“It was so hard to see her in so much pain.” His eyes held sadness. “I thought maybe if she felt like she was winning, like she was taking back control, she would snap out of it or get some control over the memory. That maybe if she could lash out, it would help. Change the outcome of that memory. If that meant a few scratches or bruises for me, so be it.”
Elle released a breath, all the starch leaving her. He’d wanted to absorb Jun’s pain, take it from her however he could, even if that meant he’d bleed over it.
Goddammit, why did this man have to be so…so impossible not to want?
She’d met so few genuinely kind people in her life that she didn’t trust it when people appeared that way. Her ex had looked like a nice guy at first, too. It was a lie. Everyone had an agenda. In the beginning, she’d assumed Lane did, too. But he’d proven her wrong time and time again. This man was a good man. He would rather get scratched and bruised if he knew it could help make his client’s life less painful. That was who he was.
His job was who he was. Which was why he’d had to walk away from her when she’d made him choose. She’d thought it was pride and not wanting to accept money from her, but now she realized that was only a small part of it.
Lane had spent the first part of his life feeling less than—the “dumb” student who couldn’t read, the poor kid among the rich, the child who was only loved conditionally, and then the hired body that was simply there for rich women’s amusement. Becoming a surrogate had freed him from all that, had given him an identity and purpose. He’d learned that he was gifted at helping people overcome things, at guiding them to a happier life. He loved his job for many of the same reasons she loved hers. And needed it. Just like she did.
If he’d asked her to stop being a doctor, to let him cover her bills, what would she have told him?
The realization made her stomach hurt. She hadn’t simply asked him to give up a job. She’d asked him to give up who he was. She’d asked for too much.
“That was a good instinct not to hold her down,” she said quietly. “That could’ve made the flashback more vivid and traumatic for her. This will sting.” She dabbed at his cheek with disinfectant, earning a soft hiss from him. “But it’s also your right to protect yourself.”
“I know. Maybe I’m a closet masochist,” he said with a smirk.
She briefly met his gaze and moved to cleaning the teeth marks on his shoulder. “Well, you did date me, so I wouldn’t rule that out.”
He was quiet for a long moment and she kept her focus on treating his wounds, afraid to look him.
“Maybe we both are,” he said finally. “I’ve certainly felt tortured since that night in the parking lot. We seem to be good at doing that to each other.” He blew out a breath. “Maybe I should’ve left you alone at that party after all.”
The admission sent a prickly pain spreading through her chest and tightening her insides. Would she take that back if she could? Go back to where she’d been? Save herself this pain?
Without that party, she would’ve never kissed him, touched him. She would’ve never stood up to her ex. She wouldn’t be speaking to her sister again. She’d be home. Safe in her predictable world. Alone. She wouldn’t know what it felt like to be loved and to lose it. Her heart wouldn’t be broken.
She wouldn’t know anything about Lane Cannon at all.
She could feel his attention on her as she spread antibiotic gel on the bite and bandaged it. Her heart was beating too quickly. Being near him was making the ten days they’d been apart hurt worse, the ache in her chest unbearable.
Say something.
The words wouldn’t come. Why was she doing this to herself? Why did she always make everything so hard? The riot of feelings was like broken shards of glass in her throat, trying to get out but drawing blood.
She closed her eyes, her hand pressing over the bandage, and forced the words past her lips. “Please don’t take that back.”
His body stilled beneath her, no movement except the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand. “The party?”
“Any of it.” She pressed on, needing to get it out. “The time I’ve spent with you has been…everything.”
“Elle.” Her name whispered out
of him on an exhale.
“I know I asked too much of you. I’m sorry,” she said, the apology freeing her from some of the tightness in her chest. “I’m sorry that I made your job sound like something disposable and that I insulted you with my offer. I’m sorry that I was so selfish.”
“Selfish?”
She opened her eyes, finding his attention fixed on her, questions there. She licked her lips, her blood thumping in her ears. “I wanted you all to myself. I didn’t think about what that meant for you or exactly what I was asking you to sacrifice. I was only thinking of what I wanted. I’d finally found someone I loved and I didn’t want to share him, even with patients. So yeah. Selfish. And self-centered. And unreasonable. And—”
“Wait.” His face went blank. “You love me?”
She groaned and pulled off her gloves. “Yes. Keep up, Cannon. I’m fucking miserably in love with you.”
He blinked.