“Get used to it because his teenage years are right around the corner, and if he’s anything like you, I’m in trouble.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
“No? How many times did you get chewed out for missing curfew?”
“That was only because you changed the time on my watch to purposely get me in trouble.”
“Guess I remember it differently.” I smirk, pausing in place.
“Walk me to the door?” Dax’s deep voice sends chills down my spine, but his gentle touch on my arm shoots electricity through my whole body. His touch is like a car jumpstarting, breathing life back into it.
Once we’re in the living room, away from the chatter and music, all humor is gone. Standing at the front door, he runs his hand through his hair. I place my hand on his forearm, and his attention falls there. “Everything okay?”
“Not sure. One of my patients needs to see me right away.” He lifts his gaze again. “I’m sorry I have to leave early. I wasn’t supposed to work today, but I had to fill in for Dr. Cooper. He had an emergency.”
“I’m glad you came.”
“I told you I’ll always be there for you and Jacob. I meant what I said.”
My stomach flutters, and hope replaces the knot that was there earlier.
“There’s something between you and me,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. Seductive. “Your body responds to me like it recognizes me. Like it needs me.”
He moves his hands to my waist, his fingers curling into my sides, and my breath hitches.
“But you’re scared,” he says. “I get it. I am too. But I know what I want, and I’ll wait as long as it takes until you realize you want me too.”
My gaze lingers on his lips as his hand reaches up to tuck my curly hair behind my ear.
Leaning in, his thumb brushing against my jaw, he whispers in my ear, “I was prepared to wait forever, after all.”
He places a firm kiss to my temple, then opens the door and leaves me alone with the echo of his words.
My jaw drops, and my hand twitches to fan my flushed cheeks.
Because wow.
Twenty-One
Dax
Finished with appointments for the afternoon, I disappear into my office to take a breather. Taking a seat at my desk, I sigh, frustrated, thinking about Clara from the party Saturday.
Two days, I’ve gone without seeing her.
In my head, I’ve repeatedly replayed the way she watched me when we stood at her front door. Like she was seeing me for the first time. And in a way, she was.
There’s a knock on my door, and I call out for them to come in. “What poor posture you have, Dr. Pearson.” Staci struts in with an iPad clutched to her chest like she’s hiding her diary pages. “How you don’t have back problems from sitting like that is beyond me.”
“Chiropractor twice a month does the trick.” I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “What’s up?”
“It’s this patient.” She shifts, and her playfulness falls. “We found a tumor in his brain last week, and he was in today to discuss his options.” She gulps, facing me, but I know she can’t see me. She’s far away, probably thinking about a time when we were in our first year of medical school. A time when we focused mostly on studying and tests and making sure we always had enough coffee and energy drinks for all-nighters.
We mostly dealt with diagrams of the human body, not real people.
Not people who are sick and on their death beds.
Not people who die on our watch.
I stand from my seat and wait for the rest.
“He was calm, almost like he was at peace with his very bleak prognosis. I mean, we only gave him three months to live, and he patted me on the arm, smiling.” She laughs humorlessly, her eyes teary. “Said he’ll go fishing with his son as much as he can, before he forgets who he is. Before his son sees him wither away.”
Clenching my jaw, I step toward her, afraid to break her trance. She needs a minute to collect herself. It happens to all of us.
The days when things go well—they lift us up. But these kind of days, the ones that force us to confront our mortality, they’re devastating.
We both jump when there’s a knock on the door. Brooks stands there, his mouth open, but he doesn’t move or say anything. His attention is on Staci.
She wipes the smudge of what little mascara she’s wearing from underneath her eyes, then shakes herself out of it.
“What happened?” Brooks asks, reaching for Staci’s arm.
“I needed to unload for a second.” She nods, then moves toward the door.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” Brooks stops her. He whispers in her ear, then kisses the side of her head, and most of his head is lost in her untamed hair.
That’s the thing about this job. We might bicker like Brooks and Staci, but when it comes down to do it, we’re here for each other. We offer support in any way we can, even if it’s an inappropriate joke.
It’s the only way we survive, especially for people like Brooks, Staci, and me who have no escape. No family to go home to. We’re each other’s family.
We talk for a few more minutes, and when Staci and Brooks are called away, I stare out the window like it’s a window to the past.
I think about sitting in my own dad’s office once upon a time—another lifetime ago. It’s like it wasn’t even me, but I remember like they’re my own memories.
I’d ask my dad to use the “toy” hammer to bring my knee to life. No matter how many times I asked, he always obliged like he had nowhere else to be.
My dad was a pediatrician. He was busy and stressed, but he always came home to us with a cheery disposition. He said it was because
