Why did he want to save this note as one of his most cherished items until the day he died?
This wasn’t supposed to go like this. He owed the Adams family, not the other way around. Now Dr. Adams was buying him expensive gifts and offering his place for Landon to live. Then Autumn Adams wrote him a personal note that seemed heartfelt and sincere.
He was the one trying to pay back a kindness. Now, all lines were blurred. No matter how many lectures he gave himself, he was developing real feelings for Robert Adams. Big feelings. Like more than just someday hoping to find a guy like the doctor, kind of feelings. Now, he wanted the doctor. The thought had his heart racing and his internal anxiety spiking for even admitting to himself such a confusing truth.
Oh. My. God. When the fuck had that even happened?
As if Dr. Adams would ever want a guy like him.
He rolled his eyes at the idea he’d be a fit partner for someone like Robert Adams. Pain sliced across his heart, stealing his breath.
No! Landon steeled his spine. He absolutely wasn’t doing this. All of these super emotional feelings were just an infatuation bubbling up because the doctor had shown him some much-needed kindness. That was exactly what it had to be. Dr. Adams could have his pick of men. He could see him with someone with equal parts intelligence and sophistication.
“Time for your medication.” Holly startled the shit out of him as she strolled into his room.
“I don’t want it,” he said irritably. “It makes me tired.”
“Omigod, Landon, you’re always so difficult. Do I need to go get Dr. Adams? He’ll make you take this medication.”
Landon’s head jerked toward Holly who held a small cup with his pills inside and a paper cup with water. Seeing the doc right now was the very last thing he wanted to do.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t do that.” His abrupt anger had her rearing back in surprise.
“What happened? I thought you two were friends.”
“And I thought you and I were too,” he snapped back harshly, liking the anger so much better than all that confusing emotional bullshit. What was he doing fighting sleep? Anything was better than realizing he’d never be good enough for the man he’d been crushing on. Landon reached for the pills, popping them in his mouth and swallowing them dry.
“You’re not making sense.” Holly rolled her eyes and left without making him drink the water.
He was alone again inside the room, and he stared at all the walls before he dropped his head back on the bed.
Nothing changed, dick-weed. Calm your ass down. He’s going one way; you’re going another. All he’s done is set a standard. That’s it. That. Is. It.
Right. He eyed the tablet charging in the corner before he closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep.
Chapter 7
“Fuck, Doc. You look like a million bucks.” Landon stared at the doctor’s reflection in the wall of mirrors in front of him. He dropped the weight in his hand and pushed back on his bench as Dr. Adams joined him in the physical therapy workout room.
“You’re at it early,” Dr. Adams said, setting an expensive looking leather duffle bag on the bench beside him.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Which was a big fucking understatement. Robert Adams had fucked with his head in a major way, making him restless as hell until this very moment when a peace settled over his heart, calming his ass down.
“You’re heading out?” Landon could only stare at the doctor who had lost that hollow expression over the last few days. He looked vibrant and whole, ready to move forward with his life again. For some reason, realizing that helped Landon’s heart more than any of his own self-lectures over the last however many hours. This was the man he remembered from the funeral. Strong, supportive, and poised. Landon hadn’t come up with a solid game plan on how to control his attraction, but he needed to figure it out. The doc’s friendship was important to him.
Landon scanned the entire length of Dr. Adams’s body, which didn’t help tamp down all this carnal need coursing through him. He was gorgeous, dressed to the nines from head to toe, and he smelled good too. He did literally look like he was worth a million dollars. Which he absolutely was—another reason Landon should get a hold of his runaway libido. He slid his gaze down the perfect frame, tight waist, slender hips, and thick thighs. His attraction blurring lines and his feelings surging deeper as he admired the man.
“What? Do I have a stain?” Robert looked down at his chest then his slacks before comically lifting a foot. For Landon, this one moment helped break the spell he’d been under and tucked his rampant thoughts back in place. Landon was an average guy. Robert was the top one percent.