Page 22 of Doctor's Bossy Match
She’s standing there, clipboard clutched in one hand, coffee mug in the other.Her hair is pulled back now, a few stray strands escaping around her face.She stumbles back a step, barely avoiding a spill.
“Whoa—Sorry,” I say, catching her elbow instinctively before she can topple over.“Didn’t see you.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine.“Apparently not.”
I drop my hand and step back, giving her space, trying to keep things neutral, my shoulders tight from the sudden tension in the air.“You alright?”
“Fine,” she says, her voice clipped and cool, just like her father’s.“Just heading to see my dad.He’s asked to see me.”
We stand for a beat too long, the hallway too quiet.The air feels thick, like we both know there’s a conversation hanging between us, one neither of us wants to start.
I clear my throat, the awkwardness nagging at me.“For what it’s worth… that article?I had nothing to do with it.And nothing in it is true.”
She arches an eyebrow, her gaze cool but calculating.“I didn’t think it was.”
Feeling the heat of her stare, I shift on my feet.“Good, but…” I trail off, unsure what I’m even trying to say.
She exhales, a soft sigh that makes her shoulders drop just a fraction.“I just want to be treated like a doctor, not a headline.”
Fair enough.
Her frustration is clear, even if she’s doing her best to mask it.
“I didn’t ask for the headline,” I say.“I disagreed with you.”
Her eyes flash, intense as ever.“You questioned me in front the nurses.”
“Because you were wrong about the sedative support.”
“And you were condescending.”
My patience wearing thin, I sigh as I run a hand through my hair.“Okay.Maybe I was.You’re new.Let’s try not to let gossip set the tone for the rest of the year.”
She studies me, her eyes narrowing slightly, and I expect her to walk away.
Then, after what feels like an eternity, she nods once.“Fine.Truce.”
“Truce.”I offer a quick nod, letting the tension ease.
Without another word, she turns and walks down the hall toward her father’s office, but calls over her shoulder, “Still doesn’t mean you were right about that case.”
I can’t help it; there’s a flicker of a smile on my face as I watch her disappear down the corridor.
God help me.I think I just made things more complicated.
Chapter 8
Regan
Iknockoncebeforepushing the door open.
Dad doesn’t look up right away.Just gestures for me to sit as he finishes typing something.His jaw is locked.That’s never a good sign.
I drop into the chair across from him and brace for whatever’s coming.Dad called me in here right after Harrison left.I saw him walking out when I turned the corner.This can’t be a coincidence.Something’s happened.Maybe a patient?Or… my stomach drops as it dawns on me: the article.It has to be about the article.
“You’ve read it?”he asks, still not looking at me.
“I did,” I say quietly.“On my way to rounds.”
