Page 51 of Dr. Intern

“Why?”

It’s not that I feel like I need Parker’s permission to date Claire. This isn’t the 1800s, and from what I know about their relationship, I doubt his opinion would really matter to her. But, I also respect Parker enough to give him a heads-up about us. So as much as it pains me to draw a line in the sand . . . I have to.

“Because I’m not one to keep secrets from the people I care about,” I answer truthfully. “He might be your brother, but he’s also one of my best friends.”

Claire sighs again, disappointment clear in her tone. “Ugh, he really does ruin everything.”

I chuckle, turning to my side so I can face her. Claire’s room doesn’t have curtains, so the faint glow of city light illuminates her face just enough for me to catch her curious expression.

“Final question, I promise,” she says softly.

“Shoot.”

“When are you going to talk to him?”

I didn’t anticipate this happening between us, so I have to pause for a moment before I reply.

“We’ve got this intern retreat right after Thanksgiving, and Parker drew the short stick as the youngest attending so he’s leading it. I’ll do it then.”

Her voice carries a mix of hope and uncertainty. “And once you do?”

“I’ll make up for all of the days that you spent thinking I didn’t want you. You won’t ever question my intentions again, because your entire body will feel me every time you walk. Every move you make will reinforce that you are, unequivocally, the only thing that I want.”

Chapter 20

Beau

On my way out of the condo this morning, I made Claire a fresh pot of coffee with a bottle of Ibuprofen and a note. Don’t ask me why I started writing the notes, because I genuinely don’t know. At first, I guess I thought she hated me, so I wanted to do it as a nice gesture. But then, I noticed that she kept them in a drawer underneath the coffee pot, so I figured if she wasn’t balling them up and lighting them on fire, she must not entirely loathe me.

Call it a gesture of peace. Call it a manifestation of my obsession with her. Whatever you call it, I haven’t been able to stop since the day I moved in.

When I was growing up, my dad used to leave my mom similar notes on days that he had long surgeries. Mom is a physician too, but she only ever worked in the clinic which meant she had a much more predictable schedule. I have no idea what their notes said, but I guess the concept always stuck with me.

To be fair, that was also before the days of cell phones and texts, so my parents were limited in their communication methods, but I've always remembered the smile on my mom’s face when she read them in the morning. There’s something incredibly intimate about the gesture. Anyone can shoot off a text, but a handwritten note says you value the other person more than your time.And I do—I value Claire more than anything.

The note I left her this morning was amusing, at least to me. I’m hoping it’ll lighten the mood and help her feel less awkward about what happened last night. It’s important to me that she understands, despite her hazy recollection of the evening, that I am one hundred and ten percent in on this thing between us.

And yes, I know that’s not a real score, but it’s a genuine reflection of my feelings. I’m all in . . . and then some.

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby on Claire’s floor. Had I gone upstairs, I would’ve worried about her all night. Even though she sobered up quite a bit by the time we turned in, if my medical training has taught me anything, it’s that you can never be too careful. I’ve seen lots of stuff in the hospital that was initially tagged as nothing, only to end up as something major later on, so I’m overly cautious about this kind of thing.

I just wish I wasn’t at the hospital for the next five days straight because it means I won’t be able to see her much. Thanksgiving is one of the busiest times when it comes to surgeries, and the department needs all hands on deck. I might be a walking, talking zombie by the time this week is over, but that’s how it goes when you’re at the bottom of the surgical food chain.

Truthfully though, it’s probably for the best that I’m working so much, considering I’m starting to doubt my self-control around Claire. Our hookup two months ago can easily be explained by ignorance—I had no idea she was Parker’s sister.

But would that knowledge even have held me back?

Doubtful.

She was so damn electric that night, I could barely think straight enough to respond to her coherently, let alone stop myself from taking things too far.

The biggest issue is that Parker trusted me to look after Claire. And I fully intend to continue doing that. But, I also plan on fucking her silly—which is why I need to have a conversation with him before I take this any further.

I value the friendship Parker and I have built over the past year, and I truly owe him everything when it comes to this residency and my career. He’s not just my best friend, he’s become like an older brother to me. Because my brother lives in another city and has a family of his own, he doesn’t have a ton of time for me, so Parker has kind of filled that void. And I don’t want to do something that will fuck that up.

If I talk to Parker like a man and let him know my intentions, there’s no way he can have an issue with me dating his sister. In his eyes, I wouldn’t think there would be anyone better.

After my first case this morning, I shot Cass a text to confirm that Claire wouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving. Not that there’s anything I can do about it directly, but it would make me feel better if her first holiday without her mom was filled with family and laughter, especially because Parker is going to be stuck at the hospital with me.

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