Page 56 of Dr. Attending

Weston’s broad shoulders shrug, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and I want to open my mouth and tell him that it’s not that easy. I could tell my brother the truth about how I’m doing, but it would be pointless. He wouldn’t understand.

“Listen,” he continues, his expression softening. “Sometimes, when I’m teaching during a case, I’ll tell the resident that they just have to feel their way through it. The same goes for medicalschool, residency, all of it. It’s not easy, and everyone struggles occasionally. Even Parker.”

“Yeah, right,” I reply, hearing the blatant sarcasm in my tone.

I know my brother isn’t perfect in his personal life, obviously. But I doubt he’s ever struggled professionally. Everything he achieves looks so effortless, like he’s a robot that’s genetically programmed to succeed.

“Ask him about the research study during our chief year.”

I scoff. “Oh, I know about that . . . trust me.”

“You do?”

My lips tilt into a reluctant grin. “Yeah, I called him an itsy-bitsy bitch when he finally told me the full story.”

Weston blinks like he’s momentarily stunned. Then, he starts howling with rich laughter that’s so infectious it only makes my smile widen because he’s just so damn hard not to like.

Once Weston catches his breath, he looks at me with sheer admiration. “I wish I had been there to see that. Thanks for defending my honor, princess.”

The nickname doesn’t irritate me like it normally does. Instead, it makes my heart beat just a tad bit faster.

“Oh, I didn’t want to at the time,” I admit. “Especially because my opinion of you was at an all-time low. But even I have limits to my loyalty.”

He chuckles warmly. “And your opinion of me now?”

I pause like I’m mulling over the question.

“Improving.”

I feel my cheeks flush from the sheer honesty of the word, and every instinct that I have makes me want to look away, but I force myself to hold his gaze.

I’ve been searching for reasons to hold Weston at a distance—to stay away from him. But each time we’re together, it gets harder to believe that he’s the man I want to think he is. Especially after today.

“Do you want to know what my opinion of you was back then?” he asks after a moment, his hazel eyes glowing like they’re holding onto a precious secret. “What I thought about the first time we met?”

“Hmmm,” I hum, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “Probably something like, ‘She looks like fun to mess with. I’m going to do everything in my power to irritate her. Hell, I might even cross a line and ruin her first-ever relationship, just for shits and giggles.’”

I expect him to refute my claim, but he doesn’t.

He leans forward, like what he’s about to say is more important than defending himself.

“No, Caroline,” he says with a tone more serious than I ever thought would be possible coming from him. “I thought you were the most beautifully honest person I had ever met in my life. It didn’t take you long to see through my bullshit and call me out. Nobody had done that before, and it’s always stuck with me.”

“I find that genuinely shocking given how much of a fuckboy you were.”I laugh, rolling my eyes.

Weston’s lips quirk into a wistful smile. “I sure was. So just remember that if you’re ever looking for someone to be honest with, you already know how to do that with me.”

I blink at him because I never thought about our relationship like that. But now that he’s made the connection, it’s spot on.

Weston was so inconsequential to me that I never held back with him. I never bothered to portray the perfectly curated version of myself that everyone else wanted to see—the ambitious achiever that I am to my classmates, the perfect peacemaker that I am to my siblings, and the charismatic cheerleader that I am to my friends.

I’ve spent my life wearing so many different faces, but never allowed myself to tap into the person that I truly am—the person that I am with Weston.

The tightness in my body begins to ease, almost like the ever-present pressure to be everything for everyone is gone.

“Honest is the understatement of the century.”

“You don’t say?” Weston chuckles and strokes the defined line of his jaw like he’s trying to jog his memory. “What did you call me after the truth or dare thing? ‘An entitled fuckface with no regard for anyone but myself?’ A little harsh, don’t you think?”

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