Page 107 of Josephine and Clay

“No,” Dr. Harris says gently. “But ignoring it won’t either.”

I look at him then. I think I might cry, which is unacceptable.

So I reach for the chart again. “Mr. Biscuits needs his follow-up scheduled.”

Dr. Harris studies me, then nods. “He does.”

I appreciate him for letting me retreat.

I hate that I need him to.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, I'm exhausted enough that my bones feel filled with wet sand.

I’m locking the clinic cabinet when the front door opens, and Penny walks in with effortless confidence.

She’s wearing a denim skirt, boots, and a top with tiny embroidered flowers that looks entirely too cheerful for the amount of emotional interference she usually brings with her.

“No,” I say immediately.

She stops mid-step. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I know your face.”

“My face is lovely.”

“Your face is planning something.”

“Also true.” She grins. “You’re coming to the barn dance tonight.”

“No.”

“See? That was too fast. You didn’t consider it.”

“I considered it earlier when I remembered it existed, and I decided no.”

“You didn't decide no. You hid behind work.”

“I was working at work. That’s generally encouraged.”

She plants both hands on the counter. “Josie.”

“Penny.”

“You need to leave your house for something that isn’t employment or medical panic.”

The fact that she’s right irritates me immediately. “I leave my house.”

“To go to work.”

I roll my eyes. “And the grocery store.”

“Where you buy crackers and cleaning supplies. That doesn't count as enrichment.”

“I’m not some tragic exhibit.”

Penny arches a brow. “Then stop acting like you’re trapped.”

I narrow my eyes. “That was almost profound. I don’t like it.”