2. Prescription For Love

“Partly.” Margie snorted, and Flann laughed. “I like her, okay?”

“Me too. Blake says she’s been really cool with everything.” “They’re both pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, I think so too. So,” Margie said, “you do have a thing?”

Flann sighed. “Maybe.” “Good. So—”

“That’s all you get. Go to bed.” Flann gave her a little shove toward the house. “Good night!” Margie loped off, calling, “You too.”

Flann started the Jeep. She was ready for bed, and she’d probably even be able to sleep now. Talking about Abby and Blake, thinking about them, settled her in a way she hadn’t imagined possible. They mattered, and she hadn’t known she’d wanted that, but she did. She wanted a life where love mattered.

*

Flann kept watching the parking lot as game time drew closer. Blake and Margie sat with Presley in the stands, but Abby hadn’t come. The disappointment was a sharp pain in Flann’s chest. She hadn’t seen Abby all day, but every second when she wasn’t busy, she thought of her. She replayed the kisses, how could she not? But mostly she came back to the moments they’d shared strolling through the market and sharing a bottle of wine while the sun went down. Moments far more intimate than anything she’d experienced naked in bed with near strangers. She wanted Abby naked in bed— she’d awakened with a craving for her that left her out of sorts and aching all day—but she wanted the quiet connections too. She wanted it all.

She tried to distract herself by watching the warm-ups. Carrie was loosening up, pitching to Harper. Usually Glenn would be hitting fly balls to the outfielders, but Glenn was missing in action too. Glenn never missed a game and was never late unless she and Flann were held up in the OR. A sliver of heat raced down Flann’s spine. Glenn and Abby were missing. Together.

No, that was just coincidence. Abby wasn’t a player, and Abby wouldn’t have kissed her the way she’d kissed her if she was interested in anyone else. Still, a little niggle of doubt ate at her. She didn’t want Abby kissing anyone else. But then how was Abby supposed to know that?

“God damn it.”

“You’re talking to yourself. You don’t want to scare the horses.”

Flann frowned at Harper, belatedly noticing Carrie had left the field to get some water. “There are no horses.”

“All the same.” Harper scanned the stands and grinned in Presley’s direction. “You’re not playing tonight, are you?”

“I thought maybe I could DH,” Flann said, “if things get tight later on.”

“Probably better if you give that leg a little more time to heal.”

“Geez, when did you start channeling Mama?”

“Abby’s admitting a patient with a rule-out MI, in case you were wondering,” Harper said casually.

Flann crossed her arms and pretended not to be relieved. “One of yours?”

“No, Lorraine Peterson’s. But I was seeing one of my patients in the ER when Lorraine’s patien came in. Abby’ll probably be along soon.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I just thought you might want to know that. Seeing as how you’ve been glued to the stands for the last half hour.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh, okay.” Harper shrugged. “’Cause, you know, I thought the two of you had a thing.” “Jesus, is everybody interested in my love life now?”

“Is there one?”

Flann stomped over to the bench and sorted through the equipment bag to find her glove. “I’m gonna catch fly balls for a while.”

“Don’t do much running.” Harper looked around as if to check who was nearby. They were alone. “Hold on.”

“What?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do any running at all, Flann.”

Flann tucked her glove under her arm. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Abby is special. So is Blake.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think what you don’t know is that you are too. Always have been.”

“For fuck sake,” Flann muttered. “Falling in love has really made you go soft.” “And it’s just made you harder to live with,” Harper shot back.

“I’m not falling in love.”

“Aren’t you?” Harper’s brow raised. “Then you probably don’t care that Hank Anderson asked me if Abby was available. And he’s not the only one. Marsha—”

Flann growled. “Abby’s not available.”

“I didn’t think so. Maybe you should tell her that.” Harper grinned. “Don’t push that leg tonight.

We’ve got a barn to raise tomorrow.”

Flann dropped onto the bench and scanned the bleachers one more time. No Abby. Hank Anderson was an ass, and Marsha Fitzroy was a player. She wondered how many other people were going to come sniffing around. God damn it. Abby was hers. Hers.

Glenn and Abby showed up together a few minutes before game time. Flann watched Abby climb into the stands and settle next to Presley. She looked at home, she looked perfect. The pain in Flann’s chest eased.

Glenn hustled over and grabbed the equipment bag, nodding to Flann. “Hey.”

“I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

Glenn grabbed her glove and sat to lace up her spikes. “Abby and I were looking at a patient with a diabetic foot ulcer. I cleaned it up a little bit but didn’t think he needed to be admitted.”

“I didn’t get a consult.”

“Oh, I stopped by on my way out. Just to check.”