My Forbidden Doctor (Forbidden Medicine 7)

"Would you like some help inside?" The horrible thing about it was that I loved this restaurant. Whenever I was in town, I always got a hankering for this place, and I was forever grateful I didn't have any food allergies. Right in that moment, I couldn't remember the waitress' name, but I recognized her face when I glanced up. She looked concerned, kinda peeved, and I wheezed through a breath before nodding. My brain rattled against my skull, and she held my arm to help me stand as dizziness threatened to knock me over.

"There's a small step." Gingerly putting her arm around me, the waitress held my forearm firmly, and I managed a slightly deeper, shuddering breath. "Do you need to go to the hospital? Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine..." Honestly, I felt like I was going to suffocate, but the second I crossed the threshold, some of the tightness in my chest eased. Blinking hard to clear my vision, I stumbled a little over my own heels over the step the waitress had just warned me about. "Can I have some water?"

"Of course." Sitting me at a booth, the woman disappeared behind the bar, and I held my throbbing head in both my hands. I should've told my father 'no'; he had absolutely no problem being an ass about what I wanted to do or enjoyed. Why couldn't I do the same? Because he'll make a stink of it for weeks.

No wonder my mom drank herself to death. If he weren't my dad, I wouldn't want anything to do with him.

"Ugh..." Rubbing my nose between my thumbs, guilt rose in my blocked throat at that thought. My last memory of my mom blossomed between my throbbing brain and my eye sockets, and my grimace darkened. She'd made a lot of money as a financial consultant, but the stress drove her to drinking. I knew some of it had to be my dad being unfaithful, too. Truthfully, I wasn't the best teenager, either. Really, a conglomerate of issues with no one person to blame.

I'd grown up living in Buffalo, New York, constantly complaining about wanting to travel with my friends. My mom was hesitant to let me, but there were some experiences she couldn't say 'no' to. High school graduation meant going to Disney World in Orlando. I took Spanish in school and went to Mexico for a week with my class.

Lo and behold, all it took was a particularly stressful day for us both to send her wrapping her car around a building. Bitterness stained my tongue, and I managed a fairly deep breath through my nose.

'It'd be nice if you didn't come home sloshed, you know.' Those were the last words I'd ever said to my mom, my voice tinged with disappointment. It'd become so infuriating when she'd stumble in from work already tipsy, a fresh bottle of wine under her arm. A daily struggle.

But I knew it was my dad's cheating that pushed my mom over the edge. I was seventeen when he stepped out on the screwed-up notion that I was too old to be affected like a little kid would.

He'd never even apologized, my dad. Never told me he'd be a better parent now that I only had one. Never expressed any guilt for the blow out fight that led my mom to drive drunk.

"Melissa? Are you okay?"

Even right now, his concern isn't the person's I hear. Lifting my blurry gaze to Carl, I sniffled through my clogged sinuses as I waved my hand in dismissal. His dark eyes darkened at my messy face, but I was just exhausted as I lowered my head onto my arms on the table.

"Do you want some company?"

"Sure— it's not like my dad will come apologize. He's probably already left because he's a coward." Scrunching up my nose in disgust, I forced my tight muscles to sit up while Carl slid into the opposite side of the booth. "You here for dinner?"

"Yes. I'm far too lazy to cook after the encounter I had at my car."

I was kinda glad for the distraction, and the waitress returned with a pitcher of ice water. She gave me extra napkins, and brown eyes cast me one more, concerned look before she pulled her little notepad out of her apron.

"What can I get you this evening?"

I knew the menu by heart, and in this moment, I was pretty glad the waitress handling most of the patio hadn't had a minute to take my and my father's orders.

"Yeah. Um— can I get the salmon and poached egg on whole wheat, please. To-go if it's not a problem."

The waitress bopped her head in a nod, casting a quizzical glance at Carl. He seemed a little flustered as he straightened, and I twiddled my thumbs under the table as the tremors in my hands started to die down.