“Out loud, please,” I say, hating to be left out of the conversation while in the same room.
Dad opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again as if uncertain. Mom gives him a little nod of encouragement. “Do you have John’s number?” he asks.
“I do,” grateful that he had given it to me between classes but apprehensive to use it.
“Well, we have two courses of action. We can wait and see what they have in store for us, or we can have him over and see what the three of us combined can come up with. Besides, if he has been around you this much, he might need his first round of country medicine.” I hate being a nuclear power plant, I put everyone around me in danger every minute.
Chapter 7
Leaning back into the luxurious leather seat, Dr. Cox glances at the picture on his phone for the fourth time since it arrived. It is a blurry shot of Painted Rock’s own small town doctor, Dr. Jackson Mills. Because of the quality of the picture and the seventeen years that have passed, he can’t be sure but the resemblance to Trevor Madison is enough to make his heart race again.
As his private jet taxis to a halt in Omaha Airport’s executive section, he can barely keep his seat. No word has come about the girl yet, but it is almost a formality now. Before this night is over he will have the one piece of his master plan that has eluded him.
He presses the speed dial trying to make contact with the Sullivan boy. Using him might have been a mistake, but after years of chasing false leads…it is done. No going back now. He can be disposed of as easily as his father. The sooner the better.
Chapter 8
My parents want me to call from the office so they can monitor the conversation, but I know I am going to be awkward enough having to talk to him after the scene I made in the school parking lot. I head to my room and lie down on my bed for a couple of minutes. I breathe deeply and try to calm myself. As I do, my hands go from hot enough to melt marshmallows to their normal simmer. After a few more seconds, I start to feel the most relaxed I have been since Ashlynn appeared. Have I mentioned I hate her?
F inally mustering up the courage, I dial. It rings three times before he answers, “Hello.” There is so much background noise and conversations, his voice comes through muffled. It sounds like he is somewhere public and I hesitate. This is not at all what I’m expecting.
“Hi, John. It’s me, Paige.” I hope I don’t sound as unsure as I feel.
“Oh, hi. Give me a sec.” He tries to cover the phone and I hear a muffled, “s’cuse me,” before he gets back on.
“What’s going on, Paige?”
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” I begin, feeling more self-conscious by the second.
“Um, no, not really. I’m kind of surprised to hear from you, the way you ran off.” He doesn’t sound accusing so much as hurt and I immediately feel bad for suspecting the worst of him.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was wondering if you still wanted to come over, I mean, if you’re not busy.”
At that moment, I hear him get jostled and a voice , unmistakably Ashlynn Taylor’s, say, “Come on, John. Who are you talking to?”
“You’re with Ashlynn!?” I practically scream before I have time to compose myself.
“Um, well,” he pauses and I assume he is walking away from Ashlynn again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he returns, “You did leave me standing alone in the parking lot and she kind of noticed.”
“I thought you didn’t go for the overly interested ones and let me tell you buddy, Ashlynn is used to getting what she wants. Way to hold your ground.” I realize I should not let this bother me, I need him to come over. Knowing this doesn’t keep me from feeling hurt and betrayed. I feel the tingling in my hands again. Three times in one day, what is this guy doing to me?
“I’m sorry, Paige, I am having a hard time keeping up with the signals you are sending! Not interested,
Dad opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again as if uncertain. Mom gives him a little nod of encouragement. “Do you have John’s number?” he asks.
“I do,” grateful that he had given it to me between classes but apprehensive to use it.
“Well, we have two courses of action. We can wait and see what they have in store for us, or we can have him over and see what the three of us combined can come up with. Besides, if he has been around you this much, he might need his first round of country medicine.” I hate being a nuclear power plant, I put everyone around me in danger every minute.
Chapter 7
Leaning back into the luxurious leather seat, Dr. Cox glances at the picture on his phone for the fourth time since it arrived. It is a blurry shot of Painted Rock’s own small town doctor, Dr. Jackson Mills. Because of the quality of the picture and the seventeen years that have passed, he can’t be sure but the resemblance to Trevor Madison is enough to make his heart race again.
As his private jet taxis to a halt in Omaha Airport’s executive section, he can barely keep his seat. No word has come about the girl yet, but it is almost a formality now. Before this night is over he will have the one piece of his master plan that has eluded him.
He presses the speed dial trying to make contact with the Sullivan boy. Using him might have been a mistake, but after years of chasing false leads…it is done. No going back now. He can be disposed of as easily as his father. The sooner the better.
Chapter 8
My parents want me to call from the office so they can monitor the conversation, but I know I am going to be awkward enough having to talk to him after the scene I made in the school parking lot. I head to my room and lie down on my bed for a couple of minutes. I breathe deeply and try to calm myself. As I do, my hands go from hot enough to melt marshmallows to their normal simmer. After a few more seconds, I start to feel the most relaxed I have been since Ashlynn appeared. Have I mentioned I hate her?
F inally mustering up the courage, I dial. It rings three times before he answers, “Hello.” There is so much background noise and conversations, his voice comes through muffled. It sounds like he is somewhere public and I hesitate. This is not at all what I’m expecting.
“Hi, John. It’s me, Paige.” I hope I don’t sound as unsure as I feel.
“Oh, hi. Give me a sec.” He tries to cover the phone and I hear a muffled, “s’cuse me,” before he gets back on.
“What’s going on, Paige?”
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” I begin, feeling more self-conscious by the second.
“Um, no, not really. I’m kind of surprised to hear from you, the way you ran off.” He doesn’t sound accusing so much as hurt and I immediately feel bad for suspecting the worst of him.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was wondering if you still wanted to come over, I mean, if you’re not busy.”
At that moment, I hear him get jostled and a voice , unmistakably Ashlynn Taylor’s, say, “Come on, John. Who are you talking to?”
“You’re with Ashlynn!?” I practically scream before I have time to compose myself.
“Um, well,” he pauses and I assume he is walking away from Ashlynn again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he returns, “You did leave me standing alone in the parking lot and she kind of noticed.”
“I thought you didn’t go for the overly interested ones and let me tell you buddy, Ashlynn is used to getting what she wants. Way to hold your ground.” I realize I should not let this bother me, I need him to come over. Knowing this doesn’t keep me from feeling hurt and betrayed. I feel the tingling in my hands again. Three times in one day, what is this guy doing to me?
“I’m sorry, Paige, I am having a hard time keeping up with the signals you are sending! Not interested,
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