Playing With The Doctor: A Romantic Comedy: Milestone Mischief #1

by Piper James

  I needed to know if my dad was okay.

  I backed up to the nearest chair and plopped down into it, my mind circling back to this morning. I’d moped in my bed for several hours after I woke up, my eagerness to start my day just as low as it had been for the last four mornings.

  When I finally dragged my ass out of my room, I’d heard strange noises coming from behind Dad’s closed door. I’d barged in without knocking to find him wheezing and coughing, his eyes glassy and unfocused. One touch of his forehead had me jerking my fingers back. He was too hot.

  I grabbed his phone and called emergency services, who sent an ambulance to pick us up. They tried to keep me from riding in the back of the ambulance with Dad, but quickly consented to it once I started to lose my shit.

  And I was about to lose it again, if someone didn’t come give me an update.

  “Jessa.”

  I leapt to my feet at the sound of Ivy’s voice. She stepped inside and slumped into a chair before grabbing my hand and pulling me down into the seat next to her.

  “He’s going to be fine,” she said, her words slow and succinct. “He had a little setback, and his symptoms reemerged. His fever is under control, we gave him a large dose of fast-acting antibiotics, and he’s receiving oxygen to help with his breathing.”

  “He’s going to be okay?” I asked, feeling dazed.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “But I have to tell you something.”

  “What? What is it? Just tell me, Ivy,” I begged, my panic rising once more.

  “I called—”

  “Jessa.”

  The deep voice cut her off, and she shot me an apologetic look before slipping from her chair and squeezing past the man in the doorway. My eyes soaked in the sight of him for several seconds before I pulled my gaze away, letting it drop to my lap.

  “Hi, Rafe,” I mumbled, not sure what I should’ve been feeling.

  Gratefulness that he was there for my dad? Anger that Ivy had gone against my wishes and called him? Joy at seeing him again after so many days? Resentment that he’d let those days pass without a word?

  “You stopped checking on him,” is what finally came out of my mouth in a low murmur.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that,” he said, his voice emotionless and professional, like I was some stranger whose family member needed treatment during his shift.

  “I said, you stopped checking on him,” I growled, pushing myself to my feet. “You lost interest in both of us and look what happened.”

  Shit. I didn’t mean to include myself in that statement. This was about Dad, not me.

  I was fine.

  “Jessa, I—”

  “Save it,” I said. “Just tell me he’s going to be okay, then leave me alone.”

  “He’s going to be okay,” he said, his brown eyes filled with some emotion I had no desire to decipher.

  When I didn’t say anything, he turned with a sigh and left. Just like that. Gone.

  “Wait!” I yelled, rushing out into the hallway. Some expression I couldn’t define crossed his features as he turned back, but he quickly replaced it with one of cool indifference. “Where is he? Can I see him?”

  With a single nod, he pointed down the hall behind me. “Go ahead. He’s in exam room four.”

  I spun around and hurried in the direction he’d indicated, my eyes searching for the number four. I needed to see for myself that he was okay. I could obsess over Rafe and analyze that difficult conversation later.

  I spotted the door I was looking for and rushed over, pushing it open a crack. Ivy was there, her back to me, chuckling as she checked Dad’s vitals.

  “Mr. Maddox, you’re too much,” she murmured, tapping against the screen of a tablet with a stylus pen.

  “Please, call me Greg, darlin’,” he replied, his voice sounding too weak.

  “Well, if you can flirt, I guess you’re okay,” I called out, moving forward with a forced grin.

  “Fit as a fiddle,” he wheezed, followed up by a coughing fit.

  Ivy grabbed a small cup on the bedside table and offered him a sip through the straw. He took a few swallows, and his coughing subsided. When she pulled the cup away, Dad leaned his head back against his pillow with a quiet sigh.

  Ivy tapped the screen a few more times, squeezed my shoulder, and then left, pulling the door closed behind her. Finally alone with my father, I let my eyes drift over his face while I tried not to cry.

  “How are you feeling, really?” I asked, pulling a chair up next to his bed so I could sit and hold his hand.

  “My chest hurts, and it’s hard to breathe,” he admitted. “The oxygen helps, though. And Rafe has taken good care of me.”

  “And Nurse Anderson, too?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from Rafe.

  “Pshaw,” he rasped out. “That was just a little harmless flirting with a pretty girl.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but the creaking of the door cut off my train of thought. I whipped around in a panic, only to relax when I saw Janice pushing through, her hands holding a big bouquet of flowers.

  “What’s this about a pretty girl?” she asked, arching a silver brow at Dad as she set the vase down on his bedside table.

  “It’s my nurse, Ivy,” Dad replied, fanning his face weakly as if the thought of Ivy made him hot.

  My head tilted as I watched him wait for Janice’s reaction. I could practically taste the challenge in his words, like he expected some kind of dramatic response from his longtime friend. My gaze darted to Janice, but she just made a tsking sound under her breath as she arranged the flowers more to her liking.

  When I looked back at Dad, his expression had crumbled, his face wrought with disappointment. But when Janice spoke again, he lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “And likely half your age,” she mumbled, sounding grumpy.

  It was apparent her reaction was exactly what my father had been looking for. The victory in his expression quickly settled into affection, and that’s when the pieces fell together—Dad was trying to make Janice jealous.

  And the craziest part was that it seemed to be working. Janice did not look happy.

  As I watched, a silent spectator of this strange drama unfolding before me, Janice took a deep breath and finally met Dad’s eyes. Her piqued expression quickly melted into one of concern as she reached down to wrap her fingers around one of his hands.

  I felt like some kind of interloper, an unwanted bystander for this private moment, but I was frozen in awe. My body itched to move, to give them some privacy, but my eyes refused to look away.

  I was witnessing a side of my father I’d never seen before. He’d always just been Dad, taking care of me, building his business, and watching baseball. He was my best friend, my conscience, my hero.

  But now, watching him grasp Janice’s hand as he silently begged for…something, I saw what I’d never truly seen before—he was a man.

  They were speaking again, but the words were muffled by the whooshing of blood in my ears. I knew I was broken. That my mother’s abandonment of us had skewed my views on relationships, making it impossible for me to trust anyone with my heart.

  And I’d always assumed Dad was broken, too. That her casual dismissal of us had scarred his heart like it had done mine. That, like me, he was content in being alone. That allowing himself to love again wasn’t worth the risk.

  As my blinders came off, I watched Dad’s eyes map out every inch of Janice’s face. His expression was soft, almost tender. My gaze dropped to their joined hands to see his thumb brush rhythmically across her knuckles. Her breath hitched with each caress, proving that she wasn’t unaffected.

  Before I found my wits and decided to slip out of the room, Janice straightened and pulled her hand from Dad’s grip. Clearing her throat, she mumbled something about having errands to run, promised Dad she’d check in on him later, and leaned over to give me a hug. Her strawberry scent enveloped me the way it always did, but for once, I
didn’t lose myself in it.

  I was too wrapped up in my confusion, and barely noticed as she left.

  My eyes landed on Dad, narrowing with accusation. Irrational as it may have been, I felt betrayed.

  “What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

  “What the hell was that?” I barked, instantly regretting my harsh tone. I may have been angry, but Dad was in the hospital.

  Dad sighed, his shoulders drooping as if he were accepting the inevitable. Like he’d been putting this conversation off for a while even though he knew it needed to happen.

  “I’ve been in love with Janice for fifteen years,” he admitted, his voice meek.

  My heart stuttered at the word “love,” but I strove to keep my expression neutral. Fifteen years? Was I that self-absorbed and clueless?

  “At first, I ignored it,” he continued when I didn’t respond. “I had a daughter to raise and a bar to run. There was no time for romance. But as the years passed, and you grew up, I realized that we have little time in this life, and I’d been wasting mine. So, I told her how I felt. That was eight years ago.”

  “You’ve been involved with her for eight years and never thought to tell me?” I asked, unable to keep the dismay from my voice.

  “No. Of course not, sugar pie,” he said, sighing again. “She turned me down, flat. She was just as wary as the rest of us, unwilling to risk her heart…or yours. She knew if things didn’t work out, you’d be hurt. She said you’d had enough pain in your life, and she refused to add to it in any way.” He paused for a moment, his lips turning up at the corners. “But she never said she didn’t love me.”

  My ire evaporated, replaced by an influx of sadness and guilt. Was I really that fragile, that the people who loved me felt like they needed to rearrange their lives to keep me from experiencing any more pain?

  “Don’t do that, Jessa,” Dad said. “You have nothing to feel bad about. You are not responsible for Janice’s decisions any more than I am. She loves you and feels a strong need to protect you, which only makes me love her more. Besides, chasing Janice has been the most fun I’ve ever had.”

  “But…fifteen years is a long time to endure rejection,” I murmured, a little bit in awe of his perseverance.

  “She’s worth the wait. And I’ve never felt rejected. Not really. It’s obvious the woman is madly in love with me.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” I attempted to joke, but it fell flat.

  “Exactly,” he said, grinning.

  “But I’m an adult, now. I don’t even live here anymore, so she can’t really justify using me as an excuse. Why is she still fighting her feelings?”

  “Habit, I think. We’ve been playing this game for so long, it’s hard to imagine things between us being any different. But I’m wearing her down.”

  I nodded with a tight smile, but my mind was working double-time to process everything he’d said. If Dad had been in love with Janice for fifteen years, that meant he wasn’t broken. My mother’s desertion of us had not destroyed his ability to love, nor had it stymied his desire to be in a loving, committed relationship.

  If he could work his way through the pain of loving someone who didn’t love him back, why couldn’t I get past the loss of someone I couldn’t even remember? That woman was nothing to me—a story my father had told me.

  I’d been using her defection as a shield my whole life. If I didn’t let anyone in, they wouldn’t have the opportunity to hurt me. I felt like a coward.

  “I have to go,” I said, leaping to my feet.

  “Jessa—”

  “I’m okay,” I assured him. “I just need to think. I’m going to go for a walk, but I’ll be back soon.”

  I leaned over and kissed his forehead before rushing through the door and down the hall. I needed room to breathe and clear my head.

  I needed to decide what I really wanted my life to look like.

  31

  Rafe

  I was beginning to understand why my father turned to alcohol. I would never condone it, nor would I allow myself to use mood-altering substances as a crutch. In my own personal experience, doing so only led to misery and death.

  But I could understand it. To loosen up the tension. To numb the pain. To forget—even if it was just for a little while—what caused all the tension and pain to begin with. My failure at keeping Greg healthy. My inability to keep my priorities in order. Hurting Jessa.

  I mumbled a curse as I pulled myself from bed. It was early, but dreams of Jessa had woken me, and there was no hope of me falling back asleep. But lying in bed and thinking about drinking, of all things, was getting me nowhere.

  I threw on some athletic shorts and a t-shirt before pulling on socks and tennis shoes. Maybe a run would clear my head. I needed some perspective, and being cooped up in the house, alone, was not helping.

  I performed a few quick stretches by the curb before I took off, my shoes slapping against the pavement in a rhythmic pattern that was almost hypnotic. I matched my breathing to the steady beat, and the first couple of miles flew by, bringing me into town.

  I skidded to a halt when I saw Jessa’s Jeep parked in front of the coffee shop. I paced back and forth on the sidewalk across the street, bringing my heart rate down while I tried to decide what to do.

  Should I go in and talk to her? Should I tell her how I feel? That I miss her even though I know I shouldn’t? That I wish we could start over and forget our deal to keep things light and casual?

  Or should I just keep running, both physically and emotionally?

  My body decided before I could even make up my mind. Without realizing it, I found myself standing in front of the coffee shop, my hand reaching for the door handle. As my fingers brushed the metal, movement inside caught my eye, and I froze.

  Jessa sat at a small table, a soft smile on her pink lips. A man sat across from her, smiling behind his mug as his eyes watched her with approval. I pulled my hand back as if the metal burned, watching Jessa shake her head at him with a grin.

  I felt an insane urge to rush inside, punch him in the throat, and throw Jessa over my shoulder before carrying her out of there. Hauling her to my home and staking my claim like a caveman. I’d make love to her until she screamed with release and forgot all about this dude with his gelled hair and fancy leather shoes.

  Instead, I spun around and ran. I pushed myself harder than I should have, pumping my arms and legs without mercy until I was gasping for breath and my heart was trying to burst from my chest. I had no sense of direction, no specific destination, yet somehow, I found myself collapsing on Ivy’s front lawn.

  I sprawled in the grass, panting in exhaustion, until my heart slowed to a reasonable rate. Pushing myself to my feet, I wandered up to the front door and knocked softly. It was early, and I knew Ivy liked to sleep in on her days off.

  She must’ve been having trouble sleeping, too, because within a few seconds of my knock, soft footsteps padded toward the door. The curtain in the window twitched just before the panel swung open.

  “Rafe, what are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, moving aside to let me pass. “Come to the kitchen. I just put on a pot of coffee.”

  The mention of coffee had me flinching, the image of Mr. Slick smiling behind his mug flashing through my mind, but Ivy didn’t notice. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed—she was wearing a tank top with pajama shorts, and her hair was tangled.

  “Did I wake you?” I asked as she pointed to a barstool and motioned for me to sit.

  “No,” she said, looking down at herself with a chuckle. “I’ve been awake for a while, but I just dragged myself out of bed.”

  “Same,” I said, accepting a steaming mug from her.

  She poured her own cup before sliding onto the barstool next to me. She took a careful sip, moaned with pleasure, then set it down on the bar before pinning me with a pointed look. />
  “Okay. I’m ready. Lay it on me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, stalling as I took a sip from my own cup.

  “Rafe, you just showed up on my doorstep, unannounced, at seven in the morning, looking like hell warmed over. Something is wrong, and you know I’ll get it out of you. Might as well save us both the trouble, and just tell me.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about Jessa,” I admitted quietly.

  “I know,” she said. At my questioning look, she added, “I’ve known you a long time, Rafael Walton. I’ve never seen you so hung up on someone before. You don’t have to admit it to me, but you should at least admit it to yourself—you’ve fallen for her.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen, Ivy. We were supposed to keep it simple. Uncomplicated.”

  “Matters of the heart rarely go the way you expect them to,” she said quietly, her eyes glazing over for a moment as if she were somewhere else completely. Then she shook her head, and the moment was gone. “Anyway, I approve. I think she’s perfect for you, and you should go tell her how you feel.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” she asked, a furrow forming between her eyebrows. “I know you’re scared. This is all new territory for you. If everything goes wrong, you’ll end up with nothing. But what will you have if you don’t try? Nothing, plus a head full of what ifs.”

  “No, what I meant was, I can’t do it because it’s too late. I saw her…in the coffee shop…with another guy.”

  My words came out broken and choppy as loss and regret threatened to suffocate me. At Ivy’s urging, I described the intimate setting I saw between Jessa and her coffee date. The laughter. The pleasure in his eyes. The pink in her cheeks.

  I suddenly felt like smashing something, so I carefully set my mug down and clenched my fists in my lap. There was a green-eyed monster pounding against my insides, clawing under my skin in its bid for freedom. And if I didn’t get it under control, I was surely going to do something I’d later regret.