Her eyes dart back and forth across mine for a minute before she starts, “Timelines can be a funny thing. Do you really owe your career to my dad? Or did he see someone that had the brains, the work ethic, the motivation, but just doubted themselves? I thinkyouare the one that built your life from scratch. I think he just happened to be working at the hospital you were hired at. I think he saw something in you. Yes, maybe he taught you well. But I think you would have learned just as much from any other attending you came across.” She leans closer to me with every sentence that comes from her mouth, her hand raising to poke a finger into my chest as she says her next piece. “I think he saw something in you, and I think he knew you were doubting yourself. He feasted on that, and somehow got you to believe that you wouldn’t be where you are today without him. He rode your coat tails all the way toyoursuccess and let you believe that you wouldn’t have found your way on your own. You don’t know that your moment, that your path, didn’t just happen to cross with his encouragement. It’s bullshit. I see it plain as day, and I wish like hell you could see it too. And now…”
She trails off, shaking her head with an aggravated groan as she unbuckles her seat belt. “Never mind. It’s all in vain, but from where I’m sitting, you are the one that created your own success. Not him. You just need to decide where your loyalties lie. To him, or to yourself.”
She grabs her purse from where it fell at her feet and reaches for the door handle, shoving it open as her leg darts out to land on the sidewalk.
“Annie, wait, I—”
Her head whips back at the pure desperation in my voice, and when she sees my face, her posture softens, just a little. She leans back in the seat, a palm reaching out to rest on my cheek.
I lean into her touch, inhaling sharply because every time she touches me it’s like this. A warm comfort washes over me, and leaves me craving more.
“Just think about it,” she says, her thumb grazing my cheek once. “Just really think about what you want. What happiness would look like to you. This is your life, Colt. At the end of the day, life is way too fucking short to spend it watering someone else’s lawn. Don’t waste this life when there are better people you could be surrounding yourself with, people who want to see you succeed without wondering what they will gain from it.”
I turn my head slightly to press a kiss to the center of her palm. The corner of her lip ticks up in a smile, barely, and my heart sinks.
“Good night, Colt. Thank you for the ride.”
I don’t whisper good night until she slams the car door in my face. I watch as she safely enters the building and turns the corner. I wait the time it would take for her to take the elevator to her floor, and once I see the light flick on in her apartment, I put the car in drive and slowly make my way back home, alone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Colter
Imakeitthreemoredays before the thread holding me back from claiming Annaliese snaps.
I’ve felt the bands surrounding my chest grow tighter with each interaction. Every time her face lights up as I enter the room, the band twists a little more.
It’s so damn tight that I woke up this morning barely able to breathe after dreaming about her all night long, wondering how I’m going to survive like this.
The first string started to fray the moment I saw her this morning. She waltzed into my office with her coffee mug in hand, hair still damp from her shower, with her coconut scent radiating across my desk and infiltrating my senses. Once I was nearly dizzy from the smell, she pursed her lips and blew the steam from her mug, and I wished her lips would do that to my cock.
Snap.
I managed to hold it together when we were in the OR. But I soon caught myself watching the expressions on her face instead of her hands working on our patient. I’ve studied her so much that I don’t need to see her full face to know what she’s thinking. Her mask allows me to see her eyes, which is all I need.
She squints, just a little, when she’s concentrating. The skin on the inner corner of her eye crinkles a bit and I know that she’s pursed her lips together, moving them from side to side as she ponders her next step.
Her face is relaxed when she’s in the zone and listening to the god-awful 80s heartthrob playlist I’ve now allowed to play. Every once in a while she will tap her head to the side along with the beat, and I know she’s mouthing the words behind the mask.
But my favorite is when she senses my gaze on her and her eyes flick up to mine. Round, dark chocolate, and so deep I have to catch my breath. They’re wide and still for a second until her cheeks rise and I know there is a full-fledged smile under her mask. She catches me every time and I don’t care.
Snap.
I’m hanging by one spindly, barren fiber by the end of the day when Richard stops me. I’ve just finished consulting with another attending for a big case next week, ready to march back to my office and suffer through another excruciating meeting with Annaliese about her research project when Richard catches me walking by.
He calls my name, and I find myself rolling my eyes as I stop in place, spinning on a heel to turn back to his office.
I’ve strayed from our routine this last month or so. Once I let my feelings for Annaliese dictate my every thought, I no longer have the desire to meet with her dad each morning to leisurely sip coffee in his office. I no longer follow up to see how his day is going in between cases, or to catch a drink after work with him.
I am utterly, and entirely, consumed by his daughter instead.
The guilt that follows that thought eats away at me somewhat, but the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve to have her love and respect counteracts some of that guilt.
“Richard,” I greet, crossing the threshold and standing in front of his desk with my hands on my hips. “I’m kind of in a rush, what can I do for you?”
He steeples his hands together and rests his chin on his pointer finger as he stares at me, silently. I leave my hands on my hips, giving him the same unapproving look back as we face off.
He leans back in his chair, a hand coming forward to gesture at the seat in front of his desk. Even though the tension has blanketed our relationship, he is still my superior, and a man I once respected. So I exhale roughly and close the door behind me before taking a seat at his desk. “What’s going on?”
