Decadence. He could think of a lot of decadent things to do with Taryn, and none had anything to do with baked goods. But he forced himself not to remember how good she’d looked in those running shorts and that thin T-shirt earlier today, not to notice how beautiful she was, even worn out, wearing a hospital gown, and without makeup, not to picture how sexy she’d been onstage when she sang. This was not the time, the place, or the woman. Plus, what kind of guy checked a girl out while she was in the hospital?
A dickhead. That’s who.
He cleared his throat. “I am not opposed to the occasional treat.”
“Cool, maybe we—”
But before she could get the words out, the door burst open behind him, and a crowd of people tumbled in, led by the unicorn and followed by superheroes and old TV stars. Taryn’s real cavalry had arrived. Shaw stepped back, trying to melt into the wall and disappear. And after a few minutes, he did just that, slipping into the hallway and not looking back. He had no place here.
This is not for you.
She is not for you.
Chapter
Seven
Taryn sipped the large milkshake Kincaid had picked up for her on the drive home from the hospital and tried to keep her expression neutral as she and her friends made their way back to Long Acre. Kincaid was driving, and Liv and Rebecca had dispatched the guys to return Taryn’s car to her house since no one wanted her to drive yet. Her friends had then piled into the back seat, insisting on seeing her home as well.
Taryn was thankful for the support, but she was struggling to keep it all together in front of her friends. The doctor had discharged her with firm instructions to work on her stress levels. At first, she’d been outright dismissive of the doctor’s advice—Oh, stress, everyone has it, right? But the doctor was having none of it. She’d told Taryn straight up, This can kill you. Your body is giving you a warning. If you don’t take the warning, next time it will move to crisis phase to get your attention. Her friends had been in the room, and she’d seen their reactions to the doctor’s words, the deep concern.
That was when the reality of it all had settled in for Taryn. The chest pains she’d felt on that course had been real. At first, she’d thought maybe she was having some sort of panic attack because people were chasing her and maybe that had triggered something. But she’d experienced anxiety before. This had been different—a terrifying tightness in her chest, bone-deep dread. For a few terrifying seconds, she’d thought she was having a heart attack and that she was dying.
A very specific fear had overtaken her. I can’t do this to my parents. That had scared her more than anything. The idea of someone breaking the news to her mom and dad that they’d lost another child. Then a fresh panic had washed over her with a new thought. I’m not done yet. I haven’t started yet.
She didn’t know what to do with that. The sense that even though she was thirty-one, she hadn’t started. Started what, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because she hadn’t gotten her program in schools yet. She’d made it her life’s work, and it could’ve ended before she ever got the program off the ground. That might’ve been where the panic had come from, but the more she thought about it, the more that didn’t feel quite right. The dread had felt more all-encompassing—a desperate, smothering sense of loss of what could’ve been—and it was freaking her the hell out.
She didn’t have time for an existential crisis. She had work to do.
“You should call in and take the week off,” Liv said from the back seat, breaking Taryn from her thoughts. “The doctor wrote an excuse for you. You should jump on that. Get some rest. Binge Netflix. Go on a little getaway. Something.”
Taryn frowned and glanced at Liv in the rearview mirror, catching her dark-eyed gaze. “I can’t. The school-board presentation is Thursday night, and I have classes to teach. I’d need to give my department more notice than that. I’m okay. I just need a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be fine.”
“Fine?” Kincaid said, the word full of sharp edges. “I’m about to outlaw that word from your vocabulary.” She gripped the wheel tighter and returned her gaze to the road, the muscle in her jaw working. “You’re not fine. You heard the doctor. This could kill you.”
“Kincaid, it’s not—” Taryn started.
“No, don’t even.” Kincaid’s voice was tight, as if there was a hand around her throat pinching off the air. “Do you know how terrified I was when Rivers told me you’d collapsed?” Her long lashes blinked rapidly, her sparkly blue unicorn eyeliner smudging more. “My heart dropped right out of my chest. My mind went to…bad places.”
Taryn swallowed her protest, hating that she’d put that fear into her friend. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Well, you did,” Kincaid said, her chin jutting out like a child trying not to cry.
“You scared all of us,” Rebecca said gently from the back seat. “And believe me, I know what it’s like to have so much on your plate that taking a break can seem impossible. I’ve been there. But your body is telling you something. I don’t want to freak you out, but there was a lawyer when I first started at the firm who was really successful and seemed to be healthy and have it all together. He collapsed one night when he was working late, died of a heart attack at thirty-seven. His assistant found him the next morning.”
Taryn’s stomach flipped over. “God, how horrible.”
“It was, and it was the first time I realized youth didn’t give people a pass on those things,” she continued. “I’m not saying you’re in the same boat as him. The doc said your heart looks good, but the hours you’re pulling and the stress you’re dealing with are doing damage.”
Taryn absorbed the warning and leaned her head back against the seat. “I know working this much isn’t good for me, but I’m almost there. I don’t keep this schedule all the time. It’s just this last year that’s been hairy. If I can get through this school-board presentation and get the program piloting in a few schools, I can take a break and recuperate.”
“That’s the thing, though,” Rebecca said, leaning forward between the seats. “I’ve told myself that story, too, but there’s always another thing after whatever you’re stressing about is over. For me, there was always another difficult court case. For you, once you get past the school board, you’re going to have to roll out the program. Then you’re going to have to work out kinks in the program. Then it will need additional funding.”
“Exactly,” Liv said. “The stress doesn’t really go away. It just takes on different faces. You need to find ways to give yourself pockets of time to relax, recharge, and have fun during all that so you can manage it.”
“I know,” Taryn conceded. “You’re right.”
“Yes, we are. Which is why…” Kincaid said, giving her another pointed look. “Even if you can’t take time off, you’re at least doing this Gym Xtreme thing with me. Starting this week. No excuses. I’m pulling rank.”