by Rebecca Shea
“What’cha looking at?” I hear from behind me, startling me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She walks over and stands next to me, looking at the pictures.
“This is Rob, my brother with me when I graduated from medical school.” She points to a picture of her with her cap and gown.
“This is my family last Christmas,” she says, picking up a glass frame of her and her family in front of a large pine tree, all of them bundled up in jackets and scarves, standing in the snow. “We always cut our own Christmas tree,” she says, recalling the memory.
“You and your brother look alike,” I remark.
“Everyone says that. They think we’re twins, except he’s actually three years older than I am.”
“He’s in Germany you said, correct?”
“You were listening to me at breakfast the other day.” She bumps into me with her shoulder.
“I’ve never missed anything you’ve told me, Reagan,” I turn and look at her. Considering that it’s four o’clock in the morning, it’s no wonder she looks exhausted. “What are you doing up?” I reach out and tuck a strand of her long hair behind her ear.
“I thought you left,” she whispers. I don’t know how to respond to her, because part of me did want to leave—to flee where I don’t have to deal with these unknown feelings. Feelings that leave me scared to death. So instead of saying anything, I pull her into a hug. I love that she’s so tall. Her head fits right into the crook of my neck.
“You need to sleep,” I say quietly. “You have to be at work in a few hours. Go rest; I’ll be here when you wake up—I promise.”
She pulls away and looks at me skeptically, but nods her head and shuffles down the hallway toward her bedroom. Stopping just outside her door, she looks back over her shoulder at me, then turns around slowly, walking back to me. Without a word, she weaves her fingers through mine and walks us back to her bedroom. I don’t hesitate. In fact, I long for her touch and grip her hand tighter.
“Just lie with me,” she whispers, pressing her finger to my lips so I can’t argue or refuse. Pulling me toward the large bed, she pulls the covers back and slides in, moving to the center. I hesitate as I watch her, wondering if it will ever be possible to “just lie with” her and not touch her. Her long body stretches from the pillows to the end of the bed, and her fair skin is begging me to touch it.
Sliding in next to her, she pulls me to her. Wrapping her arm across my waist, she rests her head on my shoulder. She settles in as if she’s done it a thousand times—and it feels natural, right.
“Thank you, Landon,” she mumbles sleepily.
“For what?” I ask, confused.
“Trying. Thank you for trying.”
I could seriously get used to waking up to his soft, warm kisses against my lips every morning. “Wake up, sleepy head,” kiss, kiss, kiss. “You have to get ready for work,” kiss, kiss, kiss.
“What if I don’t want to go to work today?” I grumble against his mouth.
“C’mon, go get in the shower. I’ll make some coffee for you.” He pushes himself off the bed, and I watch his perfectly inked skin disappear from my bedroom. Gathering what little energy I have, I pull myself out from under the warm covers of my bed that smell like Landon.
“Hurry up, Doc, you’re going to be late,” I hear him say from the kitchen.
“I know, I know,” I yell back as I strip out of my clothes and toss them in my wicker hamper. Grabbing clean scrubs from my closet, I turn on the shower and let it warm up for a minute before getting in. The large glass shower door almost immediately covers in steam and I step in, closing the door behind me. My body is tired and achy, a combination of the after effects of the sangria and lack of consistent sleep last night.
I let the hot water carry away the tension as I quickly wash my body and shampoo my hair. Rinsing my body, I condition my hair quickly as I wash my face. Rinsing the final bit of conditioner from my hair and face cleaner from my face, I shut the water off and grab a towel. Drying myself swiftly, I twist the towel onto my hair and step out of the shower. I slip into my short silk robe and quickly brush my teeth. Tossing the towel from my head into the laundry hamper, I run a comb through my long hair, sorting through the tangles.
“Doc.” He peeks his head in the door. “Coffee is ready.” He steps into the room, carrying a large mug. “Extra hot with a dash of vanilla creamer.” He hands me the mug.
“You know this is going to be the only thing that keeps me alive today, right?” I blow across the top of the mug, hoping to cool it down enough to take a small sip. He stands there, watching me press the mug to my lips and crinkle my nose when the coffee is still too hot to drink.
“What?” I ask as he continues to watch me.
“You’re beautiful,” he says as he plays with a piece of my wet hair, running it between his thumb and his finger.
“I’m wet, and late—and hardly beautiful, but thank you,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.
I set the coffee down on the marble counter and pull my make-up bag out from a large drawer. Landon stays behind me, leaning up against the wall, just watching me. I quickly apply some powder to my face, mascara to my lashes, and lip-gloss to my lips; his eyes study every movement I make.
“Why are you watching me?” I laugh as he takes me in.
“I like watching you and I like you in that robe,” he says, moving toward me slowly like a cat moves toward its prey. Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he plays with the silk belt that holds my robe closed. Rubbing the soft fabric belt between his fingers, he tugs at it gently and the belt unties.
I still as my robe barely opens, showing just a hint of skin from my chest down to my thighs. Still positioned behind me, his hand settles around my neck, tugging my neck back against his shoulder. I can feel every muscle from his chest down to his calves tense as his forefinger rubs small circles around my neck. Goose bumps prick my skin as his finger trails the small line of skin down from my neck, through the hollow of my breasts, to the center of my body. Stopping at my waist, he inhales sharply and steps back from me.
“Finish getting ready for work or you won’t be making it in today.” His voice is low, and there is a hunger in his tone. I watch him from the mirror as he rakes his hand over his mouth before turning and leaving the bathroom. He grabs his t-shirt from the floor and shuts the bedroom door as he disappears down the hall.
I change into light blue scrubs and run the blow dryer through my hair, wrapping a ponytail binder around my wrist for later. Grabbing my coffee off the counter, I open the door and find Landon sitting at the kitchen island, drinking coffee and scrolling through his phone.
“Ready?” I ask as I slip into my shoes and gather my purse and phone.
“Yeah.” He slides off the stool and pulls my keys from his pocket. Holding out my hand, he walks past me and opens the door. “After you.” He smiles.
“Are you going to give me my keys?” I step through the door and he shuts it behind him, locking it.
“Nope. I’m driving.” He’s direct and to the point. I can see where many people would have a tough time dealing with his strong personality.
“It’s my car. I’ll drive.” I stand in the garage with my arms folded across my chest.
“You’re going to be late. Get your ass in the car, and drink this. I’ll be driving you to work today.” He shoves a travel mug of coffee at me. There is no point in arguing. One of the most important things I’ve learned in my thirty-one years of life is “pick your battles.” This isn’t a battle worth fighting over, plus I kind of like the thought of him driving me to work.
Shaking my head, I get in the passenger seat and sip on my coffee while Landon navigates the morning rush hour through the streets of Wilmington.
“What time should I pick you up?” he asks me with a smile on his face as he turns into the parking lot of the small office building adjacent to the hospital.
“I’ll text you, but we’re usua
lly wrapped up around six o’clock.” I open the door and step out of the car. Grabbing my coffee and purse, I can’t help but feel happy today even though I’m exhausted—mentally and physically.
“Have a good day, Doc.” He smiles at me as I shut the door and he slowly drives away.
“Who the hell was that?” I jump, startled by the voice so close to me.
“Jesus, Adam, you scared me.” I press my hand to my chest in reaction.
“Who’s in your car?” I want so badly to tell him that it’s none of his business, but I have to work with this man, and it’s best just to keep things civil.
“A guy. I mean a friend. I really need more coffee,” I say, laughing as I wave my empty travel mug in front of me, trying to change the subject.
“Why does he have your car?”
“Because he doesn’t have his car.” My voice is tinged with just a hint of annoyance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude, but I’m really tired, and need to get settled, and I need more coffee before patients start showing up. We’ll catch up later, okay?” I smile at him as I walk toward the glass door that leads into the back part of our office. I can hear Adam’s footsteps catch up behind me.
“Here, let me get the door,” he juggles keys in his hand and unlocks the door, holding it open for me. I offer him a brief smile and head down the dimly lit hallway toward my small office. Settling in, I check e-mails and voice mails and get more coffee. Office staff is arriving and reps begin showing up—a typical Thursday.
Hours pass in what seems like minutes. I can’t even remember how many patients I’ve seen when I finally sit down at the large desk to enter some notes in a patient’s chart. As I click away on my small laptop, Melissa rolls her chair over to mine.
“So are you going to tell me about that hottie that brought you flowers on Tuesday?”
Without looking up from my computer, I answer her with a simple, “No.”
“Why not? Is that your boyfriend? Because if it’s not, I want you to introduce me to him. Did you see those tattoos? I wanted to lick…”
“Melissa,” Adam calls out her name. “That’s enough.”
That is twice today that he’s scared the shit out of me. “I’m sorry, Dr. Gerard.” Melissa jumps up from her chair and quickly makes herself busy grabbing a box of pharmaceutical samples and walking toward the sample closet.
“What was that for?” I say, standing up and closing the screen on my laptop. “Melissa is my medical assistant and she was joking around with me.”
He stands with his arms resting on the tall counter, clicking away at his pen. “Because that kind of talk should be reserved for outside of the office.”
“There is no one here but us, Adam. It was harmless conversation,” I say, picking up my laptop as I head to my office. That man is hot or cold. From the day I started working here, he is either over friendly or a giant asshole. He is the only other doctor in this practice that is relatively close to my age, so naturally, in the beginning, I gravitated toward him.
There is a light knock on my door. “Come in,” I say, and the door creaks open slowly. Melissa peeks her head through the door and offers me an apologetic smile.
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Sinclair. I didn’t mean to…”
“Melissa, it’s fine, seriously. Just be careful what you say and who is around when you say it. I’ve already taken care of Dr. Gerard. But let me know if he says anything to you, okay?”
“Okay. Your four o’clock appointment is here,” she says quietly, closing the door behind her. I know she feels terrible, but how Adam handled that was inappropriate. I make a mental note to remind myself to tell him he needs to apologize to her.
Tending to my last two appointments of the day, I check on the front office staff, the lab, and all the assistants, and it looks like everything is in order and we should be out of here on time, or early tonight. I shoot a quick text to Landon and head to my office.
Just as I’m finishing up the last of my charting, my phone rings and Landon’s name flashes on my screen.
“Hey, you—are you already here?”
“Yeah, I’m right outside.”
“Perfect. I’ll be right out.”
After shutting down my laptop, I arrange the papers on my desk and grab my purse. Most of the office lights are off, telling me everyone has already gone home. I’m usually the last one to leave; today is no different. Locking the door behind me, Landon waits for me in my SUV just a few feet away. Opening the car door, I step up into the car and am greeted with his soft lips pressed to mine.
“I missed you, Doc,” he says against my lips.
“I missed you too,” I admit, and it’s true. Thoughts of him crossed my mind all day, a pleasant distraction. As I’m getting buckled in, I notice Adam sitting in his car, watching us. “Let’s go.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks me, his tone serious.
“Nothing. Adam, I mean Dr. Gerard, has just been acting weird lately. He’s over there.” I motion with my head. “In his car, watching us.”
“Where?”
“Don’t look now; it’s the black BMW. Let’s just go. I plan to talk to him tomorrow.”
“What did you say his name was?” He pulls forward and blatantly stares Adam down, not trying to hide the fact that he knows Adam is watching us.
“Dr. Adam Gerard.”
“I went to high school with that asshole. He was a few years older, but he went out of his way to make my life miserable.”
“Landon, let’s go,” I say, hoping he’ll just let this go.
“What? I want that fucker to know I’m watching him.”
“Well, he surely knows now.” I chuckle.
“Good. Let me know if he keeps bothering you.”
“I’m not sure I’d say he was bothering me. He’s just acting strangely.”
“Same thing, Reagan.”
I roll my eyes. I haven’t had anyone telling me what to do, or what to worry about since I graduated and went to college. I’m not used to it.
“So what did you do today?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Nothing exciting, just stuff.” He shrugs.
“Just stuff, huh?”
He turns and smiles at me. His upper lip curls just a little higher on one side and I melt a little every time he smiles at me like that. I feel that through his smile, he speaks the words he cannot say.
“Where are we going?” I say, noticing that we are not heading in the direction of my house.
“To my house for dinner.”
“No way. I need to go home and shower and sleep. I’m exhausted.”
“I know, Doc. Just a quick dinner and I’ll take you home. You can shower up at my place while I get dinner ready.”
“But I don’t have clothes to change into.”
“Between me and Lindsay, there are plenty of clothes you can borrow.” We pull up to a red light and he leans over to me. “Let me make you dinner, then I’ll take you home.” He presses a long kiss to my lips. “Promise.”
How can I say no to that?
“Okay,” I say against his lips, taking another kiss. The remainder of the drive to his house is quick, and our conversation is light—comfortable.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask as I get out of the car.
“Grilled chicken and vegetables.”
“Do you like to cook?”
“I guess. I always have. From the time I was eight, I made every meal for Lindsay and me.” His voice is quiet and I notice his demeanor shift slightly. Reaching out, I slide my hand into his, and pull his hand into my lap. After pulling into his driveway, he meets me at my door, opening it for me as I gather my belongings. Sliding out of the passenger seat, he pulls me into a warm hug. I rest my head on his chest and hug him back. We stand like this for minutes… almost a dance, but more an embrace. Sometimes there are no words to be said, and in this moment, I need him to know that. When he holds me back, I feel like there is nothing in the world that could make
me feel any safer. Pulling out of his arms, we walk hand in hand into the house.
“Go, get in the shower,” he whispers against my head. “I’m going to get dinner started.”
Standing in the bathroom with a large towel draped around me, I silently curse myself for not asking to borrow clothes before I got in the shower. I tiptoe over to the large chest of drawers in Landon’s room and open the top drawer. The large drawer is full of boxer briefs and socks.
I feel somewhat guilty as I open the next drawer, feeling like I’m snooping through someone’s personal belongings without permission; however, he did offer me clothes to wear on the way over here. This drawer is full of t-shirts in every color, folded perfectly and divided by color. Figures. Eyeing a navy t-shirt at the bottom of the stack, I reach in and shimmy it out from the pile. Unfolding it, a picture drops from the neatly folded shirt and flutters to the ground.
Bending down, I pick up the old picture that has long since yellowed and is torn at one of the edges. The picture is of a young blonde woman with a little boy and a little girl. There is no mistaking the children are Landon and Lindsay. I flip the back of the picture over and see that it’s dated December 1991. Running a quick calculation, that puts Landon at roughly seven years old and Lindsay at three.
The three of them are huddled close together in front of a Christmas tree, Landon holding Lindsay in his lap—with her arms wrapped around him. Even when they were young, he was fiercely protective of her, and my heart warms. I notice the lack of emotion on all of their faces. For Christmas being such a happy time of year, their expressions are void of happiness—peace. There is no mistaking that the beautiful blonde woman in the picture is their mother, as all three have identical blue eyes.
“What are you doing?” His tone is harsh and loud. The picture falls from my fingers, floating to the floor as he walks toward me. I was so absorbed in looking at the picture, studying the details, I didn’t hear him open the door.
I’m momentarily stunned as he picks up the picture and shoves it back into the drawer. “I was getting a t-shirt. You said I could borrow some clothes and that picture fell out of the drawer,” I stutter and hold up the blue t-shirt so he could see what I was doing. Feeling uncomfortable, I pull the towel that is loosely wrapped around me a little tighter, and take a step back, increasing the distance between us.