Dr. Westin handed Henley a prescription for vitamins, and as she walked toward the door, she said, “Cassidy, I have the room set up next door for you. I’ll let you go get ready while I check your blood work.”
“Okay.” I really didn’t even see the point in getting the damn shot again. It wasn’t like I was going to be sexually active anytime soon. But they did help regulate my cycle, and since I was already there, I decided I might as well do it. I followed Dr. Westin out into the hall, and she motioned for me to go into the room to my left. Once I was inside, I put on the scratchy paper gown and waited for the doctor to come in. It was the first time I’d left my room at the club, other than working at the bar, since I’d returned from Anchorage, and if it weren’t for Henley, I’d still be there. The past week had been hard. I hadn’t heard anything from Cotton since the day I left, and it was killing me. I had no idea how he was doing. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach whenever I thought about the possibility of him never walking again. I desperately wanted to see him, talk to him, and see for myself how he was really doing, but I didn’t have that option. I kept hoping he’d change his mind and at least contact me. But he didn’t, and I was beginning to think he never would.
When we finished up and headed out to the parking lot, we found Clutch and Smokey waiting for us. Just like always, Clutch was there, keeping an eye on us, but this time, he was too leery to ask either of us how it went. They followed us back to the clubhouse, but then left us, so they could go take care of some club business. I had no idea what was going on with the club, and I was getting worried. I was relieved when Guardrail finally called me into Cotton’s office.
“He’s doing better,” he clipped.
“And?” I pushed.
“Cass, he’s going to be there a while. Not sure how long it’s going to take for him to get back home.”
“I see… and he couldn’t tell me this himself?” I snapped. I was beyond relieved he was going to be okay, but I couldn’t imagine why he couldn’t pick up the phone and just call me—let me hear it from him he was going to be okay. Besides, I didn’t know what okay even meant. Would he be able to walk again? Would he be able to keep his presidency at the club? Everything was still up in the air, and I hated it. Cotton just kept dishing out the hurt, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
I could see it in his eyes—he knew I was right. He ran his hand through his hair and said, “Just thought you’d want to know, Cass. I know you’ve been worried.”
“I understand… I might as well go on and tell you I’ve decided to move back to my apartment.”
“Okay,” he answered.
“Maybe you can get Tristan to cover my hours at the bar,” I suggested.
“Why would I do that?” he questioned.
“I’m leaving, Guardrail. I really need some time to clear my head,” I told him.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he barked, “No. Not gonna happen.”
“You can’t make me stay here, Guardrail. I’m not officially claimed by Cotton, or anyone else for that matter. I’m just the bartender,” I explained, my heart breaking as I said the words.
“You are more than just the fucking bartender, and you know it.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. I’ve got to do what is best for me right now, and being at the clubhouse isn’t it. I’ll take some time off and eventually find a job somewhere else. It will be the best thing for all of us. Cotton doesn’t need me distracting him while he’s trying to get back on his feet.”
He finally relented and even got Allie to help me find a secretarial job at a local pediatrician’s office. The pay wasn’t all that great, but if things went well, I would be promoted to a manager’s position, which would mean a substantial increase in my salary. I gladly took the job, and in no time, I was easing into a real routine. It felt good to be back in my own apartment and away from all the memories of Cotton. I missed him. I thought being home would help, but every time I turned around, I found something that reminded me of him—an old t-shirt of his hanging in the closet, a song playing on the radio, or just a motorcycle passing by my window. He was everywhere. I couldn’t get away from him, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to.
Thankfully, work helped keep me distracted. My first day went by in a complete blur. I was busy getting to know all the office routines and meeting all the doctors who worked there. They were all very nice, especially Sydney. She was in charge of billing and apparently knew all of the office gossip. I’d only been there a couple of hours when she came over, sat down next to me, and said, “Dr. Weston is getting a divorce.”
“Which one is Dr. Weston?” I asked. I’d met them all, but I was still learning who was who.
“The older guy… with the weird hair and glasses. I heard his wife was cheating on him with her mechanic,” she whispered. “And they had a prenup, so she won’t get a dime.”