Page 19 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

Brooke: Pays to be you.

The guilt twists in my stomach as I type out my reply, my thumbs hesitating over the screen.

Me: I would’ve told him to wait until morning, but the director is an ass, so I need to be there, or he’ll use it as a reason to replace me.

Brooke: What the hell, woman. You need to call me when you can. You’ve been holding out on me. Are you in pain?

Me: No, they gave me some strong drugs. My head feels funny, but the pain is so much better.

Brooke: Oh, God. You’re stressing me out.

Me: Please don’t. I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Brooke: Oh, I will. Good luck. I love you x.

Me: I love you too x

The next forty minutes blur together. One minute, I’m hanging up with my manager, Candace, who’s already on the phone with Dain and the production company’s insurance coordinator. She’s handling the injury report, the liability questions, and I’ve instructed her to tell them I’ll be back in a day or two and that this is a minor setback.

A nurse in her late fifties pushes me down the corridor. We stop in a small holding area outside the operating room where I talk to the anesthesiologist. She has kind eyes and a soothing voice that reminds me of my mom’s.

Then I see movement in the corner of my right eye.

Dr. Sterling stands there, arms crossed over his navy scrubs, his broad shoulders and tall frame filling the doorway. My heart rate increases as his icy glare fixes on me, and I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong for this surgeon to give me such a disgusted look. Now I’m worried about having surgery with him, but the nurse pushing me assured me that he was the best surgeon on staff, and if I wanted to get it fixed properly, then he’s my man.

Right now, he doesn’t look like anyone’s man. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Dr. Cooper finishes talking to me, explaining every step. Her warm, funny personality is exactly what I need when he’s standing there in the background, hovering, watching, and intimidating us with his sour mood.

She steps away, nodding at him with what looks like encouragement. He doesn’t give her a second glance. He just grabs my file from her hands and moves toward me with long strides. My breath catches as he comes close, and I lift my head to look up at him, waiting for him to speak. “How are you feeling?”

His eyes stay fixed on the paper clipped to the board, and I wonder if he actually meant to ask or if it’s just an automatic question. But then his gaze shifts, his head tips slightly to the side, and I realize he’s genuinely asking.

Something in me crumbles. I’ve been holding it together… the fall, the hospital, the surgery prep, the phone calls where I pretended everything was fine. I’ve been so focused on damage control and logistics and protecting my career that I haven’t actually let myself feel anything. But sitting here on this gurney, about to go into surgery, with this stranger looking at me like he actually cares about the answer, it hits me.

I’m terrified.

“Truthfully?” My voice cracks. “I’m scared. I haven’t had any surgery before.”

The confession falls from my lips so easily it surprises me.

I expect him to brush my worries away with clinical detachment, but he shocks me by stepping around the gurney and taking the seat Dr. Cooper just vacated. The chair scrapes softly against the floor.

His gaze is level with mine now, and I don’t feel so small anymore.

“What scares you the most?” He lays the clipboard on his lap, his long fingers resting on its edge. His face remains blank. I can’t read a single thought behind those harsh features. He doesn’t sound bored, but his tone doesn’t scream happy to be here either.

“A few things,” I admit.

“Such as?” He raises one dark eyebrow, and even that small movement feels measured.

I sigh, my fingers twisting in the thin hospital blanket. “First, dying on the table.”

I expect him to laugh at my dramatic admission, maybe even roll his eyes. But he doesn’t. His composure remains completely professional as he says, “Dr. Cooper is a fantastic doctor. You’re in safe hands. She won’t let anything happen to you.”

“How do you know that?” I challenge.

The smallest movement twitches at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but something close to human. “I can’t guarantee anything, but you’re young and healthy. Your chances of complications are lower than most of my patients.”