Nothing better
AN: This is my very first Hart of Dixie fic. Only a few episodes have aired here in The Netherlands, but I already love Wade and Zoe. And thanks to YouTube I have gotten a drift of where the show is going but I haven't seen full episodes after mid-season 1. All mistakes therefor are mine. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Can I claim ownership of a plaid clad Southern boy? All of them but Wade, I suppose. Oh well…not mine…
He was obnoxious. Pretentious. Ostentatious. Annoying. And way out of line. And you wish you could say this all out loud straight into his pompous snooty face and walk away with all the dignity you can muster and you're not quite sure how long you can hold on while at the same time trying your very hardest not to get drunk in order to forget how incredibly obnoxious this man really is.
But you can't. Can't get drunk, can't yell in his face because this man is supposed to be your friend and he's been through a lot and contrary to popular belief, you do value friendships that have lasted as long as this one. Even when you have no idea why at this moment.
You got the call last week. Poor Danny, he was hysterical. Not that that's anything new, it's his usual mode to be in, but it was topped with so much heartbreak, you felt instantly sorry for him. Which was your downfall.
Danny has been your friend since your senior year of high school. Like you, he was accepted into medical School, but unlike you, he was neither happy nor talanted. Being a doctor was not really on top of his wish list. But when your father is chief of staff of the neurology department of the biggest hospital on the east coast, he would not settle for a son who read all versions of Vogue like they were the Holy Bible and whose dream it was to be handpicked by Armani to be his crown prince and heir to his empire.
As it was, the boy was even afraid to step one single toe out of line, let alone any closet. He deliberately failed in chemistry and biology, but his father, knowing and acknowledging at least that his son had a brilliant mind, knew he was slacking on purpose and threatened to cut him off entirely if his grades did not improve. Danny kept his mouth shut and his dreams to himself for as long as he could.
Until he fell in love and that first love had given him so much power, he had walked away, moved in with his then boyfriend and never looked back. He now worked three jobs to get himself through Fashion Academy and he was mostly happy, even though he was perpetually broke and his first love had long since fizzled out to be replaced by a second, third and fourth "love of his life", not counting the many one night stands and drunken indiscretions.
All in all, when it came to Danny's (sex) life, he was a gay version of Wade.
In whose bar you were currently sitting, after having been stupid enough to convince your moping New York friend to come over and help him get through another heartbreak. At least it was a subject you could relate to. Of course, when you hightailed out of Bluebell, Danny was the first one you had visited, and after a bottle of the good stuff (each) he knew all about your break-up with the local bartender. And he knew the depth of your betrayal as well, him being the only one whom you told the exact amount of love you felt for your neighbor.
So this was you, returning the favor, bitching about his lousy ex-boyfriend like he had done about yours.
Yet, being back in Bluebell and now without Joel to hide behind, bashing Wade Kinsella seemed to be a lot less fun. And you know you should have told Danny that too. Perhaps then this little trip to nowhere would not have been such a disaster.
The moment he comes barging into your little clinic, he looks shocked. As if he's lost in time and wants to take the time machine back to the 21st century right now. He looks a bit like (might as well admit to it) you did when you first stepped out of the bus; not exactly open minded to small town living and the people who dwelled in places called Bluebell that haven't really changed in appearance since the Civil War and don't see the need to either.
He looks immaculate, as usual. His suit's expensive and tailor made and you're sure you can see your face in his highly polished Italian loafers, which are just as unpractical in this sandy environment as your beloved Louboutins. His last boyfriend was a rich, pedantic dandy and at least Danny seemed to have had the balls to walk away with his head held high and half his ex's wardrobe. Well, good for him.
Until you accompany him outside…not so good.
The way he carries himself screams his homosexuality to a town that has only slowly started to accept you for being a foreigner. And if you were ever the odd one out, Danny is not even from their planet.
And he's really not a bad guy and there's really no danger of him being chased away with flaming torches and pitchforks, but it's too bad his face is contorted in a blatant expression of disdain. Without it, he might have looked at least somewhat normal.
The moment you step into the packed place, you know it was a gross mistake to invite Danny to have lunch with you at the Rammer Jammer. Just because you feel at ease there (regardless of the status quo between yourself and both its owners) doesn't mean it's suitable for a man like your high maintenance New York friend.
He stands out like a sore thumb, even more so than Joel did at one point and definitely more so than you still do. And at least Joel tried.
Thinking about your now ex-boyfriend again brings a wistful smile on your face. Joel was never the love of your life, he was a ridiculous distraction and once he finally caught on, somewhere between the moving boxes and your lack of enthusiasm in decorating the new house, he very quickly found his way back to New York.
You neither blame nor miss him, which really says it all. In fact, sometimes you think even Wade misses him more than you do. His relationship with Vivian went sour around the same time Joel left. Something to do with her son's continuous hatred of him and Wade finally throwing in the towel when he understood that his girlfriend was a mom first and his lover only when she could fit him into her schedule.
He seemed sad for a while, but now he acts and looks okay. Not that you would ask him. These days, you ask him for a glass of wine or a salad only. He's the local bar owner and you're a family doctor. Oh, and you're neighbors again, sharing a fuse box you now very carefully avoid to blow. He's not even your patient unless he has no other choice.
Which is okay. You've both moved on.
When you concentrate once more on Mr. Danny Annoying, you find him complaining about the weather. And sure, it's warm and clammy, but what else is new really? So you tell him how you've grown used to it and can't imagine the cold of a winter in the Northern part of the States anymore.
As if quick to defend his town (which used to be yours too after all), he reflects.
"In New York, it can get pretty warm too, you know. We do know heat waves. Remember when…"
But another memory forces itself into your mind, blocking out all Danny's babbling.
Not like the ones over here. Where the entire village gets all worked up and you end up almost, almost agreeing to have the most wonderful sex of your life with your way too good looking and charming neighbor…
"At least they don't last. The rain comes in after a while too. And with a nice storm to boot. Like the one…"
But New York doesn't have animal sheds from which tiny goats escape and no way too good looking charming neighbor whose warm strong hands are so gentle as they put a bandage on your wounded shoulder.
"Heck, one time we even had a storm that took out the power in almost half the city. Was that two or three years ago, Zoe?"
But in New York you never shared a fuse box with that very same way too good looking neighbor so all you have to do to lure him over is turn on every electric appliance you own and blow it all to pieces. And he was not there to kiss you and pin you to the wall and give you the kind of A+ sex he always so deservedly boasts about.
Okay, so you're getting too worked up now and you're mighty glad that when you finally gather your wits about you again, he's changed to subject and is now complaining loudly about the slow service and the lack of attention paid to the presentation of the food. Now you're not a connoisseur or anything, but you do think that there's a limit to the ways one can make a burger and fries look anything other than what they are. Why would that be necessary anyway? The food on your own plate looks unpretentious too, but it's still good food.
Which is why you never aspired to be a master chef. You'll gladly leave the gumbo making to Wade.
No, Zoe Hart, you're not to think of Wade again. You've moved on, remember?
"Bartender, hey, get me another glass of wine! And make it a good one this time!"
His attitude is appalling and you wonder if he's gotten worse or if you're only seeing it now that you're not surrounded by thousands of other equally rude big city folk.
So you really don't blame Wade for taking his time to show up. When he calmly saunters over to the bar, he doesn't even acknowledge the rudeness of the order and simply grabs a glass and a bottle of his cheapest wine, which is really not too bad. He pours out the glass and sets it down in front of Danny, asking him politely, yet with a cold edge you pick up on, if there's anything else he can do. Yet not hanging around long enough to hear the answering sneer.
After taking a big gulp from his drink, Danny's attention turns back to you. Oh goody.
"Well, doctor Hart, (he always uses your title when he's drunk and unhappy) I'm sure you can explain to me why you don't just leave this hole in the wall town behind and return to civilization. I don't know how you cope with it every single day. Don't you miss the sophistication of a big city?"
You wonder for a second what his definition of the word is, because he sure as hell ain't showin' it! And why does that sound like Wade's voice in your head when you think that?
Then you realize he's still waiting for an answer. And where some time ago you would have wholeheartedly agreed with him, a sudden and undeniable love for this small place crashes through you and you answer in style.
"Sure there are part of the big city life I miss, but this place is really okay. Takes some time to get used to, but it really grew on me. People here still really care for each other and take the time to get to know and help the other one. It might be remote, but I can get lonelier in the throngs of a big city than I do here. You know, where people care."
He looks at you like you've just admitted to enjoy living in a leper colony. Which, admittedly, you once thought you did.
Stupid armadillo. Named Randy. Really? Who names an armadillo Randy? Who names an armadillo anything for that matter?
Apparently, Danny's not the only one who's heard you, because out of nowhere a glass of white wine (your favorite) appears and you feel a gentle, familiar warm hand squeeze your shoulder.
"On the house, Doc," he drawls, giving you a wink and a smile you haven't seen for months and which, admittedly, turns your stomach into Jell-O. Cheating bastard or not, Wade Kinsella will never leave you completely indifferent.
The smile still evident on your face, you reluctantly focus your attention on Mr. Rude once more, still trying to see the friend of old times in this guy you hardly recognize. He stares at you with an even more incredulous look on his face, fork with mashed potatoes hanging frozen in mid-air as he forgets to eat.
Perhaps he's more perceptive than you gave him credit for, because he glances from you to Wade and back to you again.
"Is that him Zoe? Please tell me you weren't hung up on him? I mean, you can certainly do a lot better than someone like that!"
The last word comes out with so much contempt you can no longer for the life of you control your anger. Despite of all the pain you're still going through because of him, you're still fiercely proud of the man Wade's become and the progress he has made in his life and you don't need some big town hotshot surgeon to trample all over him, thinking he's better because of his fancy degree and his expensive suit!
"You know what? I can't! You come in here and all you see is a small town going nowhere with people who aren't worthy of spit polishing your shoes. You look down at Wade because he doesn't own an Armani coat or Prada shoes! Because he wears dusty boots and plaid flannel shirts and only buys magazines with a lack of clothed models like any warm-blooded, straight guy should! And no, he's no anorexic androgynous super model for some fancy magazine, but he sure does look damn fine without a shirt on!"
Danny scoffs, but you're not done yet. Not even close!
"But you don't see how valuable he is and how hard he works every day to make this place a success! He's a kind and caring guy, who stays with you when you're afraid of ghosts or who chases snakes and armadillos and bats away or who tries to bake you your favorite cookies, which were disgusting but it's still the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me! So don't try to tell me I can do better than Wade Kinsella, because I tried and it turns out I can't. I can't love anyone else! And I will not sit here and let you belittle a great, sweet man! Wade is worth ten guys like yourself!"
Your ranting comes to an abrupt end and you're quite out of steam, not to mention wholly surprised by yourself. Not just because of what you said, but because you realized mid-tantrum that you meant every word of it.
True, the memory of Wade's infidelity and his betrayal still hurt and you're a long way from trusting him fully again, but you haven't stopped loving him for a moment and you doubt you ever will.
It's only then, with you still catching your breath that you notice how silent the Rammer Jammer has become. You could literally hear a pin drop and with a shock the truth of the situation hits you:
Everyone heard your confession of love for Wade.
Including the man himself.
He's stopped dead in his tracks, his face shocked. Nobody moves. It's like someone has hit the 'pause' button.
Suddenly feeling stifled, you finally manage to order your muscles to move. Standing wobbly, not daring to even glance at the awe-struck Danny, you stumble out of the café. For a moment, you have no idea where to go, which way your home is. But then some common sense slowly returns and you start walking in the direction of the plantation, hoping nobody will try to come after you.
Hoping Wade might.
When he doesn't, you know that all is lost. No Wade. No more Danny. Not even Joel. Still taking one step in front of the other, you stubbornly move on.
Not noticing the pothole your foot gets stuck in. you feel yourself lose your balance and quickly stick your hands out to catch your fall.
It only works a little. Your face doesn't hit the dusty ground, but your hands and knees do and no matter what people say, skinning your palms and your knees still hurts like a bitch!
Grumbling, crying and feeling more miserable than you've ever felt before, you manage to crawl up and look for a place to hide and literally lick your wounds until…well, maybe next Christmas. The Rammer Jammer is still the closest building you can reach, but there's just no way you could handle stumbling in there. Not now.
But the clinic is too far away for you to walk and you know that in this climate, with this kind of dirt on the paths, you have to clean yourself up if you don't want to get some kind of infection. Come to think of it, how long has it been since you last had a Tetanus shot?
So, to the clinic it is. You're halfway there when your knee gives a violent sting and you can't move on. Two steps further and you've reached a bench in front of the gazebo, where you gingerly sit down.
"Zoe?"
Great. Absolutely fantastic.
You don't look up, hoping that, if you ignore him, he might figure out he's not needed here.
But of course he doesn't. Why did you think for one moment he would?
He comes closer, gingerly sitting down next to you. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and even though you fight it, you still gravitate towards it.
"That looks painful," he mentions, glancing at your bruised knees.
"It is. I should go to the clinic. I need to clean myself up."
You stand wobbly, try to take one step, but can't stifle a soft moan in pain.
"It'll take you an hour to get across the street, doc. Let me help you."
You're about to protest you don't need him at all, but Wade being Wade, he ignores your feeble objections and simply lifts you up in his strong arms. All memories of happier times when he's carried you off (to bed mostly) come flooding back and your body betrays your vocal chords as it claims its rightful, familiar safe spot against his chest.
All the way to the clinic he remains silent, but there's something on your mind you have to tell him, before you're again being surrounded by others.
"Wade?"
"Yes, doc?"
"What I just said, at the Rammer Jammer…"
He looks down at you with a little sad smile, as if he's been preparing himself for your explanation and not expecting it to be any good.
"It's fine doc. I know it won't change anything. It was very sweet of you to say and I'm honored and grateful, but I know you never meant to say it out loud and you won't be crawling back to me any time soon."
You're not quite sure how to react to that, to the sad finality in his words and his voice, so you remain silent. But just as he's about to kick the door of the clinic (not being able to knock with his arms full of you), you ask him one more thing.
"Wade, are we…you know, ok?"
A sigh and a single kiss on the top of your head.
"Yes doc, we're fine. In fact, I think there will be a lot of glasses of wine waiting for you at the bar."
"Thanks, I'll be needing them."
"Well, let's get those knees of you checked out."
The moment Addy sees you come in, she calls out for Brick, who hurries Wade into his room, where he gently puts you down on the exam table.
"Christ Almighty, Dr. Hart, I always told you those killer heels of yours would be the death of you one of these days," the other doctor mutters as he dabs your knees with a cloth of iodine.
"Told her that a million times Brick, but she's stubborn as hell, always knows better, yet always making the same mistakes."
Wow. That stings more than your abrasions. Why does he have to sound so condescending only minutes after you announced your love for him to practically the entire town! Anger laces the venomous words coming out of your mouth next.
"Yeah, I do. I keep forgetting you're a liar and a cheat!"
Well, that does it. The smirk disappears from his handsome face and he looks suddenly so forlorn that you immediately regret your stupid outburst. Yet another mistake, albeit a new one. Trying to take it back, to do some damage control, you look up at him, but he avoids your gaze.
"Brick? Can you make sure she gets home safe? I need to get back to work."
He leaves without a single word and without looking back.
Brick charters Lavon to come and take you home. Your friend tries to figure out what has caused your morose mood, but you can't tell him. Yes, he's your friend, but he's been wade's friend for much longer and this time, he will side with him. As he should. You're a horrible person.
He drops you off at the carriage house and helps you hobble up the stairs. Once inside, he tries one more time to get you to open up to him, but you smile sadly.
"I'm too tired now, Lavon. You'll hear about my stupidity soon enough I guess. And you won't feel too sympathetic when you do."
Once he leaves you to yourself, you slump down on your bed and allow yourself to have a nice big cry. Fishing your phone out of your purse, you send a text to Danny telling him what happened and where you are. He texts back that he's on his way to Mobile already, too embarrassed to stay at the Rammer Jammer after making such a spectacle of himself. He'll catch the first plane back to NYC the next morning.
None too secretly glad that's over, you fall backwards on your pillows, extracting one of Wade's shirts from underneath. You don't think he knows it's missing, or perhaps he does and just doesn't care enough the ask for it.
His smell is almost gone, but if you inhale deeply, there's still a whiff of it left. It soothes you as well as hurts you, but it's all you have left. You certainly made sure of that, didn't you?
Feeling the tears bubble up again, you bury your face in the soft, worn flannel and stretch out on the bed, sobbing until pure exhaustion takes you away.
The next morning it takes all of your leftover strength to get up and running, your bruised knees protesting with every move. But you manage and very early, before either Lavon or Wade are up, you make a cup of coffee, grab a bagel and head out to work.
It's a slow day and you're really bored. Bored and brooding. Wondering if there's another reason you seem to have no patients today. When you venture outside to get some lunch, people are looking at you with expressionless faces, like you're not even there. The lack of gossip makes you nervous, like the whole town is shutting you out. Where some time ago, Wade was being branded the bad guy for cheating, it is clear that what you've done is ten times worse.
Wade might not have told anyone what you said, but when he's sulking, the whole town still blames you and they will keep doing that until your dying day. Bad boy he might be, Wade's still one of them. And well, you're not.
Case closed.
It remains that way for the rest of the week. You hardly see Wade and as you had expected, Lavon, who has heard both versions of the story, is not very impressed by your blabbermouth actions.
"He might not be willing to admit to it, Z., but he did get his hopes up after what you said to that freak friend of yours. And Lavon Hayes knows what he did to you and I know it hurt, but you either forgive him and make it work between the two of you or you don't, in which case I do suggest you leave him alone from now on. At least allow him to heal. To move on. Don't use his heart for a yoyo!"
He's right and you know it. And you do your best to stay out of Wade's path. No Rammer Jammer and no kitchen during rush hour. Evenings spent alone with the curtains drawn and whichever generic stuff the Dixie stuff had available. No more fancy white wine just for you.
The scent of his shirt still deteriorates.
Yet, the hurt just won't subside this time and neither will the guilt. It gnaws at you and a week after you did what you did, you decide to end it once and for all.
End it exactly the way it started.
It's your day off and you wait until you hear Wade's car leave the premises. You take a nice, long shower and carefully dress to impress. His favorite pair of short shorts, a nice white, almost see-through blouse and a pair of super high heeled strappy sandals. Luckily, the bruises and scabs on your knees have all but faded and no longer hurt.
Spraying on some delicate perfume and adding some subtle jewelry as well as a nice shade of lipstick,, you look as good as you can and ready for action.
Lavon wolf whistles when you come in and you confide in him what you're up to.
"I wish you luck, big Z., but you'd better mean it this time. Lavon does not appreciate getting caught in the middle again."
"I do mean it. I love him. I want him back."
"That's good, Z. That's real good. You want a ride into town then?"
"Was hoping for it, actually."
"Of course you were. Let's go then."
Ten minutes later, Lavon stops the car in front of the Rammer Jammer. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you fumble with the seatbelt. Your friend, recognizing your panic, reaches over to undo your belt and open the door.
"Go for it Z. Look at it this way. If he doesn't react the way you hope he will, you know you tried and you redeemed yourself in the eyes of the people. And he loves you, Zoe. He really does."
"Will you have the wine ready if I fail?"
"Yes, and the champagne when you succeed. And Lavon feels it's a bubbly kind of day!"
With that, he gently pushes you out and hits the accelerator before you can change your mind.
There's no turning back now. You have to do this. You owe it to him, to yourself, to the whole dream of the two of you.
Shaking despite of the heat, you take one step forward, then another. And another. And before you know it, you're opening the door and stepping into the dimly lit bar. It's not as busy as the last time you were in here, with breakfast over and lunch not served yet. As soon as your eyes are adjusted to the lack of sunlight, you scan the place for a familiar figure. He glances at you for a moment and your heart stops.
There's nothing in his eyes. No hostility, no pain, no sad smile. Not even a hint that he has so much as recognized you. He turns his back on you and resumes cleaning up a recently vacated table, yelling for Lemon to come and help a guest.
Frowning, the blonde comes out.
"And why do I have to deal with a guest when you're…oh...never mind. What can I get you Dr. Hart?"
"Nothing, I just need to talk to Wade."
"Well, he's busy and it is kind of rude to walk into a bar and not order anything, you know."
"Fine! I'll have some sweet tea then, but you can't prevent me from saying what I came here to say."
Pleading now, you address the back of the man standing only a few feet away from you, feet that feel like miles.
"Wade, I know what I said at the clinic hurt you and I'm sorry. Deeply sorry."
He stirs and you hold your breath, but all he does is move to a table even further away and start wiping it so vigorously you wonder if he's trying to rub of the varnish as well.
Taking a few steps closer, ignoring the panic rising in your throat, you bravely plunge ahead.
"But you have to know I still meant every word I said earlier, here at the Rammer Jammer. I am so proud of you. I think you're doing so well and I always did. I was deluding myself when I thought George was the one I wanted because he fitted the old picture I had in my mind so much better than you did. But then the pictured changed and it was all because of you. And even though what you did to me hurt, I know it hurt you too and ever since then I've tried to change the picture again, but I can't. you're in there and I want you, need you to be in there, Wade!"
His shoulders tense visibly, but he still doesn't acknowledge you. Desperate now, you throw all caution to the wind and go in with all guns blazing.
All or nothing. Here you go.
"I'm proud of you. I've forgiven you long time ago. I trust you fully and explicitly. I need you. I miss you. I want you back. I love you, Wade Kinsella. I truly, really love you. And I'll do anything for another chance."
Silence falls. Deafening. Lemon has come back out of the office. Wanda, sitting at the bar, has tears in her eyes. All of them are waiting for something to happen.
Nothing happens.
You've gambled everything and you've lost.
Run. You need to turn and run. Back to the carriage house. Perhaps back to New York. Yet, you stand there, paralyzed. Hanging onto a sliver of hope.
Please, Wade. Please.
Just…do something. Say something. Anything.
Nothing…
Finally, something vital clicks in your head, mobilizing you. Turning on your heel, you don't try to hold your head high as the tears obstruct your view and you clumsily bump into tables and chairs on your way to the safety outside.
Stumbling, you almost make it to the door, when something yanks you back. You turn and the memento throws you against something warm and solid.
Two strong, familiar, welcome arms wrap themselves around you and even though they momentarily cut off your oxygen supply, you don't care. Wade's here, he's holding onto you for dear life, whispering stuttering nonsense in your ear. He's here. He's heard you.
When you finally look up at him, he's smiling through his tears. You give a little yelp of surprise when he lifts you in his arms, the oh so welcome "come here" sounding so sweet from his lips. You lift your head and kiss him fully on the mouth, a kiss he answers with a soft groan.
"Wade?"
"Yes, Zoe?"
"Take me home."
He nods and hollers at Lemon he's taking the rest of the day off. Not awaiting her answer, he strolls out and gently puts you in the front seat of his car. Dividing his attention between you and the road proves to be a struggle, but it's not very busy and you make it back in one piece.
You spend the rest of the day proving to yourself and him that he's the one you truly love, want and trust. That there truly is nothing or nobody better.
Lavon Hayes was right. This is a bubbly day.
THE END