LITMIR.BIZ

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at the confusion splashed across Luke’s boyish features. She felt bad for him. Really. But she was doing him a favor.

      He needed someone who could really commit to helping him return to active duty. He might never return to the SEAL teams, but his service as a navy medic didn’t have to be over. He deserved a PT who didn’t require an extra arm’s length between them.

      And it had taken her all of five minutes with him to know that she’d have to keep him at least that far away. Farther would be safer. For both of them.

      Besides, her future was a little too uncertain at the moment to take on a long-termer like Luke.

      “So, you’re what? You’re passing me off?” For someone who hadn’t looked very happy to be in her clinic in the first place, he sure sounded bitter at her rejection.

      “It’s best for you to have someone who can give you the time that I just can’t right now.” She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but for some reason it faltered. “If you want your old life back—”

      He snorted. “Is that even possible?”

      She eyed the brace around his knee, wanting desperately to make him promises. But she just couldn’t do it. “Maybe.”

      “And those other physical therapists, are they as good as you are? Are they as likely to get me back out there?” His hand waved toward the beach.

      A rubber band around her stomach went taut at the muted hope lacing every one of his words. Mandy opened her mouth to answer with the socially acceptable, politically correct response, but something about Luke’s situation called for her to be honest. “They’re good. And they can help you.”

      “Right.” He clambered to his feet, his crutches clanging together as he hopped on his good leg, angling toward the hallway and the exit beyond. “Thanks for your time.”

      “Listen, Luke. I’m sorry.”

      He paused but didn’t turn back toward her. “Sorry that I’ll never serve on the teams again? Or that you’re sending me to a second-rate PT?”

      She crossed her arms, tilted her head back and took a cleansing breath, sending up a silent prayer for patience. “The most important person in your recovery is you.”

      She picked up the file his surgeon had sent over and flipped through it. Of course she’d already read it cover to cover—twice. But he didn’t have to know that. For the moment, she just needed something other than his slumped shoulders and haggard features to focus on.

      Beneath the prickly shell and tart words was a man in pain.

      But she couldn’t help him.

      She couldn’t afford to invest in a case like his. In a man like him. Not again.

      When Luke reached the entry to the hallway, Mandy called out to him, “I really am sorry. Please ask Tara for some other names.”

      He didn’t stop or even indicate that he’d heard her.

      Luke was just too much like Gary. Too handsome. Too sharp. Too striking.

      The very memory of Gary, who’d been her patient nearly four years before, sent shivers down her arms.

      She couldn’t think about him. She didn’t want to. And Luke would be a constant reminder.

      Pushing herself up, she marched down the hall and ducked into her office. The tiny room was a lesson in sparseness. The walls were white, save for three framed diplomas over a large wooden desk, which sat opposite two padded chairs. A stack of files in the in-box on the corner of her desk called for her attention, but the enormous bouquet of white roses in the middle of her workspace filled her senses. She pressed her nose into them, inhaling the sweet, clean fragrance. Like a spring rain, they washed away any uncertainty left over from her meeting with Luke.

      She’d done right by him, sending him on his way.

      “Tara, are you out there? Where did these come from?”

      There was no response. Tara must have stepped outside. Digging through the satin-soft petals, Mandy found a card and quickly opened it. Patients often sent thank-you cards but rarely flowers. And who had known that white roses were her favorite?

      Tugging the little green card from its envelope, she took another rich breath.

      I miss you. I miss us. Gary

      Nausea curdled the contents of her stomach, and she doubled over as bile reached the back of her throat. No longer sweet, the roses stank of betrayal and broken hearts and her very worst mistake. With a single sweep of her arm, she sent them flying over the edge of her desk. The glass vase hit the metal trash can with a crack loud enough to reach the parking lot, immediately followed by a shriek and rapid footfalls.

      “Mandy?” Tara called before she even appeared in the doorway. “What happened?”

      Mandy kept her chin tucked into her chest and her arms crossed. With shaking legs, she turned toward Tara. Her breath hitched as she tried to answer the question still hanging over the room, but there were no words to explain the pounding of her heart.

      Tara remained silent for a long moment before finally offering an uneasy chuckle. “Two bouquets in one day. That must be a record.”

      Mandy glanced up, not quite meeting her office manager’s gaze over a small bouquet of orange-and-red lilies that she hadn’t even noticed in Tara’s hand. “An-other?” Her voice quaked, and she quickly cleared her throat, forcing her shoulders back and her head up.

      “From Gwen.” Tara held out the square vase. A tall plastic stem held a simple card, its looped letters easy to read.

      Congratulations on your award! Well done, my friend!

      I’ve got a job for you in Miami whenever you want it.

      Gwen

      “For the philanthropy award.” Mandy spoke as though Tara hadn’t read the card, which she certainly had. “You know. The one for my volunteer work at Pacific Coast House. I don’t know how Gwen heard about it, but it was really sweet of her to send me such pretty flowers, wasn’t it?” Mandy chomped down on her tongue. Why was she rambling as though she had something to hide? She wasn’t a child in trouble. She was a woman capable of making her own decisions.

      Tara nodded and raised an eyebrow, but her expression was otherwise blank. “And Miami? Are you thinking about moving?”

      “No... Yes... Maybe.” She ran a hand over her face and shrugged.

      Tara’s pale eyes turned hard, fearful. She probably thought she was losing her job, and Mandy jumped to clarify.

      “Of course, I won’t leave you out on a limb. I’ll let you know as soon as I decide. It’s just an offer. Gwen’s a good friend from school, and she offers me a job in her clinic every year or so. I wasn’t really considering it until...”

      She couldn’t find the words tonight. But Tara didn’t really need her to rehash it. Her office manager knew about the identity theft, professional aggravations and general harassment Mandy had endured for almost two years. The cops hadn’t been able to find anyone behind the hassles, but someone was out there. Faceless but intent on making her life miserable.

      Maybe what she needed was a fresh start. And that was what Gwen offered.

      She’d be a fool not to at least consider it.

      And Gary’s sudden return to her life—well, that was just another good reason to pack up and try again. In Miami.

      “I promise I’m just thinking about it,” Mandy said. “If I decide to go, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

      The corners of Tara’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Fair enough.” She tipped her head toward the front desk. “I’m going to take off. Need anything else?”

      Mandy shook her head. “Have a good night.”

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