“Inside keeps my thoughts in one place,” I say, the honesty surprising even me.
Her brows lift, and then she… laughs.
“What’s funny about that?”
“It makes sense to me. That’s all.” She watches me for a second, then tilts her head. “So why trauma medicine?”
“I like knowing exactly what to do when things go wrong.”
It’s a half-truth, but it’s the only part I’m willing to give away for free. She nods once, recognizing theboundary I’ve just drawn.
I straighten. “I should go. Let you sleep.”
“Thank you for dinner.”
“Get some rest, Madison.” I turn toward the door.
“Beckett?”
I look back. She’s watching me from the shadows of the couch.
“I don’t mind that you keep your thoughts in one place, but could you do it quietly?”
“Can’t do that.”
She frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I enjoy arguing with you far too much to stop now.”
A faint blush creeps across her cheeks, and her lips spread into a real, devastating smile.
“You’re flirting with me, Doc. Get out of here. I’m injured.”
“Goodnight,” I say, my hand on the doorknob.
Then I leave before I forget why that’s the right choice.
Twenty-Five
Madison
The ceiling of my bedroom is a blank gray canvas, and I’ve been staring at it for exactly three hours.
It’s 2:00 a.m.
Usually, I treat the silence of my apartment like a luxury. It’s a reward for a day spent drowning in other people’s noise. Tonight, it just feels heavy. I toss from my left side to my right, but the sheets are too cool, the pillows are too smooth, and everything feels fundamentallywrong.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I let myself cry. I’ve built a career out of being the person who doesn’t bleed. Yet here I am, having leaked tears infront of Beckett Lawson.
Twice. In the same damn day.
God, Madison. Why don’t you just hand him a roadmap to your insecurities while you’re at it?
I’m mortified, but beneath the layers of humiliation is a truth I’ve spent a decade burying under high-waisted power suits and cold-blooded negotiations.
I’m lonely.
It’s a pathetic word. It’s a word for people who don’t have a successful career, or a Wine Night with friends they’d die for, or a family—even if mine is dysfunctional. But in the dark, in a mind that never stops calculating the next move, the truth is unavoidable. For too long, I thought affection was something reserved for movies with swelling soundtracks and soft lighting.
