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Attention landing on me, he grinned even wider.

The sight of it clutched me everywhere.

I had this instant, overwhelming sense of affection.

And fear.

So much damned fear I didn’t know how to process the two.

To make sense of the two of them together.

Because there was also his mother.

She was standing in the middle of the room. Like she’d barely just made it to her feet a second before I’d opened the door.

Gasping for air and backing away.

Clutching the business card with my contact information my nurse had undoubtedly just passed to her, the same way she did with every new patient I’d taken over for Dr. Browning.

Her horrified gaze bounced between me and the card and the fucking lollipops that were still in the basket, left like a tease or a prize or maybe an outright bribe, on the counter at the back of the exam room.

“Hope,” I breathed, my hand still clutching the knob, frozen in the middle of the doorway.

God. In all my hunting for crucial information in Evan’s chart, I hadn’t even taken note of his last name.

Everything came crashing down.

The things she’d said, and everything she’d implied. The fact she had nothing left to give and no time for herself because she was giving all her time to this little man who needed her most.

She swallowed hard and blinked at me as if she were begging me for something.

Problem was, I didn’t exactly know what that was, and I thought maybe she didn’t, either.

We stood there staring.

Held.

Bound.

The air between us alive. Thick and tense and aching.

Fuck. What was I supposed to do?

Finally, she broke the connection. She dropped her gaze and sank back into the chair.

Every single thing about her movements were riddled with anxiety. It was as if she was teetering between reaching out and stopping me and heaving all her hope and trust into my taking care of her son.

Because all those amazing things I’d been thinking about her?

They were suddenly right there.

Brought into the light.

Whole.

Flickering with the goodness I saw surrounding her every time I got in her space.

Her reason.

And that reason was right there, grinning this bright smile that lit the whole room.

Clearing my throat, I moved the rest of the way through the door and snapped it shut behind me. “I’m Dr. Bryant,” I said, feeling totally off-kilter.

Hope made a little choking sound, and my attention darted that way. Trying to tell her I was sorry for putting her in this uncomfortable position. That I had been caught just as much off-guard as she was.

Fuck, I had this intense urge to tell her that her son was everything that terrified me the most. What made me question and made me fight to be the best damned doctor I could possibly be.

“Dr. Bryant,” she whispered, as if she were processing that fact.

Cautiously, I went to the little wheeled stool and dropped down onto it, sucking in a breath as I used my feet to wheel closer to Evan.

I felt the frantic movement off to the side and behind me. For a flash, I cut my eyes that way.

Hope.

Hope was signing, her hands and fingers moving in this choreographed dance. The sight of it pierced me somewhere deep.

God. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

And I had no fucking clue how to process the turmoil raging inside me.

Evan smiled a wide smile at her, nothing but adoration and belief, before he was looking at me, freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. He lifted his hand, fingertips to his temple, drawing it out to the side in a wave.

“He said hello.” A hoarse explanation from Hope.

Which I got because my own throat had grown thick. I offered an awkward wave to this adorable kid.

And Evan.

He laughed.

It was a quiet sound that scuffed from the depths of him, a laugh from his belly that shook his entire body.

He reached out, all excited like, and grabbed my wrist, pulled my hand up, and showed me how to do it right.

I repeated it.

He smiled again, touched his chin, fingertips coming out toward me like he was blowing a kiss.

“Good.” I saw the word form on his lips when he did.

GOOD.

He was telling me I did a good job.

But I knew that was the furthest from the truth.

Because everything inside me was screaming that I’d already fucked this up beyond repair. Of all the people I couldn’t get involved with, Hope owned the number one spot.

Goddamned forbidden.

Because my insides were clenching and all those fears and inadequacies were rushing back.

A smile tweaked at the edge of my mouth, and I eyed him carefully as I spoke. “I bet you are way better at it than I am, though, yeah?”

He nodded enthusiastically, green eyes glinting beneath the lights.

A mossy, earthy green.

Just like his mom’s.

His hands suddenly went wild, speaking a language I was ignorant to. Somehow, it made me feel like some kind of illiterate asshole.


Tags: A.L. Jackson Fight for Me Romance