Page 103 of Doctor's Bossy Match
Dad’s sitting in his chair, elbows on the armrests like he’s been waiting.
“Where were you?”
“I was with Scarlet.”The lie comes out too easily.I ignore the guilt churning in my stomach and the person I’m becoming, but what choice do I have?
His eyebrow arches slightly.That look tells me he doesn’t buy it.But to my relief, he doesn’t press.
His gaze sweeps over my face, pausing.I resist the urge to touch my cheeks, to smooth my hair.I know I don’t look like I’ve just been thoroughly fucked; I made sure of that before I left Brant’s.Still, my body feels it.Every muscle aches.
“You’ve been acting strange lately,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
My stomach tightens because this is it.This is the moment he figures it out.This is where everything falls apart, and I’m no longer the daughter he’s proud of.“I’ve been busy.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
I snort without thinking, a dry little laugh.“With what time?”
His jaw tics.“Don’t be smart.I’m asking a question.”
I roll my eyes, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.“Well, I’m not a teenager with a curfew anymore.”Even though I’m acting like one…
The silence stretches.A familiar tension flickers between us, one I remember too well from high school nights out.
“I’m aware.But I care about you.What if you went missing?”
Guilt pricks at my spine.I soften, dropping my heels gently onto the floor.
“I didn’t mean to worry you.I’ll be better about it.”
He nods, but his expression doesn’t ease.“You sure there’s nothing I should know?”
I force a smile, even as my pulse pounds in my ears.“Positive.”
He watches me for another beat, then sighs, leaning back.“Go get some sleep.”
I nod, already stepping toward the hallway, with tightness in my chest, unsure if he believed me.
Chapter 29
Brant
Ispentthemorningat the hospital on a high after last night with Regan.Every time I’m with her, it gets better and better.It’s dangerous, but I can’t fucking stop myself.
I discharged the little boy who had his AV canal defect fixed.Standing there with his parents, watching them teary with relief as I explained his recovery plan, I felt that familiar tightness in my chest.He made it.He’s going home.He’ll have a scar like me, but he’ll live.
My pager went off, and I was pulled into an emergency just after sunrise.What I thought was going to be a routine post-op infection.Turned out, it was a child with a high white cell count.Early signs of sepsis.I did everything I could—aggressive antibiotics, fluids, and close monitoring.We have to wait to see if he recovers.
Now it’s later in the day, and I’m out, running the streets.Pounding the pavement like I can push the fear out of me.Like if I run hard enough to exhaust myself, I won’t still see that boy’s glassy eyes staring back at me.
I reach the edge of the path, suck in a deep breath, and spot Nate already jogging ahead.He gives me a nod as I catch up beside him.
We don’t talk.That’s the best part.
Letting our footsteps do the talking.
My breath comes fast, chest rising and falling in sync with my strides.We pass by trees, cracked sidewalk, someone’s German shepherd pulling the owner on a leash.
The new hospital expansion wing’s a dream.Brand-new monitors, smooth workflow, everything in the right place.But shiny floors and pristine walls don’t save lives.Not like this morning… when you’re praying a kid makes it through the next hour.I don’t know how to shut off that part of my brain.I wish Regan was here so I could talk to her and be near her and feel her comforting presence because she gets this part of our job.It’s hard.
