Medicine Man (Page 33)

“What?” he repeats my thought out loud.

I look down at the book in my hands, which has been broken in two. “Yeah. I mean, I dropped it again and well, it kind of tore in two. Right in the middle. S-so I want you to fix it.”

“Right now?”

Damn it.

This is going completely wrong. But I don’t know how to backtrack from here. Like, how do I tell him that I want him. That I’m here for him.

How does one do that?

 “I…” I lick my lips, feeling the first stirrings of unrest. “You know what, yes. It’s, uh, it’s important.”

A frown forms between his brows as he scans my face. I bet he’s trying to figure out what I really want. And he’ll do it too because apparently I can’t hide anything from him.

“From what I understand,” he begins, his arms still crossed. “You came to me because your book tore in half and you want me to fix it. Right now.”

It sounds insane; I know it. I know he thinks it too. It’s in the way he’s looking at me. His expression as always is almost blank, but his eyes are so focused, so intense and so on me, that a shiver rolls down my spine. My very sweaty spine.

Actually, I’m sweating all over. Drops of sweat move down my body like rain, and I’m both heated and chilled.

“Yes. Because that’s what you said to me. In the hallway? When we first met? You said to me that I should fix my book. So here I am. I want you to fix my book. I’m only listening to you.”

“As far as I remember, you weren’t very receptive to it when I said that.”

My first urge is to lie but I don’t want to lie. Not to him. Not after everything. “How do you know that?”

He uncrosses his arms and thrusts his hands in his pockets. “You purse the left side of your mouth when you don’t like something.”

“I-I do?”

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does he acknowledge my statement. He simply clenches his jaw slightly.

“I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that… you noticed. I –”

“I noticed because it’s my job,” he says again, like he’s informing me.

Is it me or did he really emphasize the word job?

“Or you noticed because…” I take in a deep breath and jump. “You noticed me.”

This time his clench is longer, harder. The slant of his jaw comes alive with it. “Willow, there’s a thing called patience. And I’m running out of it. Very quickly. I’m giving you one last chance to tell me exactly what you’re doing here, all right? Here goes.” His calm voice belies the force of his words. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t go.”

 There. I said it. The truth.

My heart’s pounding. In fact, my entire body is a heart. Every part of me is pulsing and pumping blood. My throat, my stomach, even my toes.

“What?”

I’m probably tattooing my heartbeats onto the spine of my broken book with the way I have it plastered to my chest. “With her.”

“With whom?”

“Josie.”

I’ve genuinely baffled him. I’ve never seen that expression on his face. Well, I’ve hardly ever seen an expression on him other than either blankness, irritation, or a sort of ingrained arrogance. His brows are creased with confusion and his eyes tell me he has no clue what I’m saying to him.

Does it mean he’s not going? Or maybe he’s going and it’s no big deal.

Oh, fucking hell.

Did I jump the gun?

“I, um,” I begin awkwardly. “Are you going out? With Josie?”

“Out, as in?”

I’m melting under his steady gaze. He’s destroying me, cell by cell, with the intense way he’s looking at me.

Oh God, can I just run away now? Will he notice if I leave in the middle of this very awkward conversation?

He might. Not to mention, he’s blocking the fucking door.

“Out, as in…” I trail off.

Actually, fuck it.

Fuck all of it.

I’m not running away. I’m tired of running, feeling like I have to hide. I have to lie. I have to keep the peace because the alternative is unthinkable. It’s not.

The truth is that I have feelings for this man in front of me. He’s my doctor, my psychiatrist. A lot older than me. But I don’t care.

I’m taking a chance.

“Out as in, on a date. Are you going on a date with Josie?”

“Who told you?”

“I overheard a couple of nurses talking.”

His expression is unreadable. He’s gone from being confused to totally closed off, completely shut, and it hits me like a sharp dart.

“And what if I’m going?”

That dart was poisonous. I can feel it. It’s spreading everywhere. My legs, my arms, my chest, my stomach. It burns. Like my veins are on fire.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Why?”

Okay, here goes. I can do this.

I can fucking do this.

I blow out a breath, and say, “Because I want you to go with me.”

The only reason I’m standing on my own two feet is because he hasn’t looked away from me. There’s power in his eyes. Maybe even in that beautiful, cold face of his.

“With you.” He makes it sound like a flat statement, and it’s not helping my confidence. Like, at all. But I’ve said it now and well, I can’t take it back.

I don’t want to.

“Yes. When I get out of here. In a little over two weeks.”

“Why? Why should I go with you?”

Taking another deep breath, I whisper, “Because I want you to. Because I want you. And because I think if you tried, you might want me, too…”

I trail off when I see a muscle jump on his cheek and he breathes deep. His shirt-encased chest rises and falls with it. I don’t know what to make of it.

Actually, I do know what to make of it. He’s angry.

This was a bad idea. A super fucking bad idea.

What was I thinking? He’s never given me any indication that he likes me. At all. He’s always been so professional and cool and what the fuck was I thinking?

I haven’t done anything like this before. I’ve never had the urge to. Not until him. Not until I heard he was going out with someone else.

Maybe I should backtrack, after all. Maybe I should –

“What about Lee?”

At his words, my thoughts come to a screeching halt. I feel a jolt. In my chest. Like something really heavy fell on me.

“What about the boyfriend you love? What was it he called you again? Right. Snow princess. He calls you that, doesn’t he? He called you that when he pulled you into a dark alley, pushed you into a wall and pressed up against you. What about him? I thought you were heartbroken. You were so heartbroken that you jumped from a roof. So, have you moved on, then?”

My vision’s filled with him, the line of his broad shoulders, the strands of his rich hair grazing the starched collar of his shirt. Somewhere in the past few seconds, Simon walked closer to me. So close that I have to crane my neck up to look at his face.

I’ve never seen him like this before. So angry. More than angry. More than furious even. He’s leaning over me, like a thundering cloud, all dark and dangerous.

“What about that love? What happened to that?”

 “H-he cheated on me.”

“Right. He kissed someone. What was her name again?”