The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

“We’re not the same people anymore,” I said.

He scoffed. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah? If my grandmother had passed away last year, you would have gone with me to the funeral.”

His posture went defensive. “I had to work. I told you.”

“It’s not just that. Before, you would have been there for me. But now you aren’t.” I got angry and hurt all over again at the memory. “We’ve barely seen each other this summer. I’m not your girlfriend. I’m an afterthought.”

Preston’s gaze hardened, and something like embarrassment colored his expression. He didn’t turn or look away from me, but it was clear from his raised voice his question was directed at his father. “Is there some reason you’re still here?”

Tension in the room bound me in place. It was uncomfortable for everyone, and worse when Preston pointed it out.

Greg straightened. “Don’t take that tone with me. This is my house.”

Annoyance flashed in his son’s eyes. “Let’s go downstairs and talk about this.”

“No,” I snapped, grabbing the hoodie and strangling it in my hands. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over, and I’m going. Goodbye, Preston.” The fire in me waned a little as I turned to his father. “Thanks—” I nearly said his first name, but caught it just in time, “Dr. Lowe.”

He looked torn about letting me go but nodded in acknowledgement.

I only made it a few steps toward the door before Preston was following me. “That’s it?” He was hurting but masked it with anger. “You’re gonna throw three years away because I couldn’t go to one funeral with you? That’s stupid.”

Hot, angry tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t stop moving. I needed to get out of this house and away from him before I said something I’d regret. He’d only heard what he wanted to, which meant he could shift the blame away from himself. Fine. As long as he was crystal clear we were done, he could think whatever he wanted.

“You know what?” he yelled at me as I fled out the front door. “Fuck you, Cassidy.”

“Preston,” I heard Greg snarl, but didn’t look back at either one of them. I ran so fast down the pathway, one of my flip-flops caught an edge of brick and I nearly fell but managed to stay on my feet. I scrambled into my car, started it, and took off, needing to get down the road before the tears started streaming down my face.

My phone chimed with a text message as I raced home, but I didn’t read it. I came in through the kitchen and went immediately up after waving hello to my mom. She was chatting on her phone, but waved back. I moved so rapidly, it didn’t give her a chance to notice I’d been crying.

Tripod, our rescue black Labrador, bounded up the stairs beside me. You’d never guess from the way he moved, he was missing a leg. My mom may not have noticed my mood, but there was no getting it past my eagle-eyed dog.

Once I was upstairs in my room, sitting on the floor with my back against the bed, I drew my knees up to my chest and scanned my phone screen. Tripod sat beside me, nosing his way into my free hand as I tried to read.

Dr. Lowe: Are you okay?

I pulled my arms into my hoodie, shrugging it on as I wiped the dried tear tracks from my face with a sleeve, and thumbed out my response.

Cassidy: Yeah.

Three dots blinked across the screen, then disappeared. Like me, it seemed as if he wasn’t sure what else to say.

Cassidy: How is he?

Dr. Lowe: Upset. I tried to talk to him, but he took off.

Alarm coasted through my system. Preston had stormed off? Before I could ask, more dots blinked on the screen.

Dr. Lowe: He’s staying at Troy’s tonight. Maybe he’ll figure out he was an asshole and apologize to you.

That’d be nice, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

Cassidy: How are you? I’m sorry you had to watch that.

Dr. Lowe: Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.

I tipped my head back against the bed and closed my eyes, trying to clear my thoughts. What would have happened if Preston had come home five minutes later? He’d have caught me and Greg together. I pictured us with our pants down around our ankles, Greg fucking me from behind while he had me bent over the side of the couch.

The image gave me warm shivers.

Jesus, what was wrong with me? Preston was hurting, and all I could think about was his dad and how I wished we hadn’t had to stop. I wanted desperately to hear all of Greg’s dirty fantasies and see how many of them matched mine.

My phone chimed again, causing my eyes to pop open.

Dr. Lowe: Do you want to talk about it?