My insecurities always flared up after a confrontation with Rachel.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and silently counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Pity party over. With my black puffer coat over my baby-blue scrub top, I slung my purse over a shoulder and headed for the door.
What I needed was a nice family dinner. Knox and Memphis were waiting for me in the lobby, and a warm meal at their place plus an hour of quality time with my nephew Drake would surely lift my mood.
Instead of taking the hallway that led to the employee exit, I pushed open the door into the lobby. The reception desk was empty. Jenny, the nurse who worked weekdays, had probably left right at five. This entrance was for scheduled appointments and the occasional walk-in. The doors here would be locked soon, and if a patient came in after hours, they’d have to go to the emergency room for help.
Knox and Memphis were standing together in the center of the lobby, talking to a man whose back was to me.
The man was the same tall height as Knox. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Even a hoodie couldn’t hide his muscled frame. And damn, his ass was worth a second look. There weren’t many guys in Quincy with that sort of physique, at least none who weren’t related to me. Who was that guy?
“I’m looking for a doctor who works here,” the man said. “Talia Eden.”
I froze. No. No, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be him. Except I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even if I hadn’t heard it in seven years.
A jolt of panic raced through my body and I flew toward the reception desk, practically leaping behind the counter. My knees cracked against the hard, glossy floor, and I winced, gritting my teeth so I wouldn’t make a sound.
Damn it. What was he doing here? Why was he looking for me?
“You might try the ER,” Memphis said. I’d hug her for it later because I was sure she’d seen me from her periphery when I’d walked into the lobby. “Maybe they can track her down for you. Just head out the doors and down the sidewalk to the other side of the building. You can’t miss it.”
I inched closer to the counter, careful not to brush the chair and make a noise.
“Appreciate it.” Footsteps, then the swish of the double doors as they opened and closed.
Phew. I blew out the breath I’d been holding, but my heart stayed stuck in my throat.
“Coast’s clear,” Knox called.
I inched up, my eyes barely over the counter’s ledge. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah.” Knox nodded. “Want to tell me why you’re hiding from Foster Madden?”
“Nope.” Definitely not. I didn’t talk about Foster Madden for a reason.
I stood and tiptoed around the desk, my eyes glued to the windows in case Foster made a return appearance. But the only thing I saw on the sidewalks was snow. “I should go.”
“What about dinner?” Memphis asked.
“Rain check.”
Before they could stop me, I bolted. Sprinting had never been my forte, slow and steady distance races were more my speed, but there was no way I’d risk bumping into Foster. So I tore out of the lobby, and after one quick check down the sidewalk to make sure he was gone, I hoofed it to my car.
My hands gripped the steering wheel with so much force that my knuckles were white before I’d even pulled out of the darkened parking lot. I checked my rearview mirror no less than two hundred times as I drove through town, searching for headlights that might be following me home. It wasn’t until I was inside the house, sagging against the kitchen counter with a glass of wine, that I let myself breathe.
What was he doing here? His life was in Las Vegas, exactly where I’d left him. Exactly where he’d stayed after breaking my heart. Why was he looking for me now? Why, after all this time, had he come to Montana?
My stomach plummeted. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to hear that voice or look into his stormy blue eyes. Seven years and I still wasn’t ready to face him again. If I managed to avoid him long enough, would he leave?
“No,” I muttered. Unless Foster had undergone an entire personality change, he would eventually track me down. His nickname was the Iron Fist for a reason. He was tenacious and persistent. Unshakeable.
But at least I’d avoided him tonight. He hadn’t been able to take me by surprise. I gulped from my wineglass, then took it with me upstairs to my bedroom, where I stripped out of my scrubs and took a shower to rinse off the day.
My dark hair was wet and twisted into a knot when I returned to the kitchen. My scrubs had been traded for leggings and a ratty University of Washington sweatshirt when I opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. It wasn’t a Knox Eden meal, but for tonight, an omelet would have to suffice. If I’d gone to dinner, Memphis and Knox would have peppered me with questions.
Questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.
Dad knew about Foster, but only because he’d been there in the aftermath. He’d flown to Las Vegas to help me move and seen me at my lowest. Mom knew because Dad didn’t keep secrets from her, but the one and only time she’d brought up his name, I’d begged her never to speak it again.
That had been during the raw days. My wounds had healed, mostly, but that didn’t mean I was ready to relive the pain. It was too hard. Too humiliating.
Why was he here? After all this time, hadn’t he forgotten about me?
The eggs didn’t sit well in my knotted stomach but I forced myself to eat. It would be the same meal I’d have for breakfast, sans the wine. I was just rinsing my plate when the doorbell rang.
The dish brush slipped from my hand, clattering into the sink.
It was him. I couldn’t see the door, but somehow, I knew it was Foster. The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock.
Why hadn’t I dried my hair? Why hadn’t I dressed in anything else? Scrubs would have been better than facing him with a bare face and bare feet. There was a hole in the knee of these leggings and this shirt would have fit my brothers loosely.
If I didn’t answer the door, would he leave? Or would he stay here all night, knowing I was hiding inside? If I ignored him tonight, would he come to the hospital again? The last place I wanted to talk with Foster was at my work.
So I lifted my glass, draining the rest of my wine for liquid courage. The moment I swallowed the last drop, I squared my shoulders and walked through the house.
The sooner this was dealt with, the better. I’d find out why he was here, then send him on his way. With any luck, Foster would be gone from Quincy by morning.
My heart beat so hard it hurt. Every pulse resounded through my limbs. I sucked in a breath and held it as I inched through the entryway, my footsteps silent. When I reached the door, I stood on my toes and pressed an eye to the peephole.
Foster stood in profile, his gaze cast across the covered porch. He’d grown a beard. It was a nice beard. Short trimmed, so you could still make out the sharp corners of his jaw. But my Foster hadn’t had a beard, just stubble on the days when he hadn’t shaved.
A stab of pain pierced my heart. This wasn’t my Foster. There was no version of Foster that belonged to me. Not anymore.
He raised a finger and pushed the doorbell again. Then he ran a hand through his chocolate-brown hair, something he’d obviously been doing a lot tonight because the ends were sticking up at odd angles.