Page 86 of Alphas Like Us
I’m about to stopmine—
“Don’t,” he says. “You wanted to workout. Youshould.”
I can do a lot of things, but I can’t sprint in front of my boyfriend while he’s dying to run. It’s not even my workout of choice. It’s one of his, and if I stay on this track, it’s just being callous towards someone who’s extremelykind.
I turn off my machine. “I’m doing abs on themats.”
Maximoff adjusts his sling. “Yousure?”
I hang on my handlebar and careen towards him. “I’m always sure.” Shit, that’s not entirely true. There is something I’m unsure about…but before I retract my statement, Maximoff gestures tome.
“You know,” he says, “watching you run wouldn’t upset me. It’d probably just make mehornier.”
My smile reaches cheek-to-cheek.
He blinks into a glare. “I take it back. You didn’t hearthat.”
“I heard that,” I say matter-of-factly, leaning over my handlebar towards his treadmill. “Watching me run does it for you. So does when I walk, talk, smile,breathe—”
“Thank you for listing my turn-offs.”
“Anytime.” I remember what I needed to talk about again, and my smile vanishesfaster.
Maximoff notices, and questions flash in his eyes. “I’d been meaning to ask—at the appointment earlier, you didn’t like my doctor, didyou?”
Now I really can’t stop staring at him, a surprised breath in my throat. He hit the topic almost dead center, and it’d take someone who truly understands me to put these small piecestogether.
My affection for Maximoff overflows me, swelling up inside my chest. This is the overwhelming effect of spending almost every minute with each other. To the point where being with him has felt like years stacked on top of years. And my only fear is itending.
I comb a hand through my white hair. “No, I didn’t like that doctor.” I step off my treadmill. “Didyou?”
Maximoff follows me to the gym mats near the rock wall. “He seemed fine to me. He was polite, professional, and it’s not like he’s my primary care physician.” Because he still doesn’t haveone.
“He was professional,” I agree, watching Maximoff lower to the mat, his back up against the multi-colored anchors and bolts. I add, “My dislike has more to do with me thanhim.”
His brows furrow. “What do youmean?”
Taking a seat in front of my boyfriend, I hang my arm on my bent knee. “I was jealous.” It’s not a small statement. It’s the start of something much larger and moreconsequential.
His strong-willed eyes never drift off mine. Maximoff exudes quiet compassion that feels louder than thunder. “Is your jealousy from wanting to be my doctor?” he asks. “Or because you aren’t practicing medicine atall?”
I tilt my head back-and-forth. “Both.” I nod, certain.Both.“It wasn’t just this morning at the doctor’s office. It was when you were rushed into Philly General on a stretcher.” I pause. Remembering that night, and I explain how when I finally made the choice to leave medicine four years ago, I had noreservations.
There was no longing toreturn.
Only a peace to let go and never lookback.
“I always thought I’d go through those hospital doors and feel nostalgic. Not bitter or envious,” I tell him while he listens carefully. “I was pushed aside trying to help you in the ER, and I chalked up my emotion to being protective of you and being frustrated that I couldn’t do more.” I pauseagain.
Maximoff takes my hand into his, hard calluses on his palm against similar ones on mine. “It wasn’t that then?” heasks.
“Itwasthat, but it was definitely something else, too.” I’m conflicted. I tell him that I am, and I explain how that same night I ran into a doctor who’d been in my first-year residency. Tristan MacNair. We talked for a few minutes in the hallway, and then he waspaged.
My first thought should’ve been,I’m glad that’s not my call.But all I could think and feel was,I wish that were me.I watched him sprint away to aid a patient. Instinct told me,follow, gohelp.
And my hunger for medicine just pummeledme.
It’s been eating at me on-and-off since, and then seeing the doctor this morning, that hunger returned. I stop rehashing my story and feelings here, a pit in mystomach.
