Rescue Me: A Bad Boy Military Romance by Vesper Vaughn

Author:Vesper Vaughn [Vaughn, Vesper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-12T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ELLA

“You could have told me that he was a counselor at the school,” I say to Alexa over popcorn and wine on my front porch. Dragonflies float by us lazily as the sun sets around us on this gorgeous Friday night.

“I thought you might want to see it in action for yourself,” she says, shrugging.

“The kids love him,” I say.

“I know. I can’t wait until Teddy gets him as a sub one day. He’s quite a catch. War hero, freaking gorgeous, good with kids, handyman.”

“And he can cook,” I say without meaning to.

“There you go,” Alexa replies. “The total package. If only he were interested in you – oh, wait. He is. He’s obsessed.”

My phone buzzes and I answer it without thinking. “Ella,” I say.

There’s breathing on the end of the line.

“Hello?” I say again. Alexa looks at me with concern. “Who is this?” I pull the phone away from my face and see Jason’s name there. I feel sick and set down my glass of wine. “Jason, stop calling me. I mean it. I’m sick of it. We’re over, done, finished with. I don’t want to hear from you again.”

“You will,” he says ominously. The line goes dead.

“He’s still calling you?” Alexa asks me.

“Yeah, he is,” I say. I realize I’m shaking and pick up my wine glass again. I take a huge sip of it, hoping the alcohol will calm me. “What is it with me and guys not letting me go?”

“Don’t conflate Jason with Luke,” Alexa says. “Luke did let you go. And he’s letting you take your time with him. Jason is…well. That’s not really what he’s doing, is it?”

She’s right. My hand shakes as I go to block his number. I hope that gives him the hint that I’m serious. I’m not entirely sure what else to do. Alexa changes the subject and I try to forget the phone call. But it haunts me even in my dreams.

I barely sleep that night, waking up at two in the morning and finally handwashing all of the empty casserole dishes the town’s brought me. Every single one of them has masking tape with the name of the owner written in permanent marker. After a few hours of washing, they are finally all clean. I strap them all to the back of my bicycle as the sun rises on a glorious Saturday morning and begin my trip around town.

It takes me five hours until I’m down to the last one, being that each person I stopped to see insisted that I come inside for a glass of sweet tea and a chat. At the second-to-last house, I feign a medical emergency for one of my patients so I can finally slip out the front door.

I hope onto my much-unburdened bicycle and pedal as hard as I can to the edge of town. A truck passes me on the way and I wave, coughing a little as the dust fills my lungs. I pedal harder, drenched in sweat. It occurs to me to be self-conscious but there’s no turning back now.

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