain?”

      “I—” He swallowed a sharp reply, suddenly tired of being defensive. Tired of the whole damned deal that had jerked him out of active service and into a world of surgery and pain, and empty promises from docs who didn’t have the guts to tell him the truth. “I do need some refills. Can a Texas P.A. write prescriptions?” he asked, more roughly than he’d intended.

      “Yes, after you’ve established a relationship with that clinic.”

      Damn. “So I have to wait until I can see the doc?”

      He stifled a sigh. He could get along without most of his medications just fine, but the Skelaxin helped him keep moving during a bad day. And now and then, the Percocet was his only relief when the burning, throbbing pain in his shoulder or knee kept him

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