The Family You Make Page 4

  Okay, true. Jane was incredibly stubborn. She knew this about herself. She wasn’t sorry. “Just don’t let her see me.”

  Mateo’s and Charlotte’s houses shared a driveway that split off at the top to two different parking areas. There was enough room for two lanes of cars at the top, but Mateo stopped right next to Charlotte’s car.

  “Wow,” Jane said, still scrunched down low, out of sight. “Seriously?”

  “Hey, if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.” He opened his door, got out, and . . . didn’t shut his door.

  “Payback sucks,” she warned him, then braced to get fussed over. But somehow she got lucky, because when Charlotte got out of her car, she didn’t so much as glance over at Mateo’s. Instead, she stood there, hands on hips, in her midnight-blue scrubs, her white doctor coat, and a thick pink down jacket, unzipped, which billowed behind her in the chilly breeze. Same with her blond hair, loose from its usual bun, flying around her face like a halo, giving her the look of an animated action hero. She gave Mateo a single nod and said “Doctor” in a tone so chilly Jane almost got frostbite.

  “Doctor,” Mateo repeated back to her, sounding amused.

  Charlotte stared at him, but Mateo didn’t turn to stone. “It’s going to snow again later.” She said this in that classy southern drawl of hers, the one that always sounded like maybe she was on the way to an opera or something equally sophisticated and elegant. “When it does, don’t even think about plowing my driveway.”

  “Just trying to help,” Mateo said lightly.

  “Who said I needed help?” She shivered and then zipped up her pink down jacket.

  Mateo’s lips twitched, and Jane knew his amusement resulted from the fact that the badass Charlotte had one weakness—for anything pink. Then he slid a knowing look at the strings of twinkling Christmas lights lining Charlotte’s house’s eaves.

  Charlotte was back to hands on hips. “They’re hard to get down.”

  “I offered to help you.”

  “Maybe I just want to be ready for the holidays ahead of time.”

  “It’s only February.”

  She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” Mateo said. “You don’t need any help on anything, ever.”

  “Now you’re getting it. And anyway, I don’t see you plowing Stan’s driveway. Or Peter’s.”

  Stan and Peter, both elderly men, were neighbors. And Jane knew that Mateo had indeed plowed their driveways as well, many times. But Mateo didn’t tell Charlotte that or try to defend himself. He just stood there with a small smile on his face. Like Charlotte being all hoity-toity and contrary somehow amused him.

  Jane had never understood why Charlotte didn’t like Mateo. The woman liked almost everyone, but if you were one of the few unlucky ones—well then, she could cut you dead with a single slice of her icy blue eyes. And those eyes were frigid right now. She might be a sweet steel magnolia who never swore in public or wore white after Labor Day, but she never, ever backed down from a confrontation.

  The cold air coming in the open car door was sucking the breath from Jane’s lungs. Plus, she was hungry, tired, and needed to pee. With a sigh, she got out.

  Charlotte glanced over and paled.

  Jane hoisted the coffee and pastry bag. “Look, breakfast!”

  Charlotte drew in a deep breath before sending Mateo a hard look that had something else in it as well, something Jane couldn’t place for certain but thought was maybe . . . hurt?

  “It’s not what you think,” Mateo told her calmly.

  That was when Jane realized she was wrapped in Mateo’s jacket—which covered her from chin to her thighs—hood up, arriving home with the guy at just past dawn, like two teenagers trying to sneak back into their house without getting caught. “Definitely not what you’re thinking,” Jane said, with a face that made Mateo give out a rough laugh.

  “Thanks,” he said dryly and then turned to Charlotte. “She landed in the ER while you were in surgery.”

  “In the ER? Oh my God.” Charlotte moved quickly toward Jane. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” With a sigh, Jane let the hood fall back to reveal her small facial injuries and pushed up a sleeve to show the wrist wrap. “It’s nothing.”

  Charlotte aimed a dark look at Mateo.

  He put up his hands. “Hey, you should’ve seen her when she first arrived at the ER. This is her actually cleaned up.”

  “You should have told me.” Charlotte turned her attention back to Jane, unzipping the jacket to see that Jane wore a set of the scrubs in the colors reserved for the ER.

  Where Jane never worked. Her rotations were in the urgent care clinics, not the hospital. Even more pale now, Charlotte cupped Jane’s face, looking it over carefully. “What happened? And where are your clothes?”

  They’d been caked with Levi’s blood, but that’s not what Charlotte was asking. Jane stepped closer, making sure to keep eye contact. “I’m not hurt,” she said. “Not in that way. I promise.” She handed the coffee and pastry bag to Mateo to hold so she could put her hands over Charlotte’s. She knew the woman’s mind would take her to the worst possible place, assuming someone had hurt Jane on purpose. Badly. As Charlotte had once been hurt on purpose. Badly. “You heard about the gondola that went down last night?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said. “No one was on it. It was downplayed for the press, presumably so as not to dissuade the ski season traffic in any way.”

  “It’s true that no one was on the gondola that went down. But I was on the one just behind it, with another passenger. We got tossed around some, but I’m fine.”

  “Oh my God.” Charlotte tugged her in and hugged her hard. “Do you know what could have happened?”

  “But it didn’t,” Jane said.

  “Why on God’s green earth didn’t you call me? I was right there at the hospital.” She turned on Mateo like this was his doing.

  “Yep, and there’s my cue to go,” he said, handing Jane back the bag and coffee.

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that just like a man, turning tail and running from a discussion.”

  Mateo stopped dead in his tracks, his dark eyes flashing something more than good humor for once. “You’re not looking for a discussion, Charlotte. You’re looking for a fight. And I’m not backing down from either. Name the time and place, babe. And I’m there.”

  The air seemed to crackle.

  Jane, who’d been enjoying not being the center of their attention, suddenly straightened and stared at them both because . . . what? What was this? If she didn’t know better, she’d call it sexual tension. But Charlotte didn’t do sexual tension, ever. She’d cut that part of her life off entirely. Not exactly healthy, something that even Jane could recognize, but it was the truth. Fascinated, she watched as Charlotte, under Mateo’s sharp gaze, seemed to . . . squirm?

  Jane had never seen the woman squirm, not once.

  Instantly curious, Jane eyed Mateo, who looked to be both amused and annoyed at the same time, which made things even more interesting because Mateo rarely showed annoyance. “Oh my God,” she said, pointing at them. “You two are doing it?”

  Charlotte gasped and put a hand to her chest.

  The southern belle does denial.

  Mateo’s expression didn’t change.

  “You are!” Jane said in surprise.

  Charlotte crossed her arms. “No, we are in fact not doing it.”

  Mateo shrugged. “I’ve asked her out. She’s turned me down. Multiple times.” He spoke to Jane but never took his eyes off Charlotte. “She knows the ball’s in her court.”

  Charlotte stared at him right back. “I don’t play ball.”

  “Then pick something else. You know where to find me.” And with that, he started across the driveway toward his house.

  “Hey,” Jane called after him, “you’re just going to leave me with her?”

  “I’ve already
been yelled at this week, both for the snow removal and when my car was an inch over the center divider of the driveway. Your turn.”

  “Excuse me, I don’t yell,” Charlotte said to his back. “I speak strongly, as is my right as a woman, thank you very much. And it wasn’t your car blocking my driveway, it was a blue Toyota, so unless you occasionally wear a blond wig . . .”

  Mateo stopped and turned back. “Whatever you do, never tell my cousin you thought she was wearing a wig.”

  Charlotte blinked. “Your cousin?”

  “Yes. You know my family lives nearby. You’ve just never met them because, again, you’ve turned down all my attempts to get to know each other better.”

  “I can’t believe I missed all this,” Jane muttered to herself. “I thought you two didn’t like each other. But it’s actually the opposite, you two—”

  “Finish that sentence and you’re doing dishes for the rest of my life,” Charlotte said. “And while this has been a whole bunch of fun, I’m going inside to eat and then sleep.” With that, she strode, nose in the air, toward her house, blond hair quivering with indignation.

  “Now who’s turning tail?” Mateo asked, almost lazily.

  Charlotte, her back to Mateo, froze.

  Oh boy, Jane thought, torn between making a run for it or staying to watch the show. Because what Jane knew, and what Mateo had no way of knowing, was that Charlotte had been turning tail when it came to men since the night of her eighteenth birthday, when a string of bad decisions had nearly derailed her entire life.

  Jane stood there, caught between two people she cared deeply about, not sure how to help. Thankfully, Mateo’s phone went off. He looked at the screen and ran a hand down his face.

  “I’m being called back into the hospital,” he said. “Trev can’t make his shift.”

  “No,” Charlotte said, bad ’tude gone, replaced with something that looked suspiciously like worry. “You’re too tired. Let them call someone else.”

  “I’m fine.” He gave her an unreadable look, then got back into his car and drove off.

  Jane felt for Mateo, she really did, but at the end of the day, her first alliance was with Charlotte, always, and her heart pinched hard at the look on her friend’s face. Slipping her hand in Charlotte’s, Jane knew exactly what to say to the good doctor, whose greatest joy was taking care of others, to redirect her. “Let’s go inside. My head and wrist are aching.”

  Charlotte gasped. “And you let me stand out here dithering on?”

  “Well, I know how you love to dither.”

  Charlotte snorted indignantly but slipped an arm around Jane and drew her inside.

  Charlotte had bought the old Victorian to celebrate getting her residency. But burdened with heavy debt from medical school, she typically rented out three of the five bedrooms to hospital staff. Anyone of the female persuasion who needed a room qualified, from nurses to cleaning crews. She kept the master for herself and the one extra room as a den.

  And a bedroom for Jane when she was in town.

  For Charlotte, it was kind of the-family-you-make situation. Her parents were sweet and wonderful but lived in Atlanta. And since Charlotte couldn’t often make herself go back there without experiencing crippling anxiety and panic attacks, she’d created a home and family here in Tahoe as well.

  To Jane’s shock and surprise and eternal gratitude, she was a part of that homemade family.

  The house was an extension of Charlotte herself, warm and cozy, right down to the comfy furniture and thriving plants—more thanks to the high-altitude sun that came in from her floor-to-ceiling windows than any green thumb. Just walking inside, Jane could actually feel her blood pressure lowering. “That was fascinating, brand-new information, bee tee dubs. You and Mateo . . .”

  “Hush.” Charlotte took the pastry and coffee. “Are you really okay?”

  “Yes,” Jane said. “Promise.”

  “If you’re sure, I’ll make us a big breakfast. Then we’ll split the pastry for dessert and both go get some sleep.”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll help.”

  “You mean you’ll watch me cook, then do the cleanup.”

  Jane smiled. “Unless you want my help cooking?”

  Well aware of Jane’s lack of talent in the kitchen, Charlotte shuddered. “Please, no.”

  Two women were in the living room, both on yoga mats, stretching into some sort of twisted-pretzel poses. Charlotte greeted them warmly and announced she was making breakfast if they were interested.

  They were.

  Jane waved at them but didn’t engage, just followed Charlotte into the kitchen. “What?” she said when Charlotte gave her an amused glance while stripping off her pink down jacket. “You said the magic word—breakfast.”

  “They’re our roommates.” Charlotte was pulling out ingredients. “They’ve been here two weeks and you still don’t know their names.”

  “Sure I do.”

  Charlotte put a pan on the stove top and gave her an I’m waiting look.

  Shit. “Um . . .”

  Charlotte snorted. “Michelle and Stacey.”

  “Yes! You took their names right out of my mouth.”

  “Uh-huh.” Charlotte was cracking eggs into a bowl. “Or is it Chloe and Emma . . .”

  Jane narrowed her eyes. “You’re messing with me.”

  “You’re an easy mark. And FYI, it’s Zoe and Mariella.”

  “I knew that.”

  Charlotte poured the eggs into the hot pan, making them sizzle. “Honey, you’re taking lone wolf to a whole new level this time.”

  “I know. I’m a jerk.”

  “No. You’re an introvert. There’s nothing wrong with that. But even a lone wolf has to come inside and get warm once in a while.” She added peppers and onions to the eggs, which made the kitchen smell like heaven. Then she pointed the spatula at Jane. “You’re so great with your patients—I’ve seen it. Sweet and personal and caring. They rave over you. But when it comes to making any real connections, you turn all thumbs. Why is that?”

  Jane pulled some leftover bacon and chicken from the fridge and crumbled it into a small bowl. “I don’t see the point of making connections. Not when I’m going to be gone soon.”

  “Ah. Right. Your favorite motto.”

  Jane ignored this and headed to the back door, where she found herself caught in the cross hairs of the biggest cat she’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

  Cat, as she called him—short for Alley Cat—sat on the back stoop, looking quite at home. Big but not overfed, a sleek, dark gray predator with slightly crossed light gray eyes. He eyed Jane for a long moment, letting her know she was in some sort of disfavor for being late with his breakfast.

  “Sorry,” she said, setting down the bowl. “I nearly almost died, but don’t you worry, I’ve got your food.”

  “Let him in,” Charlotte called out.

  “He doesn’t want to come in. He likes being free, living how he wants.” Jane watched as Cat began to inhale the meat from the bowl, making some yummy yummy noises deep in his throat.

  As far as she knew, he belonged to no one but himself. He made the rounds through the neighborhood daily, but seemed to spend the most time with Jane. She sat on the step at his side and stroked his fur in thanks for his blessing her with his presence. It was ridiculous how much she cared about him after only a few weeks, but as she kept telling everyone, she was leaving at the end of the season. It really would be cruel to introduce him to the fine life of indoor living, only to have to put him back out on the streets when she was gone.

  She stayed with him until he’d finished his food and sat back on his haunches, washing his face. Done with that, he gave her another look, one she liked to think meant thank you, turned, and with a flick of his tail, was gone.

  Other than Charlotte, it was the best relationship she’d ever had.

  Back in the kitchen, Charlotte was still working on the food, and since Jane was starving, she revisited
the fridge and this time came out cradling a glass container labeled JANE’S. “You’re my very own personal angel,” she told Charlotte, grabbing a fork for the vegetable lasagna.

  “That was for last night, which of course you missed, and you really should heat it up first—” Charlotte broke off with a grimace of distaste, but didn’t further waste her breath as Jane dug into it cold.

  “Yum.”

  Charlotte sighed. “Your cat was just making the same appreciative noises.”

  Jane snorted. “Are you comparing me to our alley cat?”

  “Your alley cat, and yes.” Charlotte paused and met Jane’s eyes. “Where’s your car, still up at North Diamond?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll drive you to get it after breakfast.”

  “Thanks,” Jane said gratefully.

  “Of course.” Charlotte paused, studied her for a moment. “You want to talk about it?”

  “About what?”

  “Almost dying.”

  “I was being dramatic.”

  “Jane, you’re never dramatic. Tell me. I get it, you know.”

  Jane did know, and to her surprise, found herself fighting emotions. “I was coming home from work when the storm hit, it all went bad, and— Oh, no.” She broke off, set the food down, and clutched at her throat where her necklace normally lay.

  It was gone.

  “I lost it,” she whispered. “That’s what happened. Dammit.”

  “Your grandma’s necklace?”

  “Yes.” And the only thing Jane had of hers. She pulled out her phone and called North Diamond’s urgent care. No one picked up, so she left a message, detailing the necklace she’d lost, also asking them to check with ski patrol.

  Knowing exactly what that necklace meant to her, Charlotte came around the island. “Honey.” She slid an arm around her. “Someone will find it and contact the resort.”

  Jane nodded, but the dread in her gut told her it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

  “How about pancakes with your veggie lasagna and eggs?”

  Jane wasn’t the only one who could distract with the best of them. “With chocolate chips?” she asked.

  “Is there any other kind?”