“I’m not worried about that. I only care that you’re okay. You deserve better treatment than that. I’m sorry you had to deal with him. We’ll get him set up in a private room with restraints. I’m sorry, Elias. I can’t trust him not to hurt others. I can’t risk that.”
“I understand. I appreciate the help.” I wince, my hand cupping my cheek.
“Dr. Carrington. Here you go.” Nurse Jackie hands me an ice pack, and to my surprise, there’s no pity in her eyes—only anger.
“Thank you, Jackie.” I place the ice pack on the bruised cheek, hoping by chance it helps my ego too.
All I find myself wanting to do is call the woman who’s been taking over my mind. All I want to do is tell her about what happened tonight. I don’t know why.
But I know I can’t.
6
OLIVIA
A large cupof coffee invades my vision. Dr. Warrick teases it, bringing it closer only to pull it away again, trying to get me to stop what I’m doing, which is working on his schedule. He is the busiest man I know who would rather take the day second by second.
I can’t imagine the chaos that would bring if he didn’t have me.
Finally succumbing to the delicious sent of a caramel mocha latte, I glance up from the screen, wafting a hand over the lid to wave the smell toward me.
“You’re like a fish. That was too easy to do.”
I snatch the latte from him, rushing to take a sip, and I groan when it warms my soul. I’ve already had a cup of coffee today, but this one is from that shop a few doors down. I don’t know their secret. It’s the best coffee I’ve ever had.
Immediately, I know something is up with him because when he brings me coffee from this shop, he either needs something, or there’s something special happening. I’ve worked for him for too long and I know his tricks.
I quirk a brow, pushing my back against the chair to recline a little while I look up at him. “What is it? What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. Why would you say that? I can’t bring my favorite assistant coffee?”
I swallow the warm liquid, quirking a brow. “You’re a horrible liar. Out with it.”
He lifts a shoulder, taking a sip of his own drink. “I just wanted to get you something while I was out. It’s no big deal.”
I lean forward, and the chair squeaks. “Then, I can tell you about the worst date I’ve ever been on, since you have no news.”
He leans his hip against my desk, crossing one ankle over another. “That bad?”
“It’s a war zone out there, Dr. Warrick. A war zone.” I frown, thinking about all the horrible moments of the date itself. “By the time it ended, I dumped my gin and tonic on him and ran out of the restaurant, leaving him with the bill. Which he didn’t want to pay for anyway. Listen, I would have happily split the bill. It was the way he said it, is all. And he kept stealing my damn drinks for himself. He was rude and called my job useless. He said I didn’t have any dreams.” I frown at that memory, wondering if there was any truth to his words.
I’ve never cared about where I work as long as the job is good and has decent benefits. The only thing I care about is my happiness. I have that here at Warrick General. Maybe that’s where I lack imagination.
I never wanted a job that took over my life. That’s what I see all the time when it comes to people following their dreams. Theirpassion becomes a need, and their entire life revolves around keeping the dream alive. It seems exhausting to me.
Every day I see nurses, surgeons, and doctors in this hospital, fighting to stay awake, stealing a ten-minute nap in the break room so they can make it through the rest of their shift. The dream stops having passion and drains the life out of that person, and it’s a vicious cycle. They have to keep the momentum going; they can’t stop. The dream has consumed them now and without it, people forget who they are.
It’s the last thing I want for myself.
I want to work at a job I like, so my life outside of work can be what I want it to be. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Hearing the guy I went on a date with telling me I have no dreams or aspirations really hurt more than I like to admit.
The real reason I’m so comfortable with not wanting more is that my dream was to always have a big family. I don’t want a job that will take me away from my children. That has always been my plan, but if dating is anything like it was last night, I might need to reconsider my options.
“Well, that’s actually a perfect segue,” Dr. Warrick says. “Not that I like that you went on a bad date. That guy seems like a real asshole. He doesn’t deserve you or any woman, for that matter.” He grabs the cushioned leather chair that’s in front of my desk, dragging it around to sit in front of me. “Don’t let him get into your head. You’re damn good at what you do. I wouldn’t run like the well-oiled machine I am if it weren’t for you. Few can do this job, Olivia. It’s demanding and time-consuming. It can be exhausting, especially with someone like me. My schedule is always changing. This job is demanding, and—” He taps his fingers on the side of his cup. “Well, that’s why what I’m aboutto ask you, you’ll need to think about. I’ll need even more from you.”
My heart begins to hammer in my chest, a nervous sweat slicking my palms. I set the cup down on the desk, wiping my hands on my pleated jeans.
“Have I not been doing a good job?” My brows pinch together in confusion, because he just said I was doing great but now he’s saying he needs more from me. “I mean, tell me what to do and I’ll do it, Dr. Warrick. I love working here. Don’t fire me yet. Just let me know what you need me to do and I’ll do it better.” Panic claws at my throat, emotion bubbling in my chest like water getting ready to boil over. Even my eyes become misty as I hold back tears.
