Can’t Hurry Love, Nadine Millard [10 best novels of all time .TXT] 📗

And he couldn’t do that while he hurtled his way to burning out before hitting forty, working as an ER doctor, seeing unspeakable trauma every day, all while dealing with his own unspeakable trauma.

Mostly, he couldn’t stay in the apartment he’d shared with Elaine. Couldn’t drive the same roads that had caused his world to implode.

Yes, everyone, from the police officers and the paramedics to his friends and family, insisted he wasn’t at fault. Hell, even Elaine’s own mother, Ellen, told him that.

But it wasn’t just the guilt he’d run from. It was the mess he’d made of his life. It was the awful, painful brush with love and marriage and commitment and what had happened when it had all fallen apart.

The driver of the pick-up had been over the limit. Insane to drive drunk as it was but especially in wintry Chicago weather. He was the only one at whose feet the blame could be laid. Logically, Josh knew that. But sometimes, it was hard to let logic win out.

By some miracle, neither he nor Elaine had been seriously hurt. Not physically anyway.

The memory of walking to her room after being told that she’d miscarried slammed into him now, refusing to budge.

He walked in filled with pain and guilt, and she stared at him, her dark eyes filled with venom.

“I’m sorry, Elaine,” he managed to rasp. “I’m so sorry about the baby. I would never have wished this on you. On us.”

She rolled her eyes, and Josh searched her face for a sign that she was putting on a show, protecting herself by pretending she didn’t care. But there was no pretence.

“I’m glad it’s gone. You’ve just saved me the inconvenience of getting rid of it.”

That had been the last time he’d seen her face to face.

Filing for divorce had been a no-brainer. He didn’t fight her on anything. Gave her what she wanted. Surprisingly, she wasn’t gunning for alimony that would bankrupt him.

She’d settled for an apartment of her own and a lump sum pay-out.

Then before the ink had dried on the papers, she’d sold up and moved on. Found herself some musician and spontaneously moved to LA with him.

Josh had been glad to have washed his hands of the whole thing.

But then Ellen had started calling.

Elaine wasn’t checking in as much, his ex-mother-in-law had explained, and she had no-one else to turn to. And when her daughter did call, her behaviour was erratic… not making any sense… her speech was sometimes slurred…

The first time she OD’d, Josh had paid for private rehab treatment.

The second time, he’d flown out to LA with Ellen because he couldn’t shake that sense of responsibility. That sense of guilt.

He’d driven her to the treatment centre. Listened as she made excuses, spat vile accusations and empty threats at him and her long-suffering mother.

It had been a shock to see her so changed. But he couldn’t invest in her anymore. There wasn’t enough of him left to give. He’d flown home that weekend and handed in his resignation.

He was lucky — beyond lucky — not to need money. He’d been born into the mighty Larson wealth, after all. His trust fund meant he’d never have to work a day in his life if he chose not to.

He’d gone into medicine because of the innate urge to help people. Yet, he hadn’t been able to help Elaine’s baby. And he knew that, despite his efforts, he wasn’t able to help Elaine either.

It was by sheer accident that he’d stumbled across the opening at Rocky Valley. He’d been browsing job websites almost unseeingly when the photo had caught his eye. The practise looked like something out of a movie. An old-fashioned, red-brick house that had been converted into a medical practice covered in wisteria. Josh felt more relaxed just looking at it.

Falling down the Internet rabbit hole, he read up on Dr. Beech who was looking for a partner who would one day run the practise alone. Then he read about Rocky Valley itself, studied photos of countless sweeping cattle ranches, of mountains and lakes, rivers, and quaint buildings that looked as if they hadn’t changed in a hundred years.

It looked idyllic. It looked peaceful. Most of all, it looked nothing like Chicago.

During his psych rotation as an intern, Josh had learned a little bit about reactive behaviours to trauma. Maybe that was what he’d experienced that night, because he found himself typing out an email to Dr. Beech.

Two weeks later he’d landed in Rocky Valley.

And two weeks after that, he’d met Beth Carroway.

Josh moved restlessly to the window and lifted the blind to peer out to the empty street. A movement down by the corner the caught his eye, unusual in the still of the early morning.

As he watched, a red pick-up pulled up outside The Book Nook and Beth’s Bakery.

Dr. Beech’s granddaughter, Zoe, had opened her bookstore a year ago, and not long after that, Beth opened a small bakery right next door, though it was more conjoined than next door, as customers could walk freely from one to the other in the huge open space that housed both businesses.

And since Zoe and Beth were inseparable anyway, it seemed to be a match made in heaven.

The few times that he’d been brave enough to venture inside in the past year, he’d noticed how happy Beth seemed. How in her element.

He’d noticed a hell of a lot more about her too, but since the disaster at Zoe and Beck’s wedding last week, he tried (and failed, mostly) not to think about that.

As he watched, Beth jumped out of the truck. Normally, he’d be surprised by someone so tiny being able to handle the monster she drove. But knowing what he knew now about the fiery blonde, he figured she could manage just about anything.

He wondered at the early hour of her arrival and then figured since it was a bakery, this was probably normal for her.

Plus, Zoe and Beck were currently on honeymoon, so maybe