Thank you all for the love on the first chapter. There will be plenty more to come, as this story does seems to be writing itself in ways.
Do enjoy!
"You are serious, right now? Right?" Wade asked, trying his hardest not to make any sudden movements. He didn't want his body to hate him anymore than it already did and his head wasn't fairing any better when he moved too fast.
"It would help if I knew what you were going on about," Zoe told him. After she explained to him how he should have been on a date with her friend, the room became quiet.
"The date," he whispered.
"Are you okay?" Zoe asked with a frown, getting up and moving around her desk to check on him.
"I'm peachy kin, Doc," Wade mumbled, amused with how concerned she is over his well-being. "You didn't know or want to be there, which does explain the sour attitude you had towards me, and I guess it'd only be right if I shared with you why I had been in such a bad way," he sighed, rubbing his face. Thinking back to that day, is still something that makes him cringe and sigh in relief.
"Oh no," Zoe said, quickly, backtracking to her desk, now that she knew nothing else is wrong with Wade. "That's not how this works. Under whatever the circumstances it was a date from hell, and we don't have to explain why it turned out that way," she told him, plopping down in her chair. She feared what she might feel for the man in her office if she learned the truth about the mood he had been in that night. She was serious when she told Gigi about it being a one-time thing.
"I know that I don't have to explain, but here I thought that we were on the same footing after months of butting heads," he snapped. "The nice thing would have been for you to hear me out, and maybe we could have moved past whatever this wall of hate is between us, but hey, I'm wrong again," he spit out, standing up slowly not wanting his world to tip on its side. "It's true; you can take the girl out of New York, but the snobby stuck up princess remains," he stated, walking out.
"Wade," she called after him, giving chase. "It's not like that," she tried to tell him, only he wanted nothing to do with her and refused to stop and listen to anything she had to say. "And where do you think you're going? You need to be supervised," she yelled as he started his descent down the sidewalk away from the practice.
"I'll crash at my brother's place, not that you really care," he quipped out, keeping his focus in front of him, hands being shoved into his front pockets as he walked.
Sighing Zoe headed back inside the practice, headed to her desk, once again watching the cursor on the screen blinked at her. She didn't mean to upset Wade and sure she could have phrased her words better. She wanted him to know that he didn't need to explain himself because she had done so. Though seeing his reaction of being told that he didn't need to share, she should have heard him out.
Her phone ringing pulled her out of her thoughts; she sighed tossing her phone back into her purse, not wanting to deal with the likes of her mother. It's not like she didn't know what her mom wanted from her. They talked in circles every time they talked.
"Bluebell general practice, Dr. Hart speaking," she answered the phone on her desk for the practice.
"What do you know; my daughter does know how to answer a phone," Candice said, sarcasm dripping from each syllable she spoke.
"Mother, what do I owe for this pleasant call?" Zoe sighed, leaning back in her chair, shutting her eyes.
"You owe me an explanation on why you're still in that horrible southern town and not home in New York?" Candice snapped at her daughter, wanting some answers.
"Simply put, I like it here," she told her mom, biting her lip.
"You've been gone for two months, liking that town can be done from the comforts of the city," Candice stated, cutting her daughter off.
"No mom, it can't," Zoe snapped. "Not only do I like being here, but I like who I am here," she smiled, thinking about how relaxed she's been in the last two months, other than when dealing with Wade, but he's a whole different story, or maybe the same one; she didn't know anymore.
"As your mother…"
"As my mother, you're going to let me do as I want, you don't control me and we both know why you don't want me to be here. I need answers that you can't give me," Zoe stated, her voice trailing off from being harsh to soft by the end.
"Zoe," Candice said, trying and failing at getting her thoughts into order.
"Don't," Zoe said, looking up to see patients enter the practice. "I've got to get back to work, bye Mom," she said, not waiting for her mom to say bye.
"Chuck, leave it be." Zoe flinched at the threat in the guys voice as she walked to the waiting room to see who needed what kind of help.
"Evening folks, I'm Dr. Hart, and do I want to know the full gory details?" She asked, looking at the teen who had a knife piercing his shoulder.
"More like stupidity details," an older woman sneered looking at her son. "My idiot of a son thought it would be oh so fun to have his friends throw knives at him for a stint on the equally stupid social media bullcrap. And they didn't even bother with using the fake knives. Oh no, they used my good ones," the mother huffed.
"Alright, if you'd follow me, we can see to getting the knife out, and you stitched up and on your way," Zoe stated.
She found out the kid with the knife in his arm is Chuck, and he wasn't doing the stunt for followers on social media or anything like that, he was trying to impress the girl he has a crush on and all he did was ruin his chance with her by messing up so badly. Zoe assured him it wouldn't be the end as girls do love scars, that gave Chuck all the hope he needed to know that he still had a chance to ask Judy to the Bluebell high school winter formal.
"Hard day?" Jesse asked, filling Zoe a glass of white wine.
"Understatement of the year," Zoe retorted, taking the glass happily.
"Bartenders are great listeners," he smirked, leaning on the counter.
Wade walked out of the bathroom, stopping short watching his brother and the one woman who had gotten under his skin in New York only to follow him to his home town of Bluebell, laughing. He thought he saw them flirting and the very real possibility of that happening, made his chest tighten. He rushed outside, going out the backdoor not wanting to be seen, needing some much-needed fresh air.
Not wanting to go back in there and deal with whatever was going on with his brother and the Doc, he headed home. He spent plenty of time being under surveillance; he'd be fine to go home and sleep in his bed and wake up every few hours. That made him think about the very real possibility of not being able to wake up. His brother along with the Doc were out, George and Lavon double dating, as funny as that might be to witness in person, wasn't worth the headache to deal with, especially when his head already hurts. His childhood room sounded less appealing than watching his brother try to flirt with what little game he thinks he has. So, really that purely left him with one option, because the rest of the people that claimed to be his friends, would simply drive him mad.
"Meatball," he grinned, stepping inside his friends' house, making himself right at home. "What's the game plan?" He asked, stealing a handful of chips.
"Uh duh horror movie marathon," Meatball laughed. "Help yourself to whatever," he said, pressing play on the movie. "Not that I am complaining about you being here, but why are you here?" He asked, grabbing his bowl of popcorn.
"Can't sleep," Wade shrugged. What better way to stay up all night than watch endless hours of horror movies, scaring yourself to remain awake for the next month or so?
"Insomnia, man," Meatball said, shaking his head.
Wade agreed, finding that he just didn't want to explain the whole concussion thing and what had led him into getting into a bar fight right before happy hour ever started. And he wasn't quite sure what was going on with Zoe. One minute he thought she looked stunning and then he wanted nothing more than to throw her off the Brooklyn bridge. And now he can see how Bluebell has mellowed her out or so he thought.
He wanted to share with her why he had been in such a funk for their blind date. He doesn't even care that the person he should've met on the blind date was someone else entirely. He wanted to make amends with Zoe. To be civil towards her. She proved that can't be possible.
"Dude you sure everything's alright?" Meatball asked, looking at his friend. Talking about emotions and personal junk hadn't ever been his forte. That didn't mean he couldn't tell when something's bothering his friend.
"I can go if you're gonna pester me about my feelings, can't a friend stop in and hang with a friend, when they're not drunk off their butts?" He asked, plunking the guitar that leaned on the wall next to the couch he sat on, giving the strings a lazy strum.
"We can call the boys and have a little fun," Meatball smirked, remembering back to the days of high school and the nights they spent making noise more than music in the early days of their band practice.
"And interrupt family night?" Wade chuckled. "I don't need that headache," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "One can't simply abandoned horror movie night," he smirked, leaning back on the couch, the guitar laying in his lap.
They sat watching horror flick after horror flick, making stupid comments about each scene that played out before them. Wade lost track of time, stretching his limbs out seeing that the sun was slowly starting to rise. That's when he called it making his way home.
"What can I do for you?" He asked, feeling far too tired to stir anything up with the person sitting on his porch.
"Where'd ya go last night?"
"You're my brother, not my keeper," Wade stated, taking a seat next to his brother, as he stretched out in the chair.
"Except for last night, as I was your keeper since you thought it a good idea to run off and get a concussion," Jesse pointed out. Wade scowled at his brother, closing his eyes, over listening to whatever his brother had to say. "And Zoe seemed pretty concerned about you."
"Yeah, okay," Wade snorted. "From where I stood it looked like you two were getting pretty chummy," he grumbled.
"Dude, I'm not her type," Jesse smirked, pushing himself up from the chair.
"Exactly, if she can't like you, a war hero, than she's too shallow for anyone in this town," Wade spat out.
"Don't get my words twisted little brother. I'm not her type, because you are," Jesse smirked, leaving his brother alone.
"You don't know what you're saying," Wade yelled after his brother's retreating form, getting loud chuckles in return.
Zoe looked between the two brothers, not quite sure she even wanted to know what's going on between them. It's weird enough to get a wink from Jesse as she walked by him, only to be met with an annoyed Wade.
"Do you want something?" Wade snapped, pushing his door open. "Be my guest to be a decoration on my porch," he smirked. "When you're ready for whatever it is you want, do come in," he offered, heading inside the gate house.
Zoe hot on his heels, shutting the door behind herself. She looked around quickly, taking note of the briefcase sitting open on the coffee table; a suit jacket hung over the back of a kitchen table chair, a tie and dress shirt laying over the back of his couch. The rest of the place looking cleaner than her own place.
"I want to apologize," she told him, standing awkwardly by the door.
"Come again, Doc?" Wade asked, stepping out of his bathroom, a pair of flannel lounge pants hanging low on his hips, his shirt tossed over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she told him clearing her throat, feeling her cheeks warm up at the way she had been checking him out. "I didn't word a few things right last night. I didn't want you to feel like you had to explain yourself because I had. You should only explain yourself if that's something you want to do. That date was four months ago, it shouldn't effect us the way it does," she explained.
"It shouldn't but it does," Wade nodded, grabbing his shirt to pull it on. "Do you think that maybe I wanted to tell you because it's what I needed to do, not because you had shared?" He asked her, motioning for her to have a seat.
"I didn't," she sighed, taking a seat on the couch. "Though I am listening if you want to share now, if not, I will see if you still have any symptoms of a concussion," she told him, looking down.
"That'd be great, Doc," Wade nodded, sitting on the coffee table in front of her. "Mind doing your exam as I tell you?" He asked. Zoe nodded, going into doctor mode.
"Why in the hell did I decide that being a lawyer in New York was what I needed to be?" Wade asked with a sigh, pulling on his tie. If it was the end of the day instead of lunch, he'd be taking the stupid thing off. He loved his work with all of his passion, he, however, hated the dress code.
"Because you wanted to make your parents proud, or more importantly, you did it for your mom," his long-time best friend spoke from behind him, making him jump slightly.
"No, really?" He gasped, falling into his chair, his head falling to his hands, sighing. "I gave up everything to be here and instead of being on my way to be made partner, like you, I have been told that I lose one more case I am out of here," he rattled off. "And do you know I would love that," he stated, looking at his friend. "I didn't want to be a lawyer in a big company for the rich; I wanted to be lawyer for the little guy, and here I am stories above where I should be," he said, pointing to the floor to ceiling windows behind him.
"No one said you can't be doing that, Wade. Sometimes it takes a while to get to where we need to be," George stated, making himself comfortable in one of the chairs in his friends' office. "It's not the first case you've lost; we've all lost cases, dude. And they know how valuable you are to this company. And honestly, I would turn down being made partner if they do ask," George confessed.
"That's all you've talked about, why turn down your dream?" Wade asked, wondering what could possibly happen in his friends' life that would make him change everything he's ever wanted in life as far as his career went.
"It's what my dad wants, and I thought I wanted it, but I don't. None of this is me. And I've been thinking about moving back to Bluebell," he shared.
"Lemon?" Wade questioned, giving his friend a very knowing grin.
"No, Annabeth," George smirked, getting up. He laughed at his friends' expression. "Talk to your brother more."
"Jesse isn't one for town gossip, neither am I," Wade frowned. The last thing he wanted to talk about when talking to his brother was the local town gossip, he asked about how his brother was handling the Jammer now that Wally signed off on selling Jesse the place after he came back from war. Love scandals wasn't talked about.
"Next time then," George laughed. He was going to let his friend stew in the unknown for a few hours. "Also I need a favor from you," he said hopefully.
"I'm not taking on any of your cases; I have too many of my own cases," Wade groaned, shaking his head. He's overworked himself; he hasn't seen the inside of his place in weeks other than his bed in passing.
"Oh no, that's not it," George chuckled with a little glint in his eye. "With the possibility of things with Annabeth, I need someone to go on my date, and I pick you," he smirked.
"George, what the hell!" Wade exclaimed, quickly following after his friend, storming into his office. "How can I go on your date?" He questioned.
"It's a blind date set up by Clark, and I had only agreed because I didn't see a way out of it," George told him.
"I can't possibly go on a blind date; I've got loads of work to do," Wade sighed, grabbing the back of a chair.
"Wade, I can't stress this enough you need to take some time off of work and focus on you before you burn out. You have the candle lit at both ends, and that's not a good thing. You don't have to walk out of tonight with a girlfriend, just go, relax and let the stress of work go for a night; you'll feel better in the morning; I swear," George pleaded with him.
"Fine," Wade grumbled. "Email me the details," he said, leaving his fiends office for his own, the email from George waiting for him.
