His gaze drops to my bracelet, to the Rod of Asclepius charm. “Let’s start with why you became a doctor.”
My lips flatten as I stare into his eyes. I’m battling myself. The thing is, I do want to open up to him, share some part of myself in hopes that he’ll open up to me. But I can’t trust him.
He searches my face then a knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Stay put.” With one smooth motion, he pushes himself out of the water and returns with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Sliding back into the water next to me with a small splash, he pours the gold bubbly into the glasses.Handing me one, he clinks it. “To askin’ questions instead of making assumptions.”
I take a sip and watch him carefully for any sign of deception. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“Aye.” He swallows and looks at me expectantly.
I follow the motion of his Adam’s apple bobbing with his swallow. The side of his muscular neck has a black, Gaelic script tattoo. His pulse is a heavy, slow beat beneath it. I move my attention back to his mouth.
He rubs a thumb over his bottom lip. “Go on. Answer the question.”
I’m glad I’m under water because goosebumps break out over my body. Here in this intimate space, surrounded by comforting hot bubbles, champagne and the sea air, I’m having a hard time holding onto my secrets. But then again, that’s probably his plan.
I sigh. I guess there’s no harm in answering this one question. “I was raised by my grandma. She was disabled and couldn’t do much, so the way she bonded with me was TV. She loved the medical dramas. I began to fantasize about having the life that I saw on TV. Saving lives, doing something important. Making her proud.”
“Your grandma? What happened to your parents?” he asks.
Will he think less of me if I tell him the truth?I guess we’ll see because his proximity, his full attention is making me all melty and weak. I couldn’t resist him if I tried. And clearly I’m not trying at all.
I lean my head back to stare up at the stars. “My parents were young when they had me. Young and a wreck. My momhad three miscarriages after me, which caused her to spiral into a deep depression and then addiction. When I was seven, it took her life.” A plane blinks as it crosses my field of vision. “My dad was never around. He was a gambler. After we buried my mom, he lost everything. The house. The shitty little Subaru. My Grandma Bess was my mom’s mom. She took me in when Dad disappeared. I honestly have no idea if he’s even alive. He’s never tried to contact me if he is. How fucked up is that?”
I steal a glance at Killian. His expression is soft as he studies me. I’m happy to see there’s no pity there. More like understanding. He watches me quietly, waiting for more. I laugh self-consciously. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
His brows slowly rise. “Then spending time under the stars in a hot tub with a sexy as hell, intelligent woman? No.”
I groan and smile. I can’t help it. He’s infuriatingly charming, even if he is just trying to pump me for information. “Then it’s your turn,” I whisper. “Tell me why you don’t like me.” I hate the way my voice reveals the vulnerability I’m feeling. It’s too late to take it back, though.
His eyes close and he blows out a deep breath. After a few moments of struggling for the right words, his voice is gruff as he finally says, “It’s not personal.”
I huff out my frustration. “That’s what your dad said. But it feels personal, Killian.”
Killian’s eyes sharpen. He scans my face, and I feel it like a caress. Finally, he swallows the rest of the champagne in his glass then turns away from me. “When I was nineteen, I had a baby on the way. A girl. My girlfriend was five months pregnant, waitin’ for me at an outdoor café when a drunk driver plowed into the tables.” His voice breaks on the last word. He’s swallowing hard, unable to go on.
Oh, God.Obviously, this is an unresolved trauma. My heart aches. I want to reach out to comfort him, but I don’t move. He’s deep in thought, in the past and I don’t want to disturb him. I can see the emotion playing out over his expression, the rage, sadness, grief. He’s back there in that moment. Reliving it. It’s not a memory neatly tucked away yet. All I can do is give him the space to feel it.
Finally, he continues, but his voice is flat. “There was a severed artery in her leg. So much blood. A doctor was there but she… she only gave Amber a few seconds of her time then moved on to a lad with a hurt arm. A bloody hurt arm. He wasn’t dyin’ in front of her. I begged her to stay and help Amber and our baby. She just basically said sorry, we were on our own.”
“Oh, Killian.”
A female doctor associated with what was probably the worst day of his life?
I think back to when we first met in Sandro’s place, his change of demeanor as soon as he found out I was a doctor. I understand why I was a trigger now. “That’s awful. I’m sorry you lost your family.”
He turns to me, eyes haunted by ghosts of grief and loss. “What would you have done in that situation?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know how bad it was. But…” Holding his gaze, I try to gently deliver the truth. “If it was a femoral artery, there’s not much any doctor could have done in the field. Did she apply pressure and a tourniquet?”
His nostrils flare, his reply a devastated whisper. “Aye.”
I do reach out to him then, because the heartbreak in his eyes is too much to ignore. I slide my fingers through his. “I’m so sorry.”
His gaze travels over my face, unguarded for the first time, letting me see the unmasked devastation he lives with. He squeezes my hand then releases it, refilling our champagne glasses. As he touches my glass with his, he clears his throat. “To new beginnings.”
I’m not sure what he’s referring to, but his walls have lowered. Anger and suspicion are no longer simmering beneath his gaze. There’s a new heat as he watches me take a mouthful of the champagne.
I let the tingling fizz linger on my tongue before I swallow. His eyes lock on my mouth as he says, “Your turn. Is your grandmother still alive?”
