Hard Hit (IceCats 3)

I don’t understand why my mom wants me to be with a doctor. She is hard-core setting me up with her friends’ brothers, sons, cousins, dads—I mean, if he’s a doctor and he’s a black man, I’m on a date with him. I could say no, but guilt eats me alive if I do. I know why she does this. She was there to take care of me when I had breast cancer, but she might not be there if it comes back, and she wants me to be cared for. I get it. I do. But I don’t think I’m meant to be with a doctor. Shit, in all reality, I may not be meant for anyone. I’ve been on twenty dates in the last couple months and no sparks. If I hadn’t felt that spark last year, I might not believe it’s attainable, but I did. Though, that didn’t work out…

“How’s the Collins’ case—”

“Why don’t you leave your lab coat in the car?”

His brown eyes meet mine, confusion filling his features. He draws in his thick brown brows, and he parts his lips a bit. He has the perfect complexion; he must have not had acne growing up. I did, which is why I wear makeup everywhere. He’s just too put together. I’m not saying I want a shitshow as a partner, but when I let my crazy out, I don’t want to be judged for it. “Sorry?”

“Your lab coat. You wear it every time we go out.”

“I’m coming from the hospital. It’s a part of me in a way,” he says with a wry laugh. “Does it bother you?”

“A little,” I say, leaning on my hand. “It reminds me of all the times I sat in chemo.”

Compassion fills his features as he nods slowly. “I’m sure it does,” he says, and then he takes his coat off. “Want me to take it to the car?”

Now I feel silly. “No, you didn’t even need to take it off.”

His lips move a bit at the side. Not a smirk but still a movement. “I wanted to. For you. I really like you, Jaylin.”

Fuck me. I smile kindly. “You’re great, Mal, and I enjoy our lunches—”

“But?”

I smile, even though he looks so dejected. “But I’m not feeling it.”

“It?” he asks, his eyes holding mine.

“The spark.”

“A spark, huh?” he says with a little bit of laughter. “There aren’t sparks anymore at our age. Now, it’s about finding someone to live life with. Have some kids before it’s too late. Be real, Jaylin.”

“At our age? What does that even mean?”

“It means we can’t be picky. It’s time to have kids.”

My jaw drops. “Malcolm, I’m only thirty-three.”

“And I’m almost forty.”

I blink. “Okay, well, for me, I want the spark.”

He nods before he gets up, grabbing his coat. “I won’t waste either of our time, then. It was nice to get to know you. Have a good life.”

And without another glance or even a word, he walks out with that damn coat hanging over his arm. I watch as he leaves, going over what just happened. Am I getting to the age where I have to settle for someone who’s just okay? Or someone I can tolerate for the rest of my life? I don’t want that. I want someone who gives me the fucking spark. Someone I look at and feel safe. Someone I know has my back, as I’ll have his. I don’t know why I want a man—I’m a pretty independent chick, but I do want one. I want my forever.

And I blame this all on my best friend.

When I arrive at Willz Sub Shop, I park beside my best friend’s new SUV and laugh at the sight of it. My best friend, Aviva, never wanted an SUV, or a minivan, but I don’t think she was ever looking for anyone like Nico Merryweather either. As I head to the door, I notice that it’s not busy since the lunch rush just finished, but there are some folks inside. Behind the counter, Aviva moves around, acting like she isn’t six months pregnant. I shake my head as I sit at the newly installed counter. I’m pretty sure they built this so Nico could eat and stare at Aviva with only a sheet of glass between them.

When Aviva sees me, she grins before leaning on the counter. “The usual? Oh, wait. You had lunch with Malcolm.”

“Yup. And paid for it too since he left.” Her eyes widen as I nod, rolling my own. “That’s over.”

“Over? It just started.”

“I know, but he said we’re at the age where we need to settle down and have kids with someone we like, not feel a spark with.”

She makes a face. “Jesus.”

“Exactly.”

She leans on her elbows, watching me, and I let out a long sigh. “This is your fault,” I accuse, and she laughs as she stands up, cupping her belly.