Page 74 of Fourteen of a Kind

“Maybe because it’s hard being back here without my parents.”

“I get that, but I think there’s more to it. The pills you’re taking are to help at night for people with PTSD and nightmares.”

I inhaled a sharp breath.

“And that night, you freaked out about the fireworks. What happened to you, Graham?”

“Nothing happened to me, Ella,” I shouted. “Damn. Leave it alone! I can’t believe you dug into my past. You just don’t stumble upon an article unless you went looking for it. My mother died in a car accident here. My father died of a heart attack here. It’s hard because I haven’t been back here since I was thirteen. And the only reason I’m back is for the fellowship program,” I shouted.

“You don’t have to shout at me!”

“Yeah, I do. You went digging into my past. All you had to do was ask me.”

“I did ask you!” she yelled as she stood up from the couch. “And you lied to me!”

“Then I guess you can’t trust me. Maybe you should go.”

“Graham,” she softly spoke.

“Get out, Ella!” I shouted, pointing to the door.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes as she grabbed her purse.

“I can help you with whatever you’re going through,” she said.

“I don’t want or need your help!”

She shook her head and walked out the door. I threw my bottle at the wall, and it shattered.

CHAPTER 23

Ella

I drove home, wiping the tears that streamed down my face. Fuck him. I was done. Stepping inside the house, it was late. I went upstairs and started the water for a bath. After pouring in some lavender-scented bubbles, I sank until the water reached my neck. My phone pinged. Reaching over the tub, I looked at it and saw a text from Graham.

“Did you make it home safely?”

I dropped my phone to the floor. It wasn’t any of his business whether I made it home safely or not. After my bath, I climbed into bed, tossing and turning because I couldn’t shut my brain off. Dr. Graham Malone wasn’t who I thought he was. I don’t make mistakes. I never did. I was too smart to make them. But when it came to guys, I did.

The following morning, after my first surgery, I went up to the rooftop for a coffee. Turning around with the cup in my hand, I saw Graham step off the elevator.

Shit.

“You didn’t respond to my text last night,” he said, approaching me.

“Why would I after what happened?” I began to walk away, and he lightly took hold of my arm.

“Ella, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not talking about this here,” I spoke through gritted teeth. “I have a surgery to scrub in for.”

“I know. You’re removing a tumor from a ten-year-old boy’s head. Dr. Ashley assigned me to watch and assist you.”

“Great. Just great.” I yanked my arm out of his grip and looked at Uncle Christian, who stood staring at us.

I took a few sips of my coffee and dumped it before heading into the scrub room.

“What happened up on the rooftop?” My Uncle Christian walked into the room.

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