Then, softly, without looking at me, he says, “I’d still walk away.Because you’re my resident.And I’m supposed to be the example.”I respect him for it, I do.He’s doing the professional thing to protect us both, but it still hurts.
A second passes before he continues.“But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.”
He opens the door and steps aside to let me in, his gaze on the floor, and my heart is nowhere near recovered.
I head back to Brant’s office after rounds to grab my things.It’s just after eight at night, most of the floor’s cleared for the evening, the lights dimmed, the buzz of call bells from patients replaced by soft conversations between nurses passing down the hall.
He’s shrugging into his coat when I step in, hair slightly mussed from the day, tie still perfectly knotted at his throat.It makes me think about the closet, how his eyes dropped to my mouth, and neither of us moved, the way everything shifted in the room to a few degrees hotter, and here we are again… Alone.
“Thought you’d left,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
He glances over, that half-smile tugging at his lips.“Thought I’d finish up some emails.Didn’t expect company.”
“Lucky you.”I push off the wall as the door closes, and I cross the room.
His desk is tidy.Just like him… Controlled, neat, always three steps ahead.Even his posture gives it away; back straight, shoulders square, suit still perfectly intact.
I shouldn’t do this.I know I shouldn’t.But standing here, watching him pack up for the day like nothing happened between us, like we’re just colleagues going through the motions, it makes me want to shake him.To remind him that whatever this is, it’s not nothing.So I make a stupid, reckless choice, but I reach for his tie anyway.
His eyebrows lift.“What are you doing?”
“You’re too buttoned up,” I say, my fingers grazing the knot.My thumb brushes his throat, and he swallows hard.“Even off the clock, you still look like you’re in a meeting.”
“You complaining?”he asks.
“Nope.Just observing.”I loosen the knot slightly.
He remains silent, watching me as his hands stay at his sides.Mine linger on the knot of his tie before meeting his gaze.And for a second, we just stare at each other.
A code comes through the speakers.My heart jumps, waiting to hear if it’s our floor, so neither of us moves.But when it’s not, I let the announcement fade into background noise and focus back on him.
He breaks eye contact first, glancing at my hand on his neck.“Come on.Let’s pretend we have a life and get home.”
I collect my things, and so does Brant, and then he surprises me by opening the door and covering my hand with his.When our fingers touch, my breath catches at the jolt.It’s like defibrillator pads against my now hot skin.His dark gaze lifts, and I swear he leans in.
Until I see my father watching.Across the hall, half in conversation with another doctor, half turned toward us.How much did he see?How long has he been standing there?And what is he thinking right now?I worry he thinks Brant is taking advantage of me, that I’m unprofessional, or worse, that we’re exactly what we look like—two people who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, even with all the reasons we shouldn’t.
I step back.“You go.”I nod toward the exit, trying to sound normal, even though my heart’s sprinting.
Brant clears his throat and straightens his tie.“Goodnight.”
He doesn’t linger, taking off without a second look, case in hand.I stay locked in place as the warmth still pulses beneath my skin like something dangerous.
And when my father finally turns away, I don’t know whether I feel relief or regret.
Maybe both.
Chapter 22
Brant
AsIdrivetothe hospital, my mind keeps replaying Regan’s fingers on my tie, her thumb brushing my throat, the way she looked at me like she was daring me to close the distance between us.And fuck, I wanted to.But then Dr.Thomas appeared in the doorway, and reality crashed back in.
I tell myself I did the right thing.That walking away was the only option.That getting involved with her would be a disaster for both of us.
The second I step into the pediatric wing, I know something’s wrong.The nurses are way too cheerful for a Tuesday.They’re smiling like they know something I don’t, and a few of them rush past me without making eye contact, snickering under their breath.
Then I notice it.
