Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

Didn’t seem likely. It was a horrible plan, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was desperate, exhausted, alone, and in pain, and all I wanted was a safe room to hide in for the night.

I took out my phone and started searching for the closest, cheapest hotel in the city.5GavinThe next day I went through my normal routine: gym in the morning, then shower at the hospital, followed by meetings, and rounds, and patients, and more patients, and Fiona’s constant disapproving glares, and more patients. Through it all I kept thinking about Erica, about where she was and what she was doing. I had to imagine she was scared and desperate, and I wished I could find her and do something for her—but I knew I had to let her make that decision on her own.

Around midnight that night, I checked on her mother. Nothing changed, but I sat down by her bedside and took her hand on a whim. I don’t know why I did it—maybe I was exhausted from the long hours, or maybe Erica was weighing heavier on my mind than I realized, but I wasn’t the type of doctor to touch a patient like that.

“Your daughter asked if you could hear her yesterday,” I said, my voice sounding strange in the otherwise quiet room. Erica’s mother didn’t move, didn’t stir, only kept breathing in and breathing out. “I told her I wasn’t sure, but you know what? I think you can hear what we’re saying.”

I cleared my throat, not sure what I was doing.

“Your daughter’s in trouble, but I think you might know about that already. I don’t know what happened or how she got involved with those guys, but I can make some guesses.” I took a breath and shut my eyes, trying to push aside my awkwardness. I wasn’t normally such an emotional fucking guy. I’d learned to turn that part of me off, especially in the face of all the stress and death I dealt with as a doctor. I had to be able to separate myself from my patients, or else I’d drive myself insane with guilt and worry and anger—and that would make me an even worse doctor.

“I had a sister,” I said, my voice ringing in my ears. “Her name was Jamie. She fell in a love with a man named Silvo. He’s in prison now, doing a life sentence for murder.” I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Sometimes I feel like I let her down. Silvo seemed so normal at first and nobody knew what he was really like. Jamie never said anything, not a single word, and the full story only became clear—afterward.”

I opened my eyes and tilted my head back, staring up at the drop ceiling with its stained tiles and textured paint.

“I let her down, really messed up. I was supposed to be her guardian, I raised her pretty much since she was fifteen, but I was too busy working all the time, too busy doing my own thing to really see what was right in front of me. And I guess I see a little of your daughter in that—and I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

I smiled and looked down at her mother—then heard a noise behind me.

I released her hand and stood, turning around. I expected to find Fiona standing there, giving me a reproving look. It wasn’t seemly for a doctor to sit with a coma patient like that, much less hold that patient’s hand and talk to her. Instead though, Erica stood in the doorway, her head tilted, wearing a pair of black jeans and a simple gray V-neck shirt, cut low enough to show off a hint of her breasts. I narrowed my eyes and felt a spike of something—shame, maybe, or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure—as she crossed her arms and stared at me.

“Was that true?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t have heard that.”

“You eavesdropped on me. I guess we’re even now.”

I grimaced, clenching my jaw. “Yeah, that was true.”

“What happened to her? Your sister?”

“She’s dead now.” I met her gaze, holding it, and didn’t want to go into detail. She wasn’t supposed to hear that story. It wasn’t something I talked about.

She chewed on that for a second. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a few years ago. I’m dealing with it.”

“Why do you think you can help me?” Her tone wasn’t combative like I’d expected, but instead I sensed a slight hint of desperation.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not completely sure what’s going on with you, so I can’t say what I can do yet, but I want to try.”

“Because I remind you of your dead sister?”

I must’ve flinched, because she instantly looked like she regretted saying that.

“That’s right,” I said, keeping my tone soft. “I don’t like when men push women around, much less take advantage of them the way those guys were.”