Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

But he sounded a little less confident than he had a few minutes ago, when he’d assured her that her mother would be just fine.

“Thanks.”

They both sat down, but this time without talking, and Clint didn’t put his arm back around her. She tried to tell herself she was glad. But deep inside it made her feel lonely, yearning for something she was never going to have.

And what was that exactly?

A relationship with Clint?

Those four words caused a shudder to ripple through her. Her arms went around her waist, even though the waiting room wasn’t chilly.

God, she hoped that’s not what she was looking for. Because that wasn’t on the cards for her or for Clint. Going down that road would be a recipe for disaster.

She would do better on that front, starting now. Despite her earlier thoughts, she needed to start relying on Clint less than she currently was.

The problem was, Jessi honestly didn’t know how she was going to back away when the time came.

Because that crack in her heart was just waiting for an excuse to widen. And she had a feeling it was already far too late to stop that from happening. The crowbar was there in hand, poised and ready.

Or maybe it wasn’t her hand that wielded that power at all.

What if, in the end, Clint was the one to decide if her heart came apart in jagged pieces or remained intact?

When the nurse finally came down to tell her her mom was awake and ready to see her, Jessi was relieved to be able to walk away from her spinning, panicked thoughts … and to put her attention firmly where it should have been all along: on her mom and Chelsea … and off Clint.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE SUN WAS peeking out from between heavy storm clouds. Both figuratively and literally. At least as far as Chelsea was concerned. A good omen.

Jessi’s mom was home and recovering after her bypass surgery. Clint had seen Jessi in passing, but she had her hands full at the moment with her job, her mom and her daughter.

Which brought him back to the item on his desk.

Transfer papers.

Or rather a request to terminate his temporary assignment in Richmond and head back to Cali, where, from what he’d read on the internet that morning, all was sunny and bright. Not a cloud in sight.

And, hell, he could use a little more light right now to clear his head.

To sign or not to sign, that was the question.

No, it wasn’t. He’d eventually put in that request. It was only a matter of time. And willpower.

Willpower he’d been sorely lacking in the past several weeks. To stay would be a mistake. Something he’d convinced himself of time and time again.

His presence here in Richmond brought back memories of not-so-happy times for all of them.

How many times had Jessi mentioned Larry’s name? Hell, he hadn’t even known the man had died when he’d arrived here, much less the reason for it. And Jessi had been carrying that around for all these years.

And being here with her was a definite reminder of his own bitter childhood. People from his past knew more than he’d realized—judging from Mrs. Spencer’s comments at dinner. They’d evidently talked amongst themselves about his father’s problems.

And Clint’s explosive reactions when he was around Jessi? Also reminders of what a lack of control could cause—had caused. He might have enjoyed it at the time, but there were consequences for everything in this life.

He’d have to leave some time or other. Why not now? Chelsea was scheduled to be released from the hospital next week. She’d continue her sessions as an outpatient … a victory he should be cheering, instead of acting like he was about to be shot off to the moon, never to be heard from again.

Maybe he’d request deployment instead. That should take him far enough away. Or he could just let the army decide where he was needed, rather than ask to return to San Diego.

Chelsea popped her head in, as if she’d heard his thoughts. “Have you heard anything about my grandmother yet?”

He slid the transfer papers beneath a file folder, not willing to let her see it. No need to cause a panic. It would take time for the orders to go through, anyway.

“No, just that she’s been released.” He smiled at her. “And you really should learn to knock, young lady. I could have been with a patient.”

He motioned at the chair across from his desk.

Her lips twisted. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“No problem.” He tapped the eraser end of his pencil on the smooth gray surface of the desk, the hidden papers glaring at him from their hiding place. “As I was saying, your grandmother seems to be doing pretty well, according to your mom. She just has to take it easy for a few weeks.”

Just like he did. He’d seen firsthand the problems that jumping into something with both feet could bring.

“Hmm …”

“And what does that sound mean?” He forced a light smile, although it felt like the corners of his mouth were weighted down with chunks of concrete.

Chelsea’s own light attitude vanished. “I was hoping to do something, but I guess it can wait until Nana’s feeling better.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. I was telling Paul that I’d like to hold a memorial service for my … for the baby. He said he’d like to come. So did some of the others in our group.”

Paul Ivers, a young man who’d moved over to sit by Chelsea during one of their group sessions. When had this particular conversation taken place?

“I don’t see why that couldn’t happen at some point.”

“I’d want you there as well, if that’s okay. You’ve helped me so much.”

“I haven’t done anything, Chelsea. You’ve come this far under your own power. I’ve just been here to listen and facilitate.”

“Maybe you don’t think you’ve done