Page 29 of Challenge
Feeling like a proper jerk now, I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”It’s totally not, Indie. Stop getting so personal with him. This is just supposed to be good fun.
Camden’s Adam’s apple bobs as he wars with himself for a moment. I can’t tell if he’s working up the courage to argue with me or if he’s thinking about something else entirely. Swallowing once, he says, “When I was little, my mum had a couple of surgeries after she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. They said it would give her more time. It didn’t.”
My heart stills inside my chest at the raw and vulnerable words he’s just announced to the ceiling. “How old were you?”
His lips form a hard line. “Three.”
I inhale shakily and can’t help but ask my next question. “Did she die in surgery?”
He closes his eyes and I almost have to look away because the stiff pain on his face is overwhelming. “No. She suffered through two horrid surgeries and didn’t even get the chance to start chemo before things went from bad to worse.”
Relief blankets me right before guilt crushes me. She still died. But in my mind, it would have been worse if she had died on the operating table, especially with what he has coming tomorrow. “I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “I was young. I barely remember her.” Gruffly clearing his throat, he adds lightly, “My dad had me take a meeting with Arsenal today.”
My eyes widen at his abrupt change of subject. “Here at the hospital? What did they want?”
“To see how fast I will recover. Dr. Prichard sat in on the meeting, too.”
This floors me. He’s lying here with an injury and they still want to talk contracts with him? He must be an incredible athlete. Regardless, talking here doesn’t seem like a good idea. It’s adding an immense amount of pressure right before he goes into surgery.
“You’re being awfully quiet,” he says ominously. “I’d like to know what you think.”
His blue eyes find mine, gleaming for answers. His hand reaches out to cover my own. It feels warm and personal and so much more than a doctor/patient relationship should be. The intimacy sends shivers up my spine.
There are so many lines we’ve crossed in his short time here. I’m risking everything by sleeping with him like this. I went to school for so long, and now that I’m an actual doctor, I decide to shack up with a patient? This is insanity.
Pulling my hand free to tuck it under my head, I reply pragmatically instead of emotionally. “Well, as we said, with The Wilson Repair, it’ll be a quick recovery and you’ll be good as new in five to six weeks. Most ACL repairs take six months, which is devastating for footballers. This means you’ll be able to get right back on the field for summer training. Tell them that and you’re sure to get an offer.”
Silence stretches out between us as Cam stares at me for a long, painful moment. He’s trying to get a read on me, but I’m only giving him the business reply. Sure I’m in bed with him and it’s probably too little, too late, but in my mind, I have something to prove. I can still be his surgeon. I want him to be Penis Number One, but I need to do the surgery first. I can handle both.
Without another word, he rolls over on his side, facing away from me, and the cold shoulder feels a whole lot like being slapped in the face.
Ten o’clock turns to eleven. Eleven turns to midnight, and midnight turns to one in the morning, and I’m still staring at the window, begging sleep to take me. Cam’s soft sounds of sleep taunt me, making me feel like a boat with no water.
Lying next to him in his hospital bed when I know, without a shadow of a doubt, it could be a matter of days before I have sex with him is weird. Weirder than weird. It’s like intimate or something. It feels gentlemanly that he’s not trying to have sex with me anymore, which is all wrong because he’s not supposed to be a gentleman. He’s supposed to be Penis Number One. I’m supposed to be his surgeon.
What a mess.
Unable to lie here alone with my thoughts any longer, I grab my mobile from under the pillow and pull up Belle’s name.
Me: Hey, can you talk to me for a minute?
I wait for a moment, knowing Belle’s ring will wake her. Being a doctor trains your brain to be a light sleeper.
Belle: Sure. Let me go into the bathroom so I don’t wake Stanley, who’s probably approaching a wet dream about you right now.
I roll my eyes and slide off the bed, glancing down at Cam for a moment. He’s clearly in his REM sleep cycle. Since I know he’s a deep sleeper, I creep into the loo, leaving the lights off so there’s absolutely no chance of waking him.
I slide down the shower wall just as my mobile lights up with Belle’s call.
“Hey,” I croak as I tuck my feet under my legs on the shower floor.
“Hey, why are you whispering?” she asks. “Aren’t you at home right now?”
I purse my lips. “Promise not to get mad and promise not to judge. And promise not to do that thing where you sound as if you want to pet me on the head.”
“Indie.”
