Page 56 of Accidental Doctor Daddy

I glanced at the clock. Two hours left. Screw it. I was done. I never left mid-shift, but today? Today I couldn’t breathe.

I grabbed my coat, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and stormed out. No guilt. No second-guessing. Just raw fury. Staff stared but kept their mouths shut, probably sensing I’d snap.

In the Uber, traffic crawled, and my mind replayed it all—the blood, the panic, Seth’s smug face. We’d been forced to co-lead tonight, a pairing nobody wanted. Maybe admin had set us up to see who was best under pressure. That seemed like the sort of mindfuck they’d use to dig into who was the better man for the job.

It wasn’t Seth Bowan.

That man is going to cost someone their life someday.And I’ll make sure the board knows it. I’ll testify, if it comes down to it.

But even that vow felt hollow, overshadowed by the need gnawing at my gut. The hospital mattered less and less with every passing block. I pictured Ella’s apartment, the small living room filled with baby gear, the twins’ bassinets in their pastel bedroom. I needed to see them—needed it like I needed air.

I didn’t call or text. Couldn’t risk hearing “not now” or “I’m too tired.” Logic told me to wait. Emotion dragged me there anyway.

Traffic crawled. I nearly tore the door off the cab when we stopped. My pulse was still jacked as I hit the stairs, taking them two at a time.

When I reached her door, my chest tightened. That worn welcome mat, chipped paint—it all screamed stop. But I was already knocking.

I knocked. Then I knocked again, barely waiting two seconds between.

For a beat, there was silence. Fear slithered up my spine—maybe she wasn’t home, or maybe she was ignoring me.

Then I heard the soft shuffle on the other side.

The door cracked open, revealing Ella’s face. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, eyes reflecting a tiredness I recognized in myself, but a flicker of surprise danced there too.

She took one look at me—my disheveled state, my clenched jaw—and her eyes went round. “Dom?”

I opened my mouth to explain, to apologize for barging in. But the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I just let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the anger and stress of the day flooding out in that single exhale.

And then, the door was wide open, inviting me into the warmth of her apartment beyond. A sanctuary.

Chapter 21

Ella

Ibarely processed the shock of Dom at my door before the sight of him hit me harder.

He looked wrecked. Like a skyscraper hit by a wrecking ball but somehow still standing. His dark eyes met mine, heavy with something I couldn’t place. I stepped aside without a word, my throat tight. “Everything okay?”

His shoulders sagged, just a little. “I... needed to see you. And them.”

The words pierced straight through me. I should have asked more—what happened, why now—but he looked battle-worn.

“Come on,” I murmured, softer now. “I was just about to start bedtime.”

His gaze flicked to the bassinets, where Marissa and Summer were stirring, as if they sensed a new presence. The lines of stress on Dom’s face eased minutely, and he nodded. “I’d like that.”

We worked together in a quiet, unspoken rhythm. Marissa fussed first, so I scooped her up while Dom tended to Summer.

We got them into their sleep sacks—those soft, zippered cocoons that made them look like swaddled little peanuts—and Dom’s fingertips brushed mine as we adjusted the fabric around Marissa’s tiny arms.

“She trusts you,” he murmured, watching me closely.

“She trusts us,” I corrected softly.

Dom’s smile was fleeting but warm, his dark eyes flickering between me and Summer as he lifted her gently into the crook of his arm.

We fed them side by side on the nursery floor, bottles balanced in our hands, the glow from the dim lamp casting soft shadows. Summer’s tiny fingers latched around Dom’s thumb while Marissa blinked up at me, half-asleep, her lashes fanned against flushed cheeks.

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