“And I thought I could get over it. I thought I had to. Because other women and perfume and…all the things!” She knew she probably wasn’t making sense but she couldn’t stop. “Then today…today you show up and let a patient go after you just to give her the chance to feel better. Just to help and be there for her.” She tossed her gloves in the trash like they’d offended her. “How am I supposed to fight against that? You’re…impossible not to love.”
His eyebrows lifted at that. “I’m…sorry?”
“You should be, goddammit.”
“Doc,” he said, voice gentle.
She crossed her arms, frustrated tears threatening. “Don’t doc me.”
He reached out, caught the pocket of her white coat with his finger, and pulled her closer. “Doc.”
The repeated endearment undid her. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “What?”
He cradled her face in his palms, holding her gaze. “I’ve got news for you. You’re just as much to blame. You’re impossible not to love back.”
She sniffed. “That is empirically, verifiably untrue. Ask most people who know me.”
“They don’t know you like I know you. Not yet. When they do, you’ll have them all on your side. You’re an amazing woman.”
She let her forehead touch his, the wave of emotion almost too much to weather upright. “I don’t need you to quit you job, Lane. I’m sorry I asked you to do that. The patients deserve someone who is there for the right reasons. You are that person.”
He sighed, his fingers lacing in her hair, his eyes closing. “We are completely ridiculous.”
“What?”
“I’ve been a wreck since you walked away from me. I was going to come by tonight and talk to you.”
She lifted her head, blinking hard. “About what?”
“I applied for a counseling internship on the X-wing.”
She stilled.
“I’ve wanted that gig for a while but was too scared to take the written tests required to get the position. I knew I’d fail. But I told Donovan about my dyslexia, and he’s set up accommodations. The pay isn’t as good, but the experience will be everything I could want and it will count for my experiential hours for my degree. I’ll get to work directly with patients on all kinds of issues, shadowing the psychologists.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs. “But what about your surrogate job? I don’t want you to do this for me, Lane. I want to be with you. No conditional clauses.”
He pushed her hair away from her face. “I can’t tell you what it means for me to hear you say that, but I’m not doing this for you. I believe in what I do, and I think it’s an important role. But I realized after we broke up that I was clinging to it for the wrong reasons. It’s my comfort zone. I know I’m good at it. It was my sure thing. The unknowns are scary. I don’t know if I’m going to make it through school. I don’t know if I’m skilled enough to be a full-fledged therapist with my own caseload. I don’t want to fail. But if I keep dragging out my schooling, using this job to distract me from my ultimate goal, then I’m just being a coward.”
Her ribs were cinched so tight she could barely breathe. “Lane.”
“I love you, doc. I don’t need your money, but I sure as hell need you.”
She swallowed hard.
“So”—his green eyes held her gaze, a flicker of mischief there—“if the fancy doctor doesn’t mind being with a lowly intern, maybe we could try this again?”
Try again. Her heart seemed to lift higher in her chest and a smile crept up her face. “Does this mean you’re going to make inappropriate intern jokes that make me seem like a dirty old lady who’s taking advantage of you?”
He gave her a come-on-now look. “As if I’d pass up that opportunity. Who do you think I—”
She didn’t let him finish. She couldn’t bear it any longer. It’d been one of the longest weeks of her life and a lifetime since she’d felt this brand of happiness. Her and Lane together. No contract clauses. No sharing. No hiding. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
He groaned, his mouth opening to hers as his hands slid inside her coat and gripped her waist. He kissed her like he needed her air, like he’d been just as miserable being apart as she had. She deepened the kiss, stealing as much closeness as she could. Starved for him. But none of it seemed like enough for either of them. His hands grappled blindly and then lifted her up to straddle his lap. She put her fingers in his hair and eased him back along the exam table. Her hands roamed, careful not to touch his shoulder but not careful about anything else. Her hand fumbled with his buttons, dipped inside his shirt, mapped his abdomen.
“I feel like I’m getting a very thorough exam,” he said between kisses.
“I’m good at my job,” she said, yanking his shirttails from his pants. “Got to make sure you’re okay.”