Another HoD fic. I really am becoming addicted.
This is a one-shot – A REALLY LONG one-shot. I thought about spreading it out into a few chapters but I think it works better as one long story. I like chapters that are long.
I don't know how well I've done with this. I'm not sure I've gotten all the characters perfect, and I hope Wade and Zoe aren't too OOC. Let me know what you think...
...and enjoy!
This is an AU story - what if Zoe had gone to Boston? What would have happened?
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hart of Dixie or any of the characters
xXx
Questions of the Heart
Sometimes Zoe wishes she could go back. She wishes that she had never gone to Bluebell, Alabama. Life was straightforward then. She had a plan, dammit: go to New York (the best city in the entire world; many people would give their left arms just to be there), get the fellowship, become the best surgeon of her age, and join her father.
She's reminded of the saying: if you want God to laugh, then make a plan.
Now she's more confused than ever. She has so many questions:
Was going to Bluebell a complete waste of time?
Is being a surgeon actually what she wants to do?
Is Rose okay?
Was leaving George the right thing to do?
Am I happy?
Usually she can put them aside, shove them in a box in her mind and turn the key. But naturally it's in the dead of night when the key turns and the box opens, allowing the questions to spill out like blood spilling from the heart. She's lost count of how many nights she's been tossing and turning, wishing her brilliant mind would just give it a rest.
It's pointless anyway. She's left Bluebell far behind. She's never going back.
xXx
Boston is everything Zoe had thought – in fact it's just like New York. The people here are absolutely driven, just like she is; they bustle and push past each other, all with their own agendas. No one apologises or interferes with anyone else's business. The entire city runs on: a lot of people get up at four in the morning to get ready for work, and many more people stay up late into the night, and the cycle repeats.
Of course being a doctor – no, being a surgeon – is hard work. The hours are long – she's managed thirty hour shifts before, but right now she's not used to them. She shakes her head one morning after checking on one patient after another. Damn Bluebell – her body's become weak. She needs to get used to being a surgeon again. There's going to be a lot of long nights ahead of her.
Becoming tired isn't the only thing that's changed. She finds herself talking to her patients more. Before the chief of staff had complained that she didn't interact enough with her patients – now she's been ticked off for talking with them too much. She asks unnecessary questions – she doesn't even realise she's doing it – and of course, patients are happy to talk. She sometimes even sneaks it after her shift is over to talk with one of her favourite patients, Miss Kate Ellis. She's a southern lady that lived in Birmingham for most of her life. She keeps Zoe up talking about the civil rights movement and missing her friends back home. "I just don't like Boston," she says, shaking her head. "It's too cold for my liking."
"I know," Zoe says without thinking. She catches herself. What is she saying? Since when did she dislike the weather in Boston? But it turns out she doesn't have a lot of warm clothing anymore. She has t-shirts and skirts, summer dresses and her shorts. With a heaved sigh she shoves them to the back of her wardrobe and puts on warmer, more respectable clothing.
It's not just the patients she wants to talk to. She walks into a coffee shop and...nothing. No one, not even one person stops to give her a glance. It disconcerts her now, after so many times of entering the Rammer Jammer and having everyone stop to stare at her. And she misses the gossip. When people in Bluebell were whispering over their coffees and breakfasts she knew something had happened and – whether she wanted to know it or not – she would inevitably be told. Now? Now people mind their own business. When she tries to make conversation with the waitress she simply gives a raised eyebrow while answering in monosyllables. She leaves without a word of parting and Zoe unwillingly thinks of Shelley.
She shakes her head as she sips her coffee (ugh – too strong) and tells herself to stop being stupid. Forget Bluebell. It doesn't matter. She won't be returning.
xXx
It's been a month since Zoe Hart left. Bluebell hasn't been the same since.
Wade used to think that if Zoe left, the place would go back to normal. He would be Wade Kinsella – local bad boy and stud – and everyone would be happy.
But it hadn't quite worked out that way.
Lemon's happy. She beams all the time as she wanders down the street, smiling and waving to everyone. She's the mascot of the town, rarely seen without a smile on her face. She is in the centre of every activity in the town, continuously bubbling with ideas and plans for renovations. Looking at her, you would think that you'd never seen anyone as happy as Lemon.
But Wade knows Lemon. He knows her all too well. She only acts really happy – drugged up happy – when something's bothering her. And she's worried. She's scared because even though Zoe's left she still hasn't got her fiancé back. George is walking around like his head is somewhere else entirely.
It makes Wade want to punch him. Because damn, he has Lemon and yet he wants Zoe too. Thing is, he had Zoe too. Wade's no fool. He knows that Zoe is in Boston thinking of George – and not of him.
Wade puts on a good act. He smiles all day and well into the evening. He flirts with girls and drinks with them, pulling them onto his lap as he kisses them, and they giggle and blush as usual. At least it doesn't appear that his heart isn't in it.
But he goes home with no one, and lies in bed at night thinking of Zoe. It's like she's put a spell on him and he doesn't know how to get rid of it. I knew she was a witch. She's cursed him with insomnia. He can't stop thinking about her, wondering why she didn't say goodbye.
I enter the kitchen as Lavon is whisking eggs. "Hey Lavon," I greet. Lavon gives a nod and a smile but doesn't say much and the smile doesn't reach the eyes. Instantly I know something is wrong. "Everything alright?" I ask. I cross my arms and lean back against the counter.
Lavon glances up. "It's Zoe," he admits.
Zoe? "What did she do this time?" I ask, already shaking my head. My voice is a little high; I force it to go back down.
"She's gone Wade." Lavon keeps his eyes on me as he says this. Like he's waiting for me to explode, implode or some big scene.
"Gone?" I blurt out. I am unable to help myself. "Gone where?"
"To Boston with her dad. She ain't coming back."
I can't believe it. Zoe is gone. How can she not be living in the other house, taking up my electricity? How can she not come running in here whinging about one thing or another? I want to prove Lavon wrong; I want to enter Zoe's room and find her buried under the covers, screaming at me to get out, her hair a huge mess on top of her head.
No. She hurt me. She led me on during that race, and she doesn't – didn't – give a damn about me. She didn't even say goodbye. So why should I about her? "Well that's good news," I say. I put a smile on my face. "I won't have to keep yelling at her for blowing fuses all the time." Lavon is still watching me. I nod to confirm. "Yeah, it's a damn good thing. Whole lotta less crazy in this town." I rush out the room before Lavon can see my face. I don't realise until later that he already knows – after all, I didn't have breakfast.
He's right; there is a lot less crazy around here – or at least as sane as Bluebell can be. But there's something missing now. The town doesn't seem as enthusiastic as it usually is. Everyone was pleased to hear that Rose was finally out of hospital, but the celebrations were definitely more muted than usual. Shelley's smile is missing something; Tom isn't his usual self; Anna-Beth is like a drooped flower.
He doesn't think he's the only one that is missing Zoe.
xXx
One night George arrives in Boston.
He and Zoe have been communicating. She took a risk by sending him a postcard, and he responded with a letter. They spent a few weeks passing letters back and forth until George finally called her. They spoke on the phone every few days. And then, after a month and a half after leaving, George calls and says he's in Boston for business. Does she want to meet him?
Is that rhetorical?
She spends a good few hours getting ready, until finally deciding on a sexy swirly red dress with matching heels and extra red lipstick. It's taken a lot of effort to get a night off and she's going to owe people favours later – but it'll be worth it to see George.
They meet at (of course) a karaoke bar. As soon as she sees him her heart speeds up. He looks cute in his black shirt, and his hair's spiked up. She stands there admiring him for a few moments before she finally makes her presence known. When he sees her she's sure his eyes light up a little and a smile appears on his face.
"Hi," she says, her eyes shining. She feels extremely relieved to see him again. She hasn't had a chance to meet many people (she's been working a lot, as any good surgeon does) so it's nice to have a night off.
"Hi." He bends down a gives her quick peck on the cheek. The memory of their kiss and what almost happened replays through her mind. With disappointment comes hope. Maybe tonight they will...
They have a meal first. They talk. She takes hold, talking about working as a surgeon and how much she loves it; that she's doing so much surgery that she's become the best of her age in the hospital. She doesn't tell her how tired she is from the long hours; how she now looks in a patient's eyes and feels their pain when she tells them there is no hope; how she spends some nights crying and she doesn't even really know why.
George tells her how proud he is of her. He doesn't talk about himself. It's partly because of Lemon – the unmentionable. It's also because Zoe doesn't give him a chance. She asks about Bluebell. She asks about the three ladies and what the gossip is; who fainted at the local blood drive; how Brick was doing running the practice all by himself. She mentions Lavon and George's eyes darken, so she quickly covers by saying:
"And Wade? How's he?"
George shrugs. "Okay."
"Just okay?"
George gives her a strange look. "Why?"
"He...he was just hurting the last time I was there. I just wanted to know if he was alright."
Something flashes in George's eyes but Zoe can't identify it. She's never been good at understanding people's feelings and so she ignores it. Their eyes meet and she feels her stomach flutter.
"So," she says, breaking the tension. "How've you been? What've you been up to?"
George shrugs. "Cases. Y'know, the usual. It's been a bit annoying because I've had to rearrange a few of them from June 23rd."
"June 23rd?"
Her and her big mouth. George's face reddens slightly and he looks away before looking back at her. "My wedding day."
My wedding day. Zoe feels her own face redden. Yet for the first time with George she feels something spark inside her chest: anger; irritation. "George," she says, harder than usual. It catches his attention and looks up. "Do you like me?"
He doesn't like the question. He ducks down, playing with his food even though there are only a few scraps left. He already takes way too long in answering, and when he finally does it's, "I don't know."
I don't know. A lump rises in Zoe's throat. It takes a lot of effort before swallowing it down. "You don't know?" she whispers. How can he not know? He kissed her and they were going to have sex. Isn't there a better answer there?
Really getting riled up now she says, "Do you love Lemon?"
George jerks his head up. "Of course I do – that's what makes this so damn confusing."
Another meteor-sized lump wedges in her throat. Lemon gets certainty, she gets uncertainty. A voice whispers in her ear: isn't that enough? Can we go now? But a little voice is asking whether she can settle for that.
"You love Lemon." George is taken by surprise at her tone – hell, she's taken surprise by her tone. It's harsh, sharp like the steak knife he's been using. "Then can I ask what you're doing here?"
George – the prick – reaches for her hand. He touches her but it doesn't set off butterflies like it used to. Instead it feels like a rash and she yanks her hand away. His eyes swiftly look to her face, stunned. He has a right to be. She's stunned. No one speaks to George Tucker like this. His intentions are always noble. Thing is, that's what hurts the most. She always thought that he was some hero. That's what everyone says. Yet here he is, flirting with her, a girl who isn't his fiancé.
"Does Lemon know you're here with me?" George glances back down at his plate and Zoe already knows the answer.
"How dare you." It starts quietly but soon her voice get's louder. "How dare you do this to her. She loves you. She still thinks you and her have a chance, and you're up here with me. And – look at me!" She glances down at her shiny red dress that shows off her breasts, her high heels that make her look a little taller. Grabbing the napkin she scrubs hard at the lipstick, rubbing it off.
"Zoe, what are you doing-"
"You've made me the other woman!" Her voice catches other people's ears and eyes; George shrinks a little in his seat. "I was going to sleep with you! I-" Her voice finally catches in her throat and to her horror she feels tears prick at the back of her eyes. "I thought you were good."
He doesn't say anything. George Tucker, golden boy and lawyer, doesn't have any words for her. She knows then that her words have reached their target. Yes, they'll follow George Tucker to his grave. She stands and turns, leaving him in the restaurant.
Then she comes back. She grabs the glass of wine and throws it over him. He gives a surprised cry and half stands. "I hope that leaves a mark," she tells him. Now she turns and leaves.
xXx
She spends the entire night crying. The hours at work don't help. But twenty four hours later she feels better. She realises that getting rid of George was what she needed to do. Even though being with him felt good, she was always feeling guilty for it. He feels like an infection that she's finally gotten rid of. She still feels tired, but now she's better. She's getting there.
She's feeling guilty again. But not about George – hell no. This time it's about Wade. If she's hurt, she can't imagine how he must have felt. She now feels like a huge bitch for not even saying goodbye – and a coward.
So while she's on her break and picks up the phone and before she can come to her senses she calls him. His voice rings a few times before going to voicemail. She doesn't know whether she's grateful or not. "Hey Wade," she says. She waits a few seconds, trying to build up what she's going to say in her mind. "It's me. I mean, it's Zoe." She clears her throat. "I'm okay – I hope you are. I...I just...I wanted to apologise for not saying goodbye. It was stupid and selfish of me and..." Tears are behind her eyes and are threatening to fall. She clears her throat again and tries to push them away. "And I also wanted to say sorry for that night...during the race. I didn't mean to hurt you, but that's no excuse for what I did. I'm sorry." This time there are tears coming down her face and before he can hear them in her voice she hangs up. She'll have to call him again to apologise for not saying goodbye.
She takes deep breathes: in, out, in, out. After a few minutes she wipes the tears from her eyes, chiding herself. She never used to cry before she went to Bluebell.
Damn Bluebell. I should never have gone there. It's screwed everything up.
xXx
Wade doesn't check his phone until the next morning after she called. He's been too busy. The Rammer Jammer was packed the night before and by the time he was finished he was so exhausted he just crawled into bed and fell asleep without another thought.
Now he's back in the bar, working the morning shift. Everyone's here, as usual. Lavon is sitting at the bar. He's usually good at keeping Wade's mind off of other things, but today he's quiet. The whole place seems quiet, as if there's been a death.
In some ways there has been.
Then Rose comes in. She makes her way to the bar as people greet her and tell her how grateful they are to see her up and well. She comes to the seat next to Lavon. "Hey Rose," Wade says. "You're looking better."
"Thanks." Rose smiles but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Wade, Lavon, I wanted to talk to you guys."
"Anything we can do for you?" Lavon asks. Wade's pretty sure that they would do anything for Rose. The surgery really took its toll on her, but there's a little more colour in her cheeks – finally.
"I want to get Zoe back."
Zoe. Wade silently curses. Can't a day go by without his mind going to her?
"Zoe's in Boston Rose." Lavon answers to Wade doesn't have to. "She's a surgeon. It's what she always wanted."
"Zoe doesn't know what she wants!" Rose declares. "She loved it here. I just know that she would rather be here." Her hair swirls as she glances between the two of them. "We just need to convince her."
"Zoe's happy Rose," Wade snaps. Rose shoots a glance at Lavon; he gives a minute nod of the head. "Leave her be."
"We don't know that," Rose argues.
"Are you guys talking about getting Zoe back?" Shelley appears underneath Wade's arm.
He does curse this time. "Zoe is in Boston! She's a surgeon now. It's what she wanted. It's what we wanted. Don't you remember how crazy she made us all? Brick," he says, gesturing to the doctor who is seated not too far away. "You agree with me don't you?"
The doctor pauses for a moment. "I was ready to kill Zoe Hart when she arrived here," he confesses. "But I have to admit, I do miss her. I thought it would be easier for people if she left too, but it turns out it hasn't made a difference." He doesn't mention names but everyone knows he's talking about George and Lemon. They've been seen fighting twice in town, something unheard of before. "Besides, it was always nice to have someone to blame when something in the surgery goes wrong."
Wade stares at Brick. How can Brick be saying that he misses Zoe? Next Lemon will be crying on the street, wailing for Zoe Hart to return.
"Okay!" Wade's voice makes everyone in the bar pay him attention. "Zoe is in Boston! She's happy! She's been and gone! We always knew that was going to happen. This town is a whole lot better off." He waits for someone to say something, but everyone is silent. As if they're waiting for him to say something else, something big or meaningful – something revealing. Instead he storms back into the storage room, partly because they need more bottles and partly because he needs a breather.
He finally checks his phone. His heart skips a beat when he sees MISSED CALL: ZOE and VOICEMAIL: ZOE. With no hesitation he listens to the message.
"Hey Wade. It's me. I mean, it's Zoe." There's a pause and Wade holds his breath. He can tell the second he heard her voice that something was wrong. "I'm okay – I hope you are. I...I just...I wanted to apologise for not saying goodbye. It was stupid and selfish of me and..." Another pause and he can tell she's struggling. "And I also wanted to say sorry for that night...during the race. I didn't mean to hurt you, but that's no excuse for what I did. I'm sorry." The message ends there. Wade swears – he needs to hear more. He could be wrong, but he thinks she was crying.
He knows Zoe, and from her voice he can tell she's unhappy.
He told the people in the bar that Zoe was happy. That was why they needed to leave her alone. So what if she isn't happy? What position does that put him in?
"Shelley," he says as he gets back to the bar. "I need you to cover for me."
"What?" Shelley whirls round. "I can't handle all these customers by myself! I need some help."
"I'll help," Tom volunteers from his seat with Wanda, who is nodding enthusiastically. In his scramble upwards he's knocked himself and the chair down.
"You can't leave me here," Shelley says with a little more desperation.
"I have to."
"Why?"
Wade glances at Rose and then move to Lavon. With a martyred sigh that he finally feels he deserves, he says, "I need to catch a flight to Boston. I need to get Zoe back."
He doesn't realise more people have been listening until a cheer goes through the bar. Rose flings herself from the bar stool, jumping like an excited puppy; Shelley has done a hundred and eighty degree turn, telling him to get going and asking what the hell he is still doing here? Brick is already on his phone checking when the next flight is leaving; Dash is talking hurriedly in his recorder, his eyes darting about in excitement; Anna-Beth is offering help Wade pack; and Lavon is just sitting there, grinning like the self-righteous bastard he is. It's then Wade realises he's known this would happen all along, he always knew Wade would go after Zoe. But Wade can't even get mad at him for not telling him. The truth is Wade wouldn't have listened until now – until he heard her voice.
He doesn't have time to think; he has to pack a few things and worry about catching the plane. It's only at the airport does Lavon hand him a piece of paper. It's such a rush that Wade manages to get on the plane just before it takes off. He finally looks at the piece of paper when they're in the air. It has Zoe's address on it and the hospital that she works at. And the words good luck.
xXx
It's the day of Kate Ellis' surgery. Zoe is working with her father again, his second in command. She scrubs up but catches sight off them putting Miss Ellis under. She feels a little bit of tension in her chest, and forces herself to take deep calming breathes. She'll be fine. Miss Ellis' heart injury is serious, but that's when Zoe Hart brings her A-game.
In the surgery room she's opposite her father, practically pressed against other surgeons. It's going well. For the first part she's doing fine – better than fine. She's performing as good as anyone, if not better. She's instructed to close a valve, a procedure that she's done countless times.
That's when she freezes.
"Zoe." Her father is impatient. "Close the valve."
"I can't." It's a whisper and a hiss. She realises her heart is pounding as if she's running a marathon – and knowing that she's going to lose.
Her father glances up at her; his blue eyes are wide. "What?"
"I can't," she repeats. She's like a record, stuck on those two words. Everything around her is blurred – it's moving too fast. Her breathing is erratic. It all just needs to slow down.
"I'll do it," another surgeon pipes up.
"No," Ethan says. "Zoe – close the valve. You need to do it now."
When she looks up at him, he sees her: the little girl she was when she fell out of that tree when she was ten years old and broke her arm. So scared, so weak and vulnerable, waiting for him to do something to make it better.
He swears under his breath and takes over, telling her to leave the room. She does so willingly, and she's never been more relieved to be out of the room. She pushes out those doors and takes a gulp of air as if she's just left a smelly prison cell. She collapses on a seat and strips off her face mask and hat. With a shaking hand she covers her eyes. She forces herself to breath slowly, and as she does so the feeling that she's going to vomit subsides.
She used to love being in the mask and hat; love operating and knowing what she was doing. Surgery... It's the one thing she's good at. She's been in countless operating theatres. She's never frozen before.
First time for everything.
Her father bursts out the room about an hour later. Zoe is still there. With a finger he motions her into an empty conference room and shuts the door. Taking off his items of clothing he slaps them on the table before turning to Zoe. "What happened in there?" he demands.
Eyes on the floor, she lifts a shoulder. "I froze." Her voice is filled with shame. Good surgeons don't freeze.
"I know that," he snaps. "You made that obvious to everyone in the operating theatre. What I want to know is why."
Zoe purses her lips together and glances up. "I know her. Kate Ellis."
"Of course you know her," he says impatiently. "She's your patient. I know her too, her stats-"
"Not that," Zoe says softly. "I know that she used to live in Birmingham. I know that she has two sons and a daughter, and her daughter moved her here to Boston. She was there when Martin Luther King was there. She has a cat called Sammy. She – she was worried that her daughter wasn't looking after him properly." She ducks her head. "I know this patient Dad. I know her. And I couldn't separate the person she is from the body I was operating on. I couldn't." She holds a hand to her hand. "I was terrified that if I made a mistake, I would kill her."
Ethan stares at her for a weighted moment. "You can't care about patients."
"I know-"
"You can't care about them," he repeats. "You can't Zoe! Once you start caring about them, that's it. You're done!"
"I know," she says.
"We've worked on this Zoe. Don't go cold on me now! For heaven's sake I stuck my neck out for you. I convinced the people here to take you on! This wasn't to help me, this was to help you! For God's sake Zoe, you can't care about them! You need to stop this now."
There's silence as his words ring true. It's only broken by another voice: a soft, lazy southern drawl.
"I don't think she can." Zoe closes her eyes and listens. His words, they're soft and smooth like warm maple syrup. "The truth is Zoe can't stop caring. That's why she had me out in the woods looking for her when she was searching to fix up a dead man's leg; she came to her enemy's engagement party to help a woman who had told no one else she was pregnant; she didn't go home for Thanksgiving because a little boy didn't want to be a pirate anymore and she wanted to make him better. She's always cared, and that's one of the things I lo-that I really don't want to change about her." She hears footsteps approach and she opens her eyes. And like magic, there he is, Wade Kinsella. He's wrapped in a coat and he looks oddly out of place, but his gentle, southern grin is still there. And she thinks, thank God.
"Quite frankly," Wade admits staring down at her, "I wouldn't have her any other way."
Before Zoe can even register what she's doing, she leaps from the seat and hugs her. It's probably the first time she's ever hugged him. She can honestly say she wishes she had done it sooner. He smells of alcohol and coffee, but there's something else deeper down there. He smells of Bluebell, Zoe realises, and it comes with such a sweet joy that she can't deny her feelings any longer.
Boston isn't home. Bluebell is.
She lifts her head to him. His brown eyes are peering down at her, and she can see him scanning her face. "Can you stay the night?" she whispers.
A corner of Wade's mouth lifts. "Really?"
She shakes her head, but it's a good shake of the head, a smile on her face. "Don't get cocky." It's an unfortunate choice of words but it makes Wade chuckle. She takes his hand and begins to lead him out the room. The two of them complete ignore her father. It's only partly spiteful; in truth they're so caught up in each other that they don't really notice him.
In the taxi Zoe doesn't bother to pull away. Still holding on to his hand she leans turns to him, head gently leaning against his shoulder. "I must have lost my mind," she murmurs, "but I'm unbelievably relieved that you're here."
It's all that Wade could have asked for. He doesn't even bother to respond. He simply smiles and squeezes her hand a little tighter.
xXx
The apartment is a mess. Zoe hasn't really had any time to tidy it; any spare minute is spent – was spent – working at the hospital. Now she feels ashamed: a fine layer of dust is everywhere and three day old dishes are still soaking in the sink. Some pairs of underwear are on the floor and she tries to discretely hide them. Wade sees though and, him being Wade, says, "Nice underwear. I like the butterflies."
"Shut up," Zoe says. But there's little annoyance in her voice. In fact there's some happiness in it. She didn't realise how much she actually missed him. Even his sarcastic comments, his digs at her, are received with hidden glee.
"Do you want something to drink?" she asks. She goes to the cooler. "We have red wine or...whisky." Zoe turns her head. "I'm sorry; I don't have a lot of food here. I don't usually eat in."
Wade shakes his head. "Whisky's fine." He watches as Zoe gets the glasses out and shakes his head. He takes her by surprise by grabbing her from behind and lifting her out the way.
"Hey!"
"I'm the bartender, not you." He turns his head a little, smirking at her. "Knowing you half of it would go on the counter."
"Are you saying I'm a klutz?"
Wade glances almost open-mouthed at her. "Are you telling me you're not? Remember the time you came into the bar and missed your seat?"
As soon as the words are out his mouth the two of them feel the air heat up. That night they were going to have sex; they almost did. And now here they are, alone in her apartment. No one in Bluebell is going to appear and stop them. They are free to let fate, karma, or whatever controls them loose.
He hands her the glass of wine and they both move to the sofa. It's awkward and small – Zoe herself can just fit on it – and so the two of them are pressed closer to each other. They smile shyly at each other. Zoe breaks the tension because she has one question practically bursting from her lips. "How's Bluebell?"
Wade tells her. He first tells her of Lavon and Rose, the two people she's most desperate to hear about. He tells her how Lavon takes part in the charity football game and how he loses to a sixth grader; and how Frederick Dean is spending a lot of time with Rose. He tells her about Anna-Beth dating a man from the grocery store after breaking up with the hardware owner, about the number of skunks that Tom brought into town and stank up the place for days, and the latest gossip about the new ice cream shop that's opening up.
The only time they stumble is when Wade brings up George. "They've broken up I think," Wade says unwillingly. He doesn't want to talk about George, but he knows he won't be able to hide the information.
Zoe's brown eyes are sympathetic. "Oh," she says softly. She heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry about that."
Wade narrows his eyes at Zoe. "Seriously?" he says disbelievingly.
She rolls her eyes but after a beat she nods. She doesn't really want to talk about this, but she knows it'll mean more to Wade than to her. "I don't care about George anymore." She says her name and her stomach doesn't flutter. It's a relief: finally she's over him. "I've finally seen him for who he really is."
She was intending to leave it at that, but Wade leans forward. "What do you mean?" he asks. His words are soft but the eagerness is obvious. Wade's a shit poker player.
She realises he needs more and after what George has put her through, she's not going to protect him. Those days are over. "He's someone who can't decide between two girls and wants to have them both. I could see myself doing crazy things for him and him still running back to Lemon." She giggles in the end, telling him, "I threw red wine over him." She hasn't really been able to tell anyone this and now she feels the pleasure of having someone else hear it.
"That's it?"
She stops giggling. "What do you mean 'that's it'?"
"Couldn't you have at least slapped him?" He glances down at her hands. "Then again those wouldn't do much."
"I'll have you know these hands could slice you open."
"No; a knife or a scalpel could slice a person; you would just be able to do it more neatly."
She pulls a face at him. "Careful or I'll chuck this red wine over you."
"I'm so scared," Wade replies teasingly, but he doesn't push it.
They don't talk much after that. That was the intention, but Zoe begins to fall asleep. Her eyes flutter now and again until finally she begins to drift. His voice is as warm as a breeze in a Bluebell autumn, as soothing as the sound of the ocean waves caressing the beach. She can believe that he is a good singer. She imagines what it would be like to sing her to sleep. Her mind becomes uncontrollable in a doze, dreaming of Wade singing to her while he holds her against his bare chest...
Wade watches her for a few minutes. He's never seen Zoe when she's not yelling at him or doing something incredibly crazy. It's only now he notices that how tired she looks: she has purple bags under her eyes; she's unusually pale; and looks like she could used a big breakfast at the Rammer Jammer. He waits until she appears to be in a deep sleep before taking the precarious glass of wine out of fingers and places it down on the table. He then gently cradles her in his arms, as if he's protecting a little child.
The bedroom is only a stone's throw away, but he could have carried her back to Bluebell because she's so light. He places her on the unmade bed. Zoe stirs a little but other than that she stays asleep. He can't keep his eyes off her. It's as if he's afraid she'll disappear, take off and leave like she did the last time.
After an hour or two he's about to go to the sofa to get to sleep when he pauses. His eyes go to the bed, which could easily fit him. The sofa would be fine for someone like Zoe, who's small enough to be able to sleep comfortably. But he's too tall.
A smile creeps up on his face. He is Wade Kinsella after all.
xXx
When Zoe wakes up, ironically she thinks that she's dreaming: Wade is in her bed, snuggled up to her. Zoe can't decide whose fault it is that they're so close, because even though it's his arms that are wrapped round her like a rope, she's the one who's leaning against his chest. His bare chest, because this is Wade and he can't help show off his chest at every chance he gets (though Zoe has to admit, it is pretty magnificent). It's stupid but it takes her another moment to realise that she's practically naked too, only in her underwear.
She allows herself to savour this moment – like someone having the first taste of strawberry ice cream. Then she roughly pinches him awake.
"Ah!" Wade says, instantly waking up.
"What are you doing in my bed?" Zoe demands. Her voice is firm and indignant, but she doesn't fight his arms round her. Not yet.
Wade grabs the pillow and pulls it over his head, but only with one arm. "Sleeping," comes his muffled voice from underneath it. He appears to be wanting to go back to sleep, but Zoe is certain that his eyes are wide open, watching her.
"Last time I checked, we were on the couch."
"You fell asleep. It wouldn't have been gentlemanly to leave you on the sofa."
"It would have been gentlemanly to have slept on the couch. Or at least kept your clothes on." She hopes he has some underwear on.
He gives her his sweet all-American-boy smile. "I think we would have been uncomfortable."
She gives a snort of disbelief and decides that it's time they shouldn't be so close. She starts to move away, getting up from the bed. Wade won't let her go that easily though; he moves up and is suddenly above her. Before she can blink he is on top of her.
Her heart is pounding. She's pressed against the mattress; his legs are on either side of her, leaving her no option for escape. She can't look anywhere but him: his glorious chest, the necklace that he always wears (she needs to ask him about that), his cocky, taunting face staring down at her. Teasingly he thrusts his hips a little, trying to fight off laughter at the sight of Zoe's face. He bends his head awkwardly so it's lingering above hers, barely any space between their lips.
Zoe cannot move. She cannot breathe. Her brain cannot process what is happening.
"Sweetheart," he says broadly, "I could easily make you comfortable. I could make you very comfortable." He holds his position, watching Zoe. She doesn't take her eyes off his face, her stomach moving up and down.
He can feel her desire. He can taste it.
He snorts, not bothering to hide his grin. He's not going any further than this – he's already toed the line. He swings one leg off the bed, about to get off and go to the bathroom.
But a few seconds later it's him who's surprised.
This time it's Zoe who grips Wade. She uses his shock as an advantage and swings him to the other side of the bed (thank God it's big enough). They're in the exact same position as they were, only this time it's Zoe on top of him.
Wade's face is stunned. For once his sweet face isn't mocking or teasing. She's one upped him and she takes a moment to feel glee at this. But that's not what she's focussing on. Instead she mimics his moves, thrusting her hips – an action she's rarely used – and leaning her head down, hovering above his.
But she prides herself on going further.
She knows what she's doing. She knows that she's going to take a jump off the cliff and she doesn't know how well she'll land. She doesn't know whether she's doing this because she's homesick or because she's missed him or – but maybe that's the point though. Maybe because she's missed him she wants to be with him.
She delicately touches her lips to his. It isn't passionate, not really. Their lips are simply meeting, as if they're at a cocktail party. It feels nice. Nice. That's not the type of word to use for this – this feeling of relief, the burning tension that she didn't realise was in her chest, her legs, her arms, her head, everywhere, finally being freed. After over eight, nine months of them meeting, feeling and doing nothing about it, they're together.
She pulls away and reaches behind her. Wade's eyes flutter as he stares at her in disbelief. She unclips her black bra and throws it to the ground. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at the sight of his face.
"Zoe," he says as if he's gasping for air. "What are you doing?"
She halts, her eyes flying to his face. Doubt floods her suddenly – shit, what has she done? "Do you want me to stop?"
"Do you want to stop?"
They grin at each other and they are conspirators. This time as she bends down he meets up in the middle and they kiss. His arms pull her in, pressing their bodies together.
It feels so good that Zoe wants to laugh and cry all at once. Simply because this is what she wanted, what she's always wanted. Being a surgeon, a good doctor – all of that has paled in comparison to what she's feeling right now, being wrapped in Wade's strong arms. It's like the success of doing surgery well, but more. It's like...fireworks; it's like being on the downward trend of a rollercoaster, yet without the fear.
He is gentle with her, despite a few nips at the breasts (she retaliates with a bite on the ear). It's a good thing really: she hasn't had sex for a long time (actually it's longer than she'd care to admit as she wouldn't really call the last few times sex; it was more just five minutes in the storage closest since neither she nor her ex had a lot of time) and she's a little rusty. But it's good – better than good really – and it seems that Wade is enjoying himself too with the sounds he is making.
When they're finished she collapses on top of him. Her head rests against his warm, beautiful chest and he brings his arms round her. He presses his lips to her head, kissing her a few times – really he's kissing her hair. She thinks that maybe those kisses are a thank you. She knows he's wanted this longer than she has.
Now that they've had sex though she's realised how much she actually wanted this.
She's falls asleep quickly again. It makes more sense since the sun's only just risen. But he doesn't actually mind. It allows him time to watch her again, something he'll probably have very little of later. After all, he doesn't know what this means. Is this the beginning of a relationship? Or is it just in the heat of the moment?
And more importantly, which does he want?
He's never really been the relationship type, not after Tansy and that pointless marriage (even now neither of them can agree on whose idea the marriage was; Wade suspects it was hers as marriage has never been part of his life plan). He wouldn't particularly mind having a "friends with benefits" arrangement. But then what if George and Lemon actually broke up and he chased after Zoe? George wouldn't settle for just having sex with Zoe, and he wouldn't tolerate Zoe seeing Wade. That would more than likely leave him in the Rammer Jammer watching George and Zoe have dinner in the evening. And it wasn't just George: what if Judson became interested again? And of course there were other guys in Bluebell – and any guy with brains will be able to see she's a catch.
It occurs to Wade then that she hasn't exactly said she's coming back to Bluebell – he had simply taken it as a given.
He grips hold of Zoe tighter, bending down and brushing his lips against her head again. Well, he'll just have to convince her.
xXx
The second time Zoe wakes up that morning, she's alone. The bed feels empty without another person in it now, as if she's missing a limb. The initial pain makes her feel like she actually has lost one.
She throws the covers off the bed and begins to walk into the kitchen until she remembers she's wearing no clothes. She throws on her sleek nightgown (not the tatty one) before sliding the doors open.
She doesn't drop to the floor, but that's only because she's holding onto the doors.
Wade is in the kitchen, cooking. She's never seen Wade cook – after all he always goes to Lavon's for breakfast. Yet here he is, standing above the stove as if he's Gordon Ramsey (the sad thing is she's not even sure that he knows who Gordon Ramsey is).
When he turns to her, it's perhaps the most delicious sight she's seen in a while. It helps that he's not covering his chest and the only item of clothing he's wearing are boxers.
"Finally," he says. "I was about to wake you. Couldn't stand another moment of your snoring."
Zoe tears her eyes away from his body. "I do not snore!"
Wade rolls his eyes. "Yes you do, but I could video tape you doing it and you still wouldn't believe me." He nods to the table, which has been freshly scrubbed. "Take a seat."
She raises an eyebrow. "This is my apartment."
"You wouldn't know it," he mutters. The place barely looks as if anyone lives here: there aren't many personal items and the place isn't that clean. Her room in Bluebell had more personality than the apartment did. He throws some food on a plate and places it in front of Zoe. "Here. Have this as a starter."
She stares at the food. "Fruit?" Her face shows what she thinks of that idea.
"It's healthy," Wade says, for once on his high horse. "You're the doctor." Zoe rolls her eyes but picks up a grape and pops it into her mouth.
"Where did you get this food?"
"Y'see, I did this thing that you may have heard of. It's called shopping."
"You actually ventured down the streets of Boston?" Zoe watches him in a little amazement. "How did you not get lost?"
Wade doesn't even bother to retaliate; he's a little nervous. He's about to make a romantic gesture, and Wade Kinsella doesn't do romantic gestures, so he's not entirely sure how to play it. Even though he's nervous he still turns round and puts the plate down in front of her.
Zoe's eyes move down to it and she pauses. It's pancakes, large and thick, but that's not what she's looking at. Instead she's looking at the pattern the blueberries are set out on. The words COME HOME are sprawled across the pancakes like a high-class lover.
She looks back at Wade, eyes wide and curious.
She wasn't going to speak but he doesn't even give her the chance. Instead he blurts out his words. "Look, I know this was the plan – being a surgeon and all. But you're not happy here Zoe, I know you're not. You need to come back to Bluebell. It's your home. Everyone misses you – even Brick." Zoe gives a little snort of disbelief. "No, it's true. We all want you back. Especially Lavon and Rose."
"That's not fair!" Zoe jumps in. Her eyes glitter darkly. "You're trying to guilt me into coming back."
"It's the truth," says Wade, though he has to admit that was the idea. He takes a deep breath, attempting to clear his head. "We all want you home Zoe. Please come back."
Zoe peers up at him through her perfect eyelashes. She's smiling softly: her cheeks are high when she smiles, making her look even more beautiful. Wade finds himself picturing one of those patterned glass windows that he saw once when he was little in the church. He was too young to understand the whole religious part; all he saw were the colours beaming through, so pretty and glittering. He sees that when he sees Zoe. "I'm already home."
The words knock Wade down like a thundering ton of bricks. He stares at Zoe before heaving himself off the chair. "I knew it," he seethes. His voice rises like steam. "Nothing's changed, has it? You're still thinking of yourself all the time, never mind the fact that everyone in Bluebell is desperate for you back. Don't know why! I can't believe I came all this way and you've still said no. What is it about Boston that's so great?" He flings the question out like a stone but doesn't wait for an answer. "Is it high-tech enough for you? Not like backwards ol' Bluebell is it? It's high class enough for Miss Zoe Hart to live in." He is pacing, and now he whirls round on his heel to face Zoe. "What was that?" he snarls, pointing towards the bedroom. "Just a pity-"
"Shut up Wade," snaps Zoe. She can take the rest of it, but not him talking about the sex they had just a few hours ago. "It wasn't like that at all. I slept with you because I-" She cuts off sharply, perhaps not quite ready to go there. She wishes Wade would stop looking at her like that though, highly curious and equally furious to know the truth. Taking a deep breath she says, much more calmly, "That wasn't what I meant."
"What then?" he asks.
Zoe glowers at his demanding tone. "What I meant was that I feel at home with you, you jackass!"
For a moment she watches Wade's face...well, more or less deflate. It wasn't what he was expecting, not at all. Suddenly she cannot stand looking him. She whirls round and goes towards the door. She feels like she's said too much – who the hell knows what Wade's feeling? Zoe isn't good with her feelings, and she doesn't like showing her deck of cards.
She almost makes it. As she's about to grab the door handle and get outside (she hasn't thought about the fact she's only in a dressing gown) she feels hands on her hips. She cries out in surprise as Wade pulls her back. In a fit of anger she struggles against him. In that moment she can't believe she's been that stupid to say that to him – Wade. Of all people!
But it's true. She didn't realise until she saw him again, but she's missed him. She's missed him more than anyone else in Bluebell, even Lavon and Rose. She missed the way they would fight when she blew the fuse – somehow he seems to get her blood boiling and words that she doesn't mean flying from her mouth. She's never met anyone that could do that to her – not her ex, not George, not anyone. She missed his cheeky little comments, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long, coming towards her with that confident smirk, slapping her butt. She missed him coming through for her: driving her to the airport when she was going away for thanksgiving, finding her when she was looking for Leon Mercy, carrying her back to the practice after she'd been bitten by the snake. She missed that smile of his, slow and uncertain, toasting his face when he was surprised.
She wonders how long she has been in love with Wade Kinsella.
She wants to hit him, but he grabs her arms. "Jesus Zoe, stop it!"
Finally he holds her arms still. He can't believe it's actually taken him this long to stop him from fighting her – for God's sake he's strong enough to carry her. But eventually he manages to stop her and lifts her chin to his face. He doesn't kiss her – he thinks she'll bite his tongue off if he tries. So he does the next best thing.
"I'm sorry," he apologises. The fire dies a little at his apology. He thinks this might be the first time he's said he's sorry, at least to her. "I'm sorry. I was angry. I didn't mean it." And he didn't. He was livid, but at her words he's calm again.
He's never heard anyone say that before.
They keep eye-contact with each other. The gaze is full is double-meanings and unsaid feelings. Slowly Zoe moves her hands down, but Wade doesn't let go. It's not to stop her from attacking him again. He doubts she will. But he doesn't want to let go of her.
"What do you want?" she asks.
He doesn't answer right away. "What do you mean?"
She looks up at him, her eyes filled with – what was it? Need? Worry? Sadness? "I'm not the type... I don't want to have one night stands strung together. I don't want to see you leading another woman to your bed. It's not me."
His face is uncertain. "I've never had a relationship like that," he murmurs. "I mean, there was a few girls for a month or two and there was Tansy – and look how that turned out."
She feels her heart sink. What does she do now? Does she settle for what she can get, put up with the hurt? Or does she let him go? Does she watch him with other girls? Will she wait for him to change?
When he sees her face, balancing on the edge of heartbroken, he feels his brain and heart – for once – join together. He knows what he needs to do, and for the first time in a long time it coincides with what he wants to do too. He brings her hands back up, to his chest. "Okay." The words sound tender, so unlike him.
She glances up at him. "Okay?" she asks. She tries to hide it, but the hope is obvious in those dark eyes of hers.
"Okay," he firmly replies. He squeezes those small hands. "I don't know how good I'll be at this – you've seen what I'm like." He sighs, finally catching her gaze – and that face. And he thinks that she'll be worth it. "But I'm willing to try if you are."
Zoe can't take her eyes off him. "You and me?" she asks just to be certain.
"You and me." Realising it may not be enough, he says, "For you, I'll try."
She smiles then. It's been a long time since she's smiled like that – as long as she's been in Boston for that matter – a smile that is filled with success; filled with knowing that someone wants you, someone will be with you no matter what. He returns it when he sees that, and with them both smiling they laugh a little.
With confidence she pulls him towards her and kisses her. This kiss is different to the one they shared in bed. It's a little more passionate, with the shared joy that they are together – finally, against all the odds and everything else.
It's a thank you.
xXx
The windows are rolled down. Zoe is wearing a lacy white top and – with a grin at Wade – denim shorts. Her hair is taken down and she's got her favourite sandals on. She is wearing sunglasses. As they drive Zoe lets out little squeals as she sees things that she thought she'd never see again – such as the bus stop when she first arrived here. Wade's given up telling her to stop it (he's nearly driven into a tree because of her squeals) and now he smiles at her when she does it.
In the end it didn't take long. Zoe had a surprisingly little amount of items that she's collected since she's been in Boston. She sells the apartment easily, especially since she allows them to have all the furniture too. The only issue she had was telling her father.
"Was it hard?" Wade asks later. We're on the plane, travelling back home. The arm rest that separates us is up and I am leaning against him. He has one hand in my hair (he loves it, playing with the ends and pressing his nose against it all the time) and another in my hand. His fingers are cupped between mine, and every now and then we sway our hands, always if we're dancing.
I think of Dad's eyes as they go a dull gold when I tell him I'm not staying in Boston. How he argues with me, tries to persuade me to stay. How he doesn't listen to me when I say my heart isn't in it anymore. "It's complicated," I explain. "My father and I have a difficult relationship."
"Because you don't want to be a surgeon?"
"And the fact he didn't want to be my father after he found it he wasn't biologically." I raise my head, smiling softly at him, not able to believe how much he cares. I kiss his chin. Usually I don't go for guys with stubble which Wade has grown a little of, but somehow it works with him. "Forget it," I whisper. I just want to focus on him.
But he can't let go of it. "Listen," he says quietly, so serious that it makes my heart stop. Is this bad news? "I know I pressured you to do this, but if it's not what you want then..." He shakes his head. "I don't want to go through this again."
He's making less sense than usual; I shake my head. "What are you saying?"
He holds his hands up quickly. "I just don't want you to give up your dream."
I sit up, making sure that I've got my eyes on his face. "I always wanted to be a surgeon. Ever since I was five or six years old. I worked for years towards that goal. And I thought I'd achieved it when I got here.
"But then... I don't know. When I finally started being a surgeon, operating, I found myself missing my office in Bluebell. I missed talking to people like I do in Bluebell. I couldn't separate myself from the patient's pain." I falter as a realisation hits me, not for the first time. "I was miserable.
"But that's the thing," I say, gaining enthusiasm. "It's not just these few months in Boston that I've been miserable. I think I've been unhappy for years, before I came to Bluebell – I just never realised it until now. I've only been happy when I've been in Bluebell, with the practice and Rose and Lavon – and you." She takes his hand and Wade squeezes it. It sends such pleasure through her that she can't explain it. "Being a surgeon doesn't make me happy. Being back in Bluebell, being one of the doctors there – that makes me happy."
"And?" His mouth quirks upwards as the charmer, but his eyes have a certain hopefulness in them.
"And Lavon, and Rose, and Shelley and a lot of people in Bluebell."
"And?" he repeats, his face moving towards mine.
I give in. I'm not a great liar, especially not when it comes to Wade. "And you," I murmur. I kiss him again. For a few minutes we stay the same way; I only pull away when I realise that other people are watching us as if we're the daily news. An older woman gives them us a knowing smile and averts her eyes.
"Not here," I whisper. My nose is against his; I feel my heart rest and run at the same time as I feel the conflicting emotions of desire and comfort.
He gives a groan. "Can't we join the mile high club?" he begs. I think he's joking because of the light in his eyes.
I am scandalised, but it's exaggerated. I slap him on the chest. "I'm not that type of girl," I respond. But I lean against his shoulder, inhaling his scent (I am unable to keep away it seems) and I can tell he doesn't regret what he said. He can't keep the smile off his face.
"Where are we going?" Zoe demands. "I thought we were going to see Lavon!"
"We are," he promises, turning in the wrong direction. "But I need to stop at the Rammer Jammer first to pick something up."
"Do you think he'll be there?" she asks. She supposes they could stop by, seeing some of her other friends.
"They're having a private party," Wade says. He parks outside the bar. She can hear music coming from the inside but she can't hear the people. Must be a bunch of quiet grannies, she thinks.
"Are you coming?" Wade asks. He slides over the bonnet of the car like a little boy, nearly screwing up the landing. But instead of rolling her eyes like she would have done before she laughs. Love changes the smallest behaviours in people. He opens the door and tugs her out.
"What's the point?" she asks.
"You can at least see the bar." He brings her towards him and kisses her temple. "Two minutes," he says, leading her in.
They step through the doors, which are closed – must be to ward people from entering who aren't invite. It's a little dark so Zoe has to rely on Wade. He throws the doors open with a sudden movement that it makes Zoe jump a little. But that's nothing: what stuns her is the sheer amount of people. There are so many that she can't see them all, can't even think to count them all. All of the faces, smiling at her, grinning widely and cheering and clapping. All of them are underneath a large banner that says WELCOME HOME DOCTOR HART.
"Welcome back Zoe!" various voices call out. Zoe glances to Wade; he's grinning and laughing, staring at her as if she's the star. She turns back to the amount of people, all here for her. She didn't know that this many people cared about her; didn't know she could count all of these people as friends. She has friends. She feels tears unwilling appear in her eyes, but she can't stop them this time. Wade pulls her towards him and she hastily wipes her eyes hiding under his arm.
"Zoe!" Rose appears at her side. Zoe's never been so happy to see her: bright eyes behind her glasses and red cheeks. She grabs Zoe and hugs her. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Rose," Zoe says, pushing her back, but not unkindly. "I am so sorry. I should have realised-"
Rose holds up her hands. "Don't even go there," she says, so stern that Zoe has to be reminded that she's the adult. "You can't be a doctor all the time. I know that a bad stomach ache is the result of an appendicitis – my mom does, so does my dad. It's just as much their fault as anyone's." She squeezes Zoe hand. "I don't blame you. Besides, it may have been a bad thing but the results were good – Fredrick Dean and I-"
Zoe feels herself being pulled away before Rose can finish. "What about-" she calls back, but she is already out of earshot.
"Zoe!" Anna-Beth pounces on her. "I'm so glad your back!"
"So am I," Zoe says, laughing. She feels a rush of love for her: Anna-Beth, this lovely, wonderful, heartfelt girl – her friend. "How've you been?"
There is something different in Anne-Beth's smile. It's brighter, not as fake as the one before, and it fully reaches her eyes. She's glowing. Before Zoe can bring the symptoms together she bursts out, "I'm pregnant!"
"What?" Zoe is stunned. "But – with who?" She remembers she almost missed her flight because she went back to talk with her about her husband leaving her.
"His name's Jeremy – from the grocery store. I was scared at first, but Jeremy is a good man and he's decent, and he promises he's gonna look after me and the baby." Tears bloom in her eyes and she wipes them away. Zoe finds her eyes watering (again? My God how many times can she cry?) and she hugs Anna-Beth.
Anna-Beth goes to the bathroom to fix her make-up, and Zoe's surrounded again. Tom wants to talk to her about his relationship with Wanda, which Zoe isn't look forward to, but she laughs and agrees anyway; Shelley says that she's found this new guy and she's debating about dating him; Dash wants the scoop on her time in Boston; the Reverend and his wife talk to her about going to church again, and Zoe's in such a good mood that she even agrees to help on the next Sunday morning with the pancake breakfast (when Sunday morning rolls round she'll regret that decision – and Wade too).
For a peaceful minute everyone is distracted by the food (a large buffet) coming in. It's interrupted by none other than Brick.
She smiles when he arrives. "Brick," she says. It's funny, but when she sees him she feels a little relief. It's nice to see him, well and fit. And he's even smiling as he comes towards her.
"How you doin' Doctor Hart?"
She glances round the room, feeling her heart swell at the sight of all these people. "I didn't know they cared," she whispers. She's refusing to cry again.
Brick shakes his head. "You still don't get it," he says, but his voice is soft. "The people in Bluebell care. Besides, you stayed long enough to get to know these people. Like it or not, you're one us know."
Zoe laughs, a little bubble from her mouth, coming from her own heart. She loves these people. She honestly does. When she first came to Bluebell she thought she wouldn't last a week – hell she's sure enough people thought the same. And here she is, being welcomed back in open arms. "You sound like the mafia," she says.
Brick laughs. "Yeah, I guess you could see it that way." He puts a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad your back."
"Honestly or not?"
Brick seems to think about this for a moment. "Yes. I know," he says, seeing the look on Zoe's face. "I would have thought I'd be the one throwing you a going away party, not a welcome back one. But things change."
"I didn't know they would have changed this much," she says.
Brick laughs. "I know. But it gets kinda lonely being the only doctor in the office, and the patient room builds up. It'll be nice to have someone to pick up the slack – and to yell at." He holds out a hand. "See you bright and early Monday morning?"
It's a question, one that Zoe happily answers. "Naturally." She takes his hand and shakes it. The two doctors smile and Brick moves on, going towards the bar.
"Who knew you and Doctor Breeland would get alon'?"
She closes her eyes for a moment before savouring the sound of his voice. He's the joint second person she missed when she was gone. Slowly she turns and opens her eyes to see him again. He's the same as always: tall as ever, smile on his face with the knowing twinkle in his eye.
"Lavon," she says.
He grins even wider. "Zoe."
In the next second the two are tight in a hug. Zoe is in tears yet again, almost bawling her eyes out. God she's missed him. There has been so many times when she has picked the phone and stared at his name, willing herself to call him, chickening out every time. So many times she wanted to ask him the questions her heart was pondering over; she was certain he would have the answer.
"I'm sorry-"
"No I'm sorry-"
"You were right Lavon. I was selfish and-"
"I don't care. I'm your best friend, and as your best friend, I should always be on your side."
"It's okay-"
"Enough apologising," Lavon says. He pulls away slightly but Lavon has a hand on her elbow. "I'm glad that you're back."
"I've never wanted to be anywhere else," she says, and she means it. Looking round she can't believe that she ever thought of leaving in this first place. The Rammer Jammer filled with people; she can imagine entering the bar and sitting down and ordering coffee and breakfast. She can picture Shelley coming over and giving her the latest scoop, of listening to Tom and his new scheme, of watching Wade working at the bar.
"How've you been?"
Lavon shrugs. "Not bad." His voice goes quieter. "Have you heard about Lemon and George?"
Zoe shakes her head. They're not here, but it's not like she expected them to be.
"They've broken up."
Zoe takes another look at him. "Is that a good thing?" She thinks of Lemon and Lavon, and wonders how the hell the two of them can actually be attracted to each other. But then... Zoe glances under her eye lashes at Wade, who's at the bar talking. She looks away before he can catch her staring. She's given too much away as it is.
Lavon shrugs. "I'm leaving it up to her," he explains. "I can't go rushing in after she's just broken up with someone." He gives her a look. "Is it a good thing for you?"
Zoe shrugs. "I don't really care what happens between George and Lemon anymore." At Lavon's stare she explains: "George visited me in Boston. I'm over him now."
She'll give him the full story soon enough. But why talk about him now? She doesn't want him any longer. She shoots another glance towards Wade, and this time he sees her looking. He grins and she feels a rush of happiness fill her, almost overtake her. That smile, his face, his laughter and his own happiness are all a part of her now; they make her happier than anything that she could get for herself. Both of them simply grin at each other, holding gazes for a moment. Zoe thinks she would like to watch him for a little while longer before Lavon speaks.
He's caught them staring. "Oh Lord," he murmurs. "Who would have thought hell would freeze over?"
"Shut up," she says, hitting him on the side. "C'mon, let's get some food before it's all gone." She takes his arm and leads him to the buffet – though it takes them about half an hour as people keep stopping and talking to them, telling her how glad they are to have her back and explaining what they've been up to. Before Zoe came to Bluebell she would have hated it. Now it's a bragging point.
xXx
Don't get her wrong, Zoe still has some questions:
Will her dad ever come around to her staying in Bluebell and not being a surgeon?
Is she doing better with her bedside manner or is that just wishful thinking?
Does Lemon blame her for what happened with her and George?
Is Lavon okay with everything that's happening with Lemon?
Will we all up happily ever after?
But she doesn't have time to think about them. She has to get up and go to surgery or help the reverend with his pancake breakfast, and of course ten minutes is taken up because every time she tries to get up Wade grabs her and pulls her back, complaining that she never stays in bed. She groans but ends up staying wrapped up in his arms a little longer – after all, these questions fade away when she's close to her home.
xXx
Not to guilt anyone, but... Tomorrow is my birthday and it would be nice to have some reviews to wake up to. ;-) Please and thank you!