Page 94 of Love Sick

Once she fully trusts me.

I’m patient. The waiting will pay off. Soon.

Right?

I really hope I’m not kidding myself.

Heading to the hospital before dawn on the last day of November, I smile to myself. Traffic lights reflect through beads of rainwater, red and green fractured around my truck, painting the black leather in Christmas colors. The chilly walk to the back elevator that lands me in the postpartum unit barely pulls my attention from the anticipation of seeing her.

Next month, we’ll be on different services—her on L&D days at TUMC, me on GYN surgery. These patient checkouts will be a thing of the past.

I slip into our closet-sized call room, expecting she’ll be ready with coffee and a freshly printed patient list. Instead, the room is dark. The overhead multicolor Christmas lights we leave up year-round glow in the dim space, rainbows bouncing off the white walls. The list is indeed printed, sitting beneath the ASCOM on the little fridge we use as a nightstand. Grace is curled up on our twin bed, fast asleep atop the covers.

I nearly trip over one of her shoes as the magnet inside her draws me closer. The rainbow lights dye her in patches, blue across her cheek, pink over her lips, green and yellow in her hair.

Her slow, even breaths disturb the rebel strands that lay across her cheek. My hand moves without direction from me, and my pinky pushes those hairs away from her face, sliding down her temple and jaw. She stirs, and an arousing moan resonates in her throat.

“Julian?” Eyes closed, she slurs my name in a sleepy voice, like she knows me by touch alone.

“Mmm-hmm.” I drop to my knees, closer to her level.

Her eyes flutter open. Reflected rainbow lights wink at me in the darkness.

“There’s my girl. Rough night?”

That languid smile jumpstarts my pulse. My heart thuds once, then speeds my blood through my veins as I picture crawling into the bed with her.

She blinks, still smiling, then lucidity hits and her body tenses. “Oh my god. I didn’t round. Shit. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

I withdraw my hand as she sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s technically my job to round on everyone.”

She grabs her phone and scowls. “I set my alarm for 4:30 p.m. instead of a.m.” She takes the list and yawns.

“You—you wake up at 4:30 to help me round?”

She glances at me and does a double take. Colored lights smear across her skin and hair as she leans toward me, quickly sweeping back the hair that always lays over my forehead. “I just… They’re hard on you for stupid reasons, and I’m usually awake anyway, and—” she sighs and looks at her lap, her voice shrinking “—I want your days to be good, Julian.”

My breath stalls. It’s such a simple statement.

I want your days to be good.

But that isn’t what it means. At least not to me.

I want you to be happy.

I’ll sacrifice my own comfort for you.

Her light-filled eyes lift to meet mine.

I’m not coming back from this. It’s happening in real time, a pistol held to my heart, poised to change everything. Her finger’s on the trigger, and staring into her eyes, I’m unsure whether she’ll pull it or lay the weapon down and show me mercy.

I’ll let her do either one, won’t I? Tendrils of frost curl around my veins as the truth unfurls inside me. I’ll let her destroy me, and I’ll do it with a smile.

I’m hers now.

What if she never agrees to be mine?

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