Bad For You: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Taylor Holloway

  I tensed. This is what I wanted to know, too.

  Sharp was invisible to me, but I could almost see him shrug. “I don’t know. He may not get cleared for another deployment, honestly. His last mental evaluation indicated quite a bit of PTSD and they’re getting stricter about that, especially for physicians. That was part of why it was so easy to get him on this assignment in the first place. He needed the break. But they might not clear him again. I mean, he’s done his time and that’s really all the government expected to get out of him.”

  I winced. That didn’t feel very nice. Officers were usually viewed as investments a bit more than the average enlisted serviceman, but General Sharp wasn’t wrong. We were all just cogs in a wheel that had expiration dates stamped on us. We could only serve for as long as there was no one better than us. I was, apparently, damaged goods.

  “You can’t mean that. He’s so young!” My dad said. “After all, they’re still letting your gray-haired ass wear the uniform.”

  General Sharp laughed. “Sure, but I’m in leadership. Brandon’s an idealist and he’s expressed no interest in moving up the ranks. God knows, I’ve tried. He just wants to treat people.”

  “You think Brandon’s an idealist?” My dad asked.

  It was the same question I had. I’d never been accused of idealism before. I certainly didn’t consider myself to be idealistic. If anything, I was the opposite. A true pragmatist.

  “In his way, yeah,” General Sharp answered. “He doesn’t want to learn politics; he’s got no interest in command or administration. He’s got his vocation and it’s all he wants to do. Admirable? Yeah. Career building? Only so long as he isn’t too damn traumatized to keep doing it.”

  I swallowed. Why couldn’t General Sharp have ever been so direct with me? The easiest answer was that maybe he wasn’t allowed to be. There are a lot of rules in the military. Weird ones. For all I knew, honesty wasn’t allowed.

  “Besides,” he continued, “we can probably get more value out of him at this point by putting him in a training position. At this point his experience is best spent teaching other less experienced doctors how to do what he does. That’s another reason it was easy to sell the higher ups on his assignment here. It’s good experience for when we put him in a training hospital.”

  Oh fuck no. I didn’t want to teach. Teaching is bullshit. I wanted to do what I’d been trained to do. Irritation swam in my brain and then dove and settled into a tight knot in my stomach. They wanted to make me teach. I wanted to throw up. Just being exposed to the residents here was all the proof I needed that I was not cut out for dealing with baby doctors. They were a bunch of whining, mewling morons who couldn’t tell a mouth from an anus half the time. The other half of the time they were overconfident egomaniacs who were one injection away from manslaughter. Either way, they were entirely insufferable. The thought of having to work with them day in, day out, was putrid. Aimee liked it, but I couldn’t think of anything less well suited to my personality and interests.

  “He’s not going to like that,” my dad answered mildly. “If I know him at all, he’s not going to want a teaching position. I think he’d ultimately be very good at it, but I know it’s not his first choice.”

  Thank you! Jesus Christ.

  “Well, he can always quit and stay here,” General Sharp replied. “I’d suggest it to him if I could, but it would probably backfire. I’m sure you’d hire him.”

  “I think he’d probably prefer the teaching position,” my dad answered dryly.

  In reality, staying at St. Vincent’s had suddenly become much more appealing. And not just because of the likelihood that I couldn’t redeploy. I wanted to stay with Aimee.

  “Like I said,” General Sharp continued, “he’s able to resign his commission at any time. In all likelihood he’s too worn for another deployment, but he can apply and see if they clear him to go abroad, or he can appeal the decision to go the teaching route. Honestly he’s got a few options—”

  My other options were cut off by Aimee’s return. “I couldn’t find him,” she explained. “The staff nurse said he was down this way the last time she saw him, but she thinks he might have headed down to radiology. We should go look for him there.”

  They walked off after that, and I was left alone behind the curtain like the coward I was. When I was sure they were gone, I used the stairs on the opposite side of the floor to meet them in radiology.

  52

  Aimee

  “There he is!” Martin said, pointing at Brandon who was walking over purposefully. He was in radiology after all. As always, my heart fluttered when I saw him. He was so damn handsome. It was ridiculous.

  “I heard you were here,” Brandon said to General Sharp. Brandon sounded stressed out and he looked tense. He saluted and then the two shook hands. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I had to see for myself how you were adjusting to your temporary civilian life,” the General said.

  “I’m doing alright. Keeping busy. Seeing all sorts of weird patients,” he shrugged. “Today I pulled a pencil eraser out of a kid’s nose. It was really far up there. Impressively far.”

  “Nice,” General Sharp replied. “Sounds fascinating.”

  “Yeah. We don’t see that very often overseas.” Brandon’s voice was dry.

  “No, no, we don’t. But there are some real duds in the army. It could happen.”

  “And last week I treated eighteen people with sexually transmitted infections,” Brandon continued.

  “Well, that’s always good practice,” General Sharp replied.

  Brandon nodded and smiled thinly. “True enough.”

  “How do you like being home?” he asked.

  Brandon’s eyes swept over my face and then returned to his commanding officer. “It’s growing on me, sir.”

  “Well, don’t let it grow on you too much,” he told him. “We’re wrapping up the program for you a few weeks early. We want you back on the base at the end of the month.”

  My heart fluttered in panic. The end of the month?

  Brandon’s face was totally impassive, and I tried to keep mine straight as well. Martin looked from my face to Brandon’s and a strange expression passed over his features. I was too stressed out to think about it in the moment.

  The General was oblivious. “I’ll send you the official paperwork this afternoon,” he was explaining, “but because you applied to go back overseas, you’ll need to do some refreshment training and evaluation before you get your real orders.”

  Brandon nodded. “I understand.”

  He looked neither excited nor disappointed. His face was just… flat. A piece of me, a small and vocal piece, wanted Brandon to tell his commanding officer to go to hell. To say that he was in love with me and wouldn’t leave. To shock the hell out of Martin and everyone. To make a grand, irrational romantic gesture that would destroy his career.

  But that wasn’t Brandon. He wasn’t the type to do anything like that. Nor had we discussed him staying. I didn’t know if he really loved me. He said he did, but I didn’t know if it was enough. I didn’t know if I was enough. All I knew, in that second, was that our expiration date was right now.

  I didn’t make any grand, romantic gestures either. It wasn’t me. But part of me wanted to throw myself in Brandon’s arms and scream that I loved him and no one could take him away. But I knew that wasn’t true. I couldn’t make Brandon stay if he didn’t want to be here, and he’d never wanted to be here. This was just a weird, annoying assignment that he was given against his will. He’d never wanted to come to St. Vincent’s or to see me again. The fact that we’d ended up together was just a weird twist of fate. An accident. A temporary detour in the story of both of our lives.

  In my weakened state, I didn’t know how to interpret what I was seeing on his face, or feeling from him, or feeling in general. I was just too overwhelmed. Panic took over.

  “Excuse me,” I heard myself saying in a too-high, too-tight voice
, “I didn’t realize how much the time has gotten away from me. I need to get back to the residents.”

  I turned on my heel and walked away before I could burst into tears.

  53

  Brandon

  “So, how long have you and Aimee been sleeping together?” my dad asked me as the elevator doors closed. We’d just walked General Sharp out and my mind was reeling. So, at first, I thought I might have misheard him.

  I turned to him in disbelief and stared. “What?”

  Clearly, I must not have heard him. I must be hallucinating from the stress.

  My dad punched the button to freeze the elevator. “How long have you and Aimee been sleeping together?” he asked me. “I want to know.”

  He looked angry, and it sparked an answering bewildered anger in me.

  “I refuse to engage with you on this topic or anything to do with my love life,” I managed.

  I wasn’t going to deny it, but I wasn’t going to dignify this line of questioning either. My dad had no right to interrogate me about my relationship with Aimee. He had no right to judge me for it, either, although it was very clear from his expression that he was doing exactly that.

  “You need to leave that girl alone, Brandon.” His dark eyes, the same color as my own, were disapproving.

  My pulse was banging in my ears.

  You need to leave that girl alone, Brandon.

  He’d said that to me before. Years ago. Back when my mom was dying, and I was still in high school. Back when I was bullying Aimee and making her life miserable for no real reason other than my own insecurity and awfulness. He’d said those exact words to me when I had made her cry one afternoon and my dad saw it.

  You need to leave that girl alone, Brandon. Just let her be. She’s not doing anything to you. She’s just trying to live her life and you don’t need to make it any harder for her.

  He’d been totally right back then. But he wasn’t right now.

  “That girl?” I snapped. I tried to restart the elevator, but my dad just pressed the stop button again immediately afterwards. “Don’t call her a girl, dad. Aimee’s not a girl. She’s a woman who is more than old enough to make her own choices. Neither one of us need you in our private business.”

  “Aimee is right on the verge of taking over this entire hospital,” my dad told me. “She’s busy. She’s stressed out. She doesn’t need you distracting her.”

  “Distracting her?”

  Is that all he thought she was to me? A distraction? I was so angry I could barely see straight.

  “You’re leaving,” he snapped at me. “You never wanted to come here and you don’t want to stay here. You’re a distraction to her. A dangerous one.”

  “I’m not a drug habit,” I snapped. “You don’t know what’s between us.”

  “You’re too irresponsible to be good for her. You’re too quick to anger and too impulsive. You’re going to end up hurting her and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  He said all of this like it was fact. He thought I was going to hurt Aimee? That stung. It also made me more furious than I could even process. “I’m not going to hurt Aimee!” I yelled.

  “Yes, you are. I could see her face today when she found out you were leaving. She’s already hurt. I’m not blind, Brandon. Are you?” His voice was sharp.

  I’d seen her face, too. She had looked crushed and heartbroken and it had hurt to see it. But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t make the decision to reassign me. I hadn’t even decided what I wanted to do yet. This wasn’t fair.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I told my dad. “You don’t know what’s between me and Aimee. You’re jumping to conclusions and making assumptions that have no basis in fact. You may think you’ve figured something out, but you don’t know—”

  He cut me off. “You don’t deserve her.”

  I paused, frozen. “What?”

  My dad’s voice was irate. “You, Brandon Koels, do not deserve that woman. I know it. You know it. Deep down, she knows it—although for some reason she seems to have had a lapse in judgement. You aren’t ready to commit to her and she deserves someone who will. She needs a good man, and you aren’t one.”

  I was dumbstruck. He was so angry and sure that he was right. I couldn’t believe that this was happening, now, like this. I’d been about to ask him to hire me permanently. I was about to resign my commission. And now this. “How can you say that?” I asked him.

  His expression was condescending. “How can I not say that? I care about her and won’t let her be hurt if I can stop it.”

  I’d never wanted to punch my own father more than I did at that moment. I didn’t care that he was old. I didn’t care that he was sick. All I knew was that he was wrong and that I was fucking furious.

  How could he just jump to that conclusion without asking me what I felt for her? How could he assume I wasn’t willing to do what it took to keep her? Even now, after everything, he wasn’t giving me the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t think I deserved Aimee. What hurt the most, although I didn’t want to admit it, was that I suspected he was probably right.

  I didn’t deserve her.

  I’d never deserved her, and never would.

  But I didn’t need my own goddamn father to throw that in my face. He was supposed to care about me, too. He was supposed to want what was best for both Aimee and for me. It was clear that he was too up his own ass to do that. For all the work we’d put into our relationship lately, it clearly wasn’t enough.

  “You don’t know anything about me.” I said, pushing the elevator’s open button to let myself out. It didn’t matter what floor we were on. The doors swung open to reveal the ER. Perfect. I was so done with this conversation. I stepped out and glared daggers at him. “And, dad? You’re underestimating Aimee. She doesn’t need your help. Neither of us do. I thought we were making some progress, but clearly, you’re just as much of an asshole as I always thought. So, if you don’t mind, please kindly fuck off. Forever.”

  “You’re fired,” my dad said, getting in the last word. “Get out of this hospital and never come back.”

  54

  Aimee

  When milk goes bad, and milk goes bad pretty regularly at my house because I never have enough time to drink it, I pour it down the drain. If I let the container sit in the trash it makes the whole room stink. Now that the expiration date for me and Brandon was upon us, I needed to do the same thing with my feelings.

  Only it wasn’t that easy. I went and hid out in Melinda’s empty office to cry. I knew if I went to my office for my mid-afternoon cry that someone would find me. Either Brandon would find me, or Martin, or one of the residents that just wanted a vacation approved. Someone.

  But this way, I could be alone. Melinda even had a lock on her door. Her computer was gone, and all her papers had been boxed and moved out, but there was a chair and a desk. More than enough for a good cry. The only thing that was missing, and it was way too late before I realized it, was that there were no tissues in here. What kind of self-respecting HR person doesn’t have tissues? Didn’t she have to fire people in here? I had to use the sleeve of my white coat.

  I should have known it would come to this. Brandon would get ordered to leave eventually. He’d been ordered to come here in the first place. His career didn’t even really belong to him. He was the property of the US government.

  I knew, rationally, that he could probably stay if he wanted to, but he’d never mentioned wanting to stay. Instead, when we talked about the future together, we talked about the next day or the next hour. We never talked about anything long-term. We never planned ahead because there was no future.

  I’d tried to love him like I was going to lose him. I’d tried to love him like I was always one day away from saying goodbye. But the heart is selfish. It doesn’t know how to convince itself that now is good enough. For my heart, the only thing that would be good enough was forever. And we’d never had forever.

&nbs
p; I ought to be grateful for what I had. I got to be in love with someone who loved me back. A lot of people never get that. A lot of people never fall in love at all.

  But I didn’t feel grateful. I felt horrible.

  I tried calling Lucy. Other than Daniel, she was the only friend I really had and the only one who also knew Brandon, but she didn’t pick up. She was busy at her new job, living her dream. When the phone stopped ringing, I was actually glad because I wasn’t sure how I’d even explain myself. I had no right to be upset, not really. I was only getting what I’d asked for.

  It took a lot of sniveling and sobbing, but eventually I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. I pulled out my makeup compact and looked at my puffy face. I was a fucking doctor. I was a grown ass woman. I was not the type of pathetic little creature that was going to let a man get between me and my destiny.

  I had a goddamn hospital to run. I could only sit around and pity myself for so long. Plus, I was on the clock. I could cry on my personal time.

  I threw open the door and strode purposefully down the hallway to reveal absolute chaos. People were running around like crazy. Confused, I grabbed a nurse’s shirtsleeve.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Dr. Ford, there you are!” she said, her eyes focusing on me after a moment’s confusion. “There was a mass shooting. We’ve got two dozen gunshot wounds coming in. Kids. We’ve had to put the hospital on bypass there’s so many. All the doctors we can spare are down in trauma.”

  My blood pressure spiked, and I swallowed. Bypass meant we were turning other patients away. In its history, St. Vincent’s had never gone on bypass. Even when two tour busses hit one another and careened into the river, we didn’t go on bypass. We were equipped to handle more than two dozen very ill people arriving at once. If this was worse than that… my mind struggled to picture it.