Page 19 of Possessive Doctor

“What’s the problem?” I ask her.

“Dead battery. I’ll have to wait for it to charge at home.”

“Sorry, I know you’re anxious.”

She reaches across the seat and puts her hand in mine and says, “Sometimes, I wonder if it’s even worth knowing what my life was like before this. I mean, I can’t imagine it could have been any better.”

“That’s sweet, baby girl.”

I hold her hand for the rest of the drive. It feels so natural and just so right. This is what she needs to understand. This is why letting her go is not an option.

We get home, and I plug the phone in for her.

“You look tired. Do you need to take a nap?”

Her eyelashes flutter over her heavy eyes and she answers, “I feel like an old woman. I can’t even run an errand without being exhausted.”

“Your body is focused on healing. It needs rest,” I lift her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom. As I’m about to set her on the bed, she kisses my lips.

I raise a brow at her. “What was that for, princess?”

“For being so good to me.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll come to check on you in a couple of hours.”

I sit down on the sofa and stare at the little rectangle on the charger and wonder what secrets are hiding inside there. All of her data was saved to the SIM card so it will be there when she turns it on, but she doesn’t know what’s in there. I wrestle for a long time with this moral dilemma I’ve created for myself.

If I turn it on and look through it, she’ll never know and I can prepare myself for anything that might cause problems. I could also delete things that would raise concerns about us being together. I take a long, deep breath and let it out. I’ll wait until the thing is fully charged to decide.

She’s still sleeping soundly as I press the power button on the phone. It boots up and the message indicator chimes three times. I tell myself that I’m doing this for her own good. I won’t delete anything. I just need to be prepared to support her if there’s something here that will trigger any bad memories.

She has a saved voicemail so I check it. It’s from her mother telling her to be ready to go to dinner by seven. It was the day of the accident, and she ended the message by saying, “I love you.” This one’s going to hurt but she should hear it.

I scroll through her text messages. They’re mostly from friends at school, reminders from the art club about upcoming events, nothing from a boyfriend or prospective suitor. Then, I flip open her photo gallery.

Apparently, Amy is into nature photography. There are tons of photos of trees, flowers, insects, animals, starry nights, and sunny skies. Scattered amongst the outdoor photography are random pictures of her with girlfriends at dinner, at the amusement park, and on the beach.

This invasion of her privacy has told me one thing for certain. She’s exactly who I believed she would be—innocent, thoughtful, and pure.

I turn the phone back off and place it on the charger. As I turn to walk away, I hear a ringing and realize it’s the house phone. Must be the people at work.

“Hello? Adams here,” I answer.

“Dr. Adams, I’m sorry to bother you, but you have a patient—a Mr. Robinson. He went into cardiac arrest fifteen minutes ago.”

“Alright, yes, I’m on my way. Thank you.”

I don’t want to wake Amy, so I jot down a note and leave it on the counter beside her phone. This shouldn’t take long. I just need to ensure he’s stable and alter his treatment plan.

She may still be sleeping when I get back. Maybe I’ll stop and pick up something special for dinner and a little gift to cheer her up after she hears her mother’s voicemail.

9

AMY

“Andrew? Andrew, are you here?” I call out into the silence and get no answer.

I slowly lift myself out of bed and walk to the living room, my joints and muscles still aching. I wasn’t kidding when I said I felt like an old woman.

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