Page 69 of Bad Medicine
But in reality, the semester ended, he graduated, and I never saw him again.
Until the night I did.
St. Patrick’s Day in Las Vegas was a very interesting occasion. No matter your actual heritage, it seems that people all suddenly had an Irish ancestor somewhere in their lineage, resulting in everyone picking out green clothes, covering themselves in green plastic jewelry and consuming gallons of green beer.
It was after one green beer too many myself that I spotted him, standing across the bar, talking closely with the same guy I’d seen him around campus with back when he was still a student. Ivan, I thought he’d been named.
Standing there, surrounded by my friends and classmates, it was hard to believe it had been three whole years since I had laid eyes on him. He was still beautiful in that cold, untouchable way, but he seemed to have hardened as well, like his edges had sharpened over time instead of rounding out the way the years seemed to do to everyone else.
I stared at him, my beer-soaked brain picking through every bit of gossip I had ever collected about him, and wondered if perhaps he’d ever thought about me in the last three years.
Laughing at my own ridiculousness, I drained the last of my beer and shook my head.
Men like him did not think about women like me.
Men with pretty faces and expensive watches and eyes like a lake in winter had much better things to do with their time than to trouble themselves with the likes of me.
So it was a surprise when, two beers later, I turned around and found myself staring right into those frosty depths, a ghost of a smile curving the sharp blade of Greg’s mouth as he looked me up and down in what I could only describe as appreciation.
“Mia, right? From biochem?”
I gaped at him, my mouth opening in shock, as I nodded dumbly.
“Well, Mia,” he purred, reaching out and running his long fingers up my arm, making me shiver. “You might not remember me, but I sure remember you.”
“Hi, Greg,” I whispered, flattered. For a second, I thought I could hear a little voice shouting in the back of my mind, almost like a warning, but I dismissed it, finding myself wanting, for just one night, to be the one he looked at. “Of course, I remember you.”
Later, I’d find myself wishing I could forget.
Chapter thirty-one
Mia
Itoldhimeverything.Every ugly, painful moment of the last six and a half years.
At first, it came out haltingly, the words feeling like they were trapped inside my chest, and I had to fight for every mumbled syllable.
But as he sat there, his face free of judgment and his eyes intense, I found that the story just poured out of me, like a dam had burst inside me, and in the end, there was nothing I could do to stop it. Nothing that I could do to keep it back.
I showed Rocco my every bloody wound and jagged scar, and then I sat back, my chest heaving and my pulse racing, and waited to see what he would do with them.
For a moment, he was silent, his expression completely unreadable, and I began to wonder if this was going to be it.
After all, my family had walked out on me when I informed them I was taking a break from school to have my baby. Why would this man—a man with nothing invested in me or my son at all—be any different?
But when he finally spoke, his words surprised me.
“Does he know about Jasper?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head vigorously. “Today was the first time I had seen him since that night. He had no reason to suspect a thing. And I’m keeping it that way.”
“What about Jasper?” Rocco asked, and my heart melted a bit at the concern in his words. “What have you told him about his father?”
“Honestly, not a whole lot.” I could feel my cheeks reddening, my shame at how I’d handled the situation creeping in, the feeling so overwhelming I thought I might cry. “So far, he hasn’t asked, so I haven’t volunteered much at all.” Blowing out a breath, I ran a hand through my hair, trying to expel some of the nervous energy buzzing around my body. “I kept telling myself that I’d be ready. That when he finally asked, I’d tell him a cleaned-up version of the truth, that his father had left the country before I had even realized I was pregnant, and that I’d been unable to find him.” Closing my eyes, I hung my head. “I figured Jasper wouldn’t have to know that I’d never looked.”
“Baby,” he said, and my heart fluttered at the new endearment. So far, he’d only ever called me Doc, or my actual name. The foolish schoolgirl inside me preened at the sweetness of the word. “You did the right thing. That guy...” Rocco shook his head, a look of anger flashing over his face that I’d never seen before. “That guy is the worst of the worst.”
My face must have shown my terror, because in the next instant, Rocco was reaching for me, his hands cupping my cheeks as he drew me close. I could feel the heat of him seeping into my chilled skin, his calloused palms holding me gently, cradling me like I was something precious, and just that action alone made me feel like I could cry.
