I want to interrupt and remind her that she was far from actually killing someone. We are a team and everyone in the OR would jump in to make sure that didn’t happen, but there’s something else behind this. Something tells me her worries are coming from a different source. So I bite my tongue, hoping she will continue.
“I thought I had given my dad another reason to doubt me.” She laughs, a quiet, gurgly sound, as the emotion thickens in her throat. She raises a hand up to swipe the tears that have gathered in her lower lids, and I find myself inching forward, reaching for her.
My hand finds hers, and I slowly tangle our fingers together, gently squeezing so she knows I’m here. My thumb rubs along her soft skin, urging her to continue.
“God,” she says through a chuckle, using her free hand to wipe her other eye. “This is so stupid. I’m almost a thirty-year-old woman still begging for daddy’s blessing. This is pathetic.”
I squeeze her hand, ushering her to look at me, and she pauses for a second, sniffling before turning to face me.
I let go of her to bring both hands up to grip the sides of her face. Her body sags a little, her hands coming to grip my biceps. “It’s not pathetic,” I tell her. And it’s not. The entire time I’ve known Richard, he led me to believe that his daughter was this flighty, naive little girl. The girl he spoke of is a far cry from the woman standing in front of me. The one I’ve gotten to know over the last few months. The one I know is strong. Fierce. She’s smart, kind, and lays herself on the line to care for others. “It’s not pathetic,” I tell her again. “And I’m going to need you to look at me when I tell you this.”
Ushering her chin up with my thumbs, I make sure her eyes stay locked on mine. “You’renot pathetic. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting your dad to be proud of you.” I chuckle awkwardly. “I can relate to that, to wanting someone's approval so badly you drive yourself crazy trying to make it happen. But you…” I pause, my eyes darting back and forth across her face. “You don’t have anything left to prove. You are right where you should be, doing exactly what you were meant to be. You’re meant to be a surgeon, Annie.” I don’t miss the slight parting of her lips and the intake of breath at the mention of her nickname. “You will finish out the year here, then go back overseas, and be a hell of a surgeon. You will go on to have a successful career whether certain people are ready to acknowledge that or not.”
Somewhere along my speech, she moved closer to me. So close we’re chest to chest, and her hands have fallen to grasp my shirt, her hold so tight it’s like she’s using me as a lifeline. I loosen my grip a little, letting my hands slide around her neck to intertwine my fingers together. “I will not let you fail. Do you hear me?” I let my words sink in as my eyes dance across her face. “I. Will. Not. Let. You. Fail. Tell me you believe me.”
She smiles a soft, sad smile, and nods once, but it isn’t enough.
“Annie.” I tsk, squeezing her neck gently. “Tell me you’re a badass.”
She finally laughs, a melodic, beautiful laugh through her tears. “Stop,” she teases. “I get your point.” She tries to lower her arms to back away from me, but I keep her held close.
“That’s not what I asked you to do. Tell me you believe me. Tell me you’re a badass.”
Her gaze is back on my face, and she rolls her eyes at me, the act bringing a smile to my own. “You’re cute when you roll your eyes, but I’m still waiting.”
She huffs a laugh, her chest practically falling into mine. Her head lowers, and I say a silent “fuck it” before pulling her into me. I wrap my arms around her, and she immediately coils herself around my waist, her head falling to rest on the center of my chest. We hold each other for a quiet moment, the comfort radiating through my small office. I hold her for as long as she will let me. I think that if I squeeze her tight enough, I might be able to pull out some of that insecurity that drags her down.
“I’m a badass,” she finally murmurs against my chest, causing me to chuckle. I squeeze her once to release her with one arm, and bring my palm again to her chin to tilt her face up to mine.
“There, was that so hard to admit?”
She smiles, bringing her free hand up to playfully slap me, but I snatch it mid-air. We stumble to the side, and I catch her by the wrist, pushing her against the wall.
I meant the act to be playful, something to get her out of her own head and away from her bad thoughts, but the move has put us incredibly close.
She’s pinned between me and the wall, our bodies pressed up against one another the way they are every time I let my mind wander. She’s looking up at me, my hand that held her face has moved and my thumb now swipes gently against the apple of her cheek.
Her arms are back on me, running slowly up my arms to grab my biceps, and when she licks her bottom lip, I’m a goner.
“Annie,” I murmur, tilting my head so low my lips nearly brush hers as I speak. “We can’t do this.”
“You say that,” she whispers in the miniscule space between us. “Yet you’re the one who has me pressed against the wall.” She arches her back, the movement causing her breasts to rub against my chest, and through the chunky fabric of her sweater, I can feel everything. Blood courses through my veins, heartbeat galloping wildly in my chest.
“Your dad…” I trail off, cringing internally at the mention of his name in a moment like this.
She sighs heavily. “My dad is an asshole, we both know that. You can’t—”
We’re interrupted by the bellow of her dad laughing outside the door. My blood runs cold as I study the lack of space between us, knowing there is no way I could come up with an excuse that explains why I have Richard’s daughter pressed against the wall with my thigh between her legs.
I release my grip on her the same time she pushes me away, and she slides into the chair in front of my desk. I quickly pull out an old report I had saved and hand it over to her.
Her eyes fall to the paper just as Richard pushes my door open, and she pretends to study it as if it means something to her.
He calls over to me, not even acknowledging his daughter is in the room. “Colt,” he gestures over his shoulder. “My office. I have a case I want your opinion on.”
He exits in the same abrupt fashion he arrived in, leaving the door hanging open.
Annaliese tosses the papers on the table, her gaze locked on its place.
