Page 49 of Examining the Bond

“Oh…” My heart wrenches at the disappointment-laden syllable.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose, mentally kicking myself for doing this, but it really is what’s best. And I have to remind myself that I’m her doctor first. Lover—or whatever I am to her—second.

“I’m truly sorry,” I say, rocking my head back to stare up at the ceiling. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s okay, I understand. Shit happens.” She chuckles lightly, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation. “Should I come into the office tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I answer a little too quickly and clear my throat to cover it up. “Yes. Preferably early. It doesn’t matter what time; I’ll fit you in when you get here.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

With a pang of disappointment, I hang up and scrub my hands over my face. Now that that’s handled, I can try to focus on more important things: like how the hell I’m supposed to break this news to her tomorrow.

How can I possibly sum up what it means for her? What it means for me?

Hell, what it means for the entire world of research?

After staring at her sequenced DNA for another minute, I close out of the program and hop over to my email, on the off chance that any of the other research facilities have replied. It’s a long shot, being that it’s Friday, and I didn’t send the message until after lunch.

My eyes flick over the subject lines in my inbox:

Beat the heat with savings! 10% off all suppressants

The rut, the bad, and the ugly; Fix those alpha pheromones.

Undetermined Patient

My heart threatens to slam through my ribcage as I click the most recent email, and my eyes grow wide as I read over the message.

“Oh shit…”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

RIANN

It has no fucking business being this cold.

The weather app on my phone says the temperature has dropped two degrees since yesterday, and it’s expected to go even lower tonight.

Knowing it’s probably not wise to push my luck—and risk Skylar’s job a second time—I dress in something much more practical for the weather. Fleece-lined leggings and a sage green sweater dress. Too nervous to order breakfast, I take my time doing my makeup, hoping Skylar will approve. Red lips, winged liner, and mascara that makes my blue eyes pop.

Then, I pull on my favorite ankle boots and sling the strap of my cross-body over my head before leaving for the Buchanan Center.

I’m shaking with nerves by the time I check in and take a seat in the waiting area. I’m so eager to see Skylar again, especiallysince she had to cancel last night. It was disappointing, but I have to be understanding. She’s a doctor; it was probably some emergency that kept her away.

Still, the tiniest part of me worries that she regrets what happened in her office. That she regrets staying the night and waking up with me yesterday. Not knowing is the worst part, and I’m drowning in questions.

What if she changed her mind? What if she decided she wants it to be a one time thing? What if she doesn’t want to see me again but has to because I’m her patient?

Nausea turns my stomach; I don’t remember ever being so anxious.

The seconds drag by as I wait, and I’m doom scrolling on my phone when my name is finally called. My head snaps up, and I’m expecting to see a nurse waiting for me, but Skylar is there instead, a folder in her hands.

She’s wearing a maroon button-up that looks incredible against her tan skin and a striped tie beneath her open lab coat. The hint of a smile lifts the corner of her mouth, and my heart is instantly in my throat.

I snap to my feet, confused, but overjoyed to see her. Gaze locked on her gorgeous face, I take a few shaky steps forward, and that’s when I see the bags under her eyes.

She looks fucking exhausted.