Her Hometown Hero(45)

"I need to go," she said. She dashed to her room and grabbed clothes. She had to get out of there right now.

"Sage, don't do this. Let's talk," he said through the door as she yanked her clothes on in record time.

"I don't want to talk," she said, flinging open the door and storming past him.

To his credit, he didn't try to grab her. "Do you love me, Sage?"

That stopped her. She turned toward him, her purse in her hand. "I don't  know how I feel, Spence. You move at the speed of lightning. One minute  you're telling me you want to move in together, and then before I can  even process that, you're telling me that our families feel we're meant  to be together. And then you tell me you love me and suggest that you  want to get married. I can't do this. I can't . . ." And it was true.  She just couldn't.

"It's simple, Sage. You either love me or you don't," he said, moving  closer but still respecting her very electrically charged personal  space.                       
       
           



       

"I don't know!" she said, her eyes burning. "I don't know," she said  again more quietly. Panic was starting to rise. "Nothing is simple."

"Just because someone else may have made plans for us, that doesn't make  what we feel toward each other any less real. I know how I feel, and I  know that I will always want you. Once I make a decision, I don't back  down. I'm strong enough to tell you how I feel. Are you strong enough to  accept what I'm offering?"

"No. I can't do this," she said, and practically ran to the door. She  glanced back to find his eyes not angry but determined as he watched her  leave. It wasn't rational, but she was overwhelmed. Her once orderly  life had just been thrown in total chaos and she needed to escape, to  regroup.

"I'm not giving up." Those words followed her out the door and to her  car. She realized she'd left him in her apartment, but she didn't care.  Getting away was her only thought.

She took pride in the fact that she was organized, that she made her own  choices, that even if she made mistakes, they were her mistakes. To  find out that her grandmother had stooped to games to find her a man was  humiliating. It also made her wonder if any of it was real.





Sage tripped as she walked up the steps to her apartment, and her short  heel snapped, making her fall to her knee. The impact cut into her  slacks and gave her a deep scratch.

"Son of a-" Managing to stop the swear word from coming out, she gritted  her teeth and stood up. This wasn't her day-not even close. Seriously  grumpy after enduring a fifteen-hour shift and missing the last two  meals, she finally managed to get the key in the door and open it.

She refused to admit to herself that her mood had been bad from the  beginning, its gloom and savagery only escalating when Spence hadn't  been at work for the second day in a row. Christmas was only a couple of  days away and she hadn't seen him since she stormed off after their  confrontation.

That's what she'd wanted, to get away from him. She wasn't going to be  controlled. He was giving her the space she'd requested, and that was  just fine by her. It certainly wasn't the case that any action of his,  or any inaction, was making her insides twist in two. So what if he was  moving on? So what if he was back in Seattle? She hoped he stayed there.  The prickling in her eyes had nothing to do with the fact that he might  not come back.

Sage had always thought logically, had always been the one to laugh at  those silly girls who wrapped their worlds around whomever they were  dating. She wouldn't be such a fool as to join their shallow ranks.

It was just the long shift, the fact that she was starving, and that  she'd just broken the heel on one of her favorite pairs of shoes. It had  been a silly, impulsive thing to wear them in the first place. After a  fifteen-hour shift, the last thing she had wanted to do was put on  heels, even if they were only two inches tall. It had nothing to do with  the fact that she'd wanted to look pretty just in case a certain doctor  had decided to show up at work.

When Sage saw the blinking light on the answering machine, she turned  away. She had no curiosity at all to see who'd called. She deserved a  trophy for not calling her grandmother and berating her for her  unconscionable actions. Not that Sage would be able to do that. It was  just best not to talk to the woman until she could say something nice.

"Meddling old people thinking they know best," she mumbled as she kicked  off her shoes, not caring that they were flying beneath her perfectly  decorated Christmas tree.

Looking at the tree only reminded her of her trip with Spence to the  mountains, of the fun they'd had picking out his tree, of decorating it,  of the absolute euphoria that had come afterward.

Turning her back on the tree, which she now wanted to throw outside as  yard waste, she walked slowly toward the kitchen. Although the thought  of food repelled her right then, she had to get something into her  stomach, and then climb into her bed.

Sleep. That's all she needed. A great night's sleep, and then a  beautiful Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her grandmother. Of  course she wouldn't hold a grudge against the woman who'd raised her-she  loved her grandma, and she could see how the woman had been trying to  help, according to her old-fashioned ideas. If only it hadn't meant that  Sage was more miserable now than she could ever remember.

Still, the apartment was too quiet, bitterly quiet. Sage really wished  her best friend were there. She and Grace had been missing each other  too much. Both she and Grace worked erratic hours, making it near  impossible to see each other. Sage didn't want to admit any form of  weakness, but she could really use a friend right now.                       
       
           



       

"No. I'm fine. Women survive breakups all the time. One little fight  won't turn me into a blithering idiot. I will eat some dinner, and then I  will sleep. When I wake up, I'll be back to myself, putting this whole  Spence situation far behind me." There. If that little speech didn't  turn her around, she didn't know what would.

She halted when she reached the kitchen. There on the table sat a  wrapped package. At first her heart fluttered, and then she forced it to  calm down.

"No. This will not make me sappy. This will not change my mind. It's  ridiculous. I'm not even going to open you up," she said, before  realizing that she was speaking to an inanimate object. Was this what it  was like to lose your mind? She wouldn't be a bit surprised.

She went over to the fridge and reached inside, grabbing the orange  juice and a couple of sticks of string cheese. Just to show how strong  she was, she sat at the kitchen table and carefully pulled back the  plastic on the cheese, then began peeling it apart and taking tiny bites  on each strand, while sipping on the orange juice to lengthen the  "meal."

"I don't care what the package is. As a matter of fact, I think I'll  just throw it in the garbage. It's probably something stupid anyway,"  she muttered. She finished the first stick of cheese and slowly  unwrapped the second one.

The box was screaming at her to open it. No. Sage was much stronger than  her curiosity. It wouldn't matter if the box was filled with  twenty-four-karat-gold bars. She didn't want to know.

Her brain mocked her. Yes, you do.

"No, I don't."

Sage's mouth dropped open when she said those words out loud. That was  it-she was officially going crazy. If she was going to argue out loud  with herself, she was in serious trouble.

"I'm a doctor, for crying out loud. I've been through undergraduate  school, medical school, many sleepless nights. I don't need to get this  upset over a man, and I don't need to argue with myself over whether or  not to open a stupid box."

She wished again that Grace was home. Then, at least, she'd be speaking  to another human being and not a package or the wall or, even worse,  herself.

Sage finished her cheese and orange juice, then turned and walked  deliberately from the kitchen, not allowing herself to turn back around.  She made it halfway down the hallway before she stopped and glanced  over her shoulder. Unable to see the kitchen or the table from this  vantage point, she gripped the walls.

"No, no, no."

She wouldn't do it. She wouldn't cave in to such a weakness as  curiosity. "Curiosity does kill the cat," she reminded herself. But she  still turned and began walking back toward the kitchen.

"What if it's something that's alive?" How could she not open that  package? "I mean, it would be wrong if something died because I didn't  care enough to take off a lid. It's not that I really care what Spence  has sent over." Sure, she told herself, there were no airholes, but you  never knew . . .