Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“You thought of everything.”
“Boy scout,” I say and try not to think about her sleeping in my room. In my bed. The attraction I have to her is because I want to keep her safe. That’s all it is. It’s not because I want her. That would be wildly inappropriate because I’m her doctor.
Okay, maybe not technically. I looked her over once, but that doesn’t make her my patient. But it would be unethical. So is having her in your house, the voice in the back of my head conveniently reminds me. Either way, I probably feel this way about her because I know that deep down, I couldn’t save her mother, so now I’m trying to save her. It doesn’t take a psych degree to figure that out. The guilt of not being able to get to her mom in time eats at me, even though I know there’s nothing I could have done.
“Are you okay?” Kate’s voice brings me back to the present.
“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“You looked really sad all of a sudden.”
Not knowing what else to say, I look out the window at the rapidly falling snow. “We may lose power soon. Why don’t I cook us something hot to eat before then.”
Before she can answer, I hurry out of the room. I curse myself with every step because even though it was a bad idea to bring her here, I wouldn’t want her anywhere else.
CHAPTER
FIVE
KATE
What are you doing? I ask myself after putting on lip gloss. I stare at my reflection before I grab a piece of toilet paper and wipe it off. This isn’t a dinner date. It doesn’t matter that I get this weird flutter whenever Wynn is near. It’s wrong. Right?
He’s doing me a favor, and I can’t get a crush on him. Also, I still don’t know how he’s wrapped up with my father. That should be at the forefront of my mind, but I can’t fathom him being on the wrong side of this. I have to be missing something. I thought he’d mention more about knowing my father, but he hasn’t. Then again, he might be waiting for me to bring up the subject.
I want to open up to him, and honestly, it would be nice to say the words that have been trapped in my throat for so long. If I had spoken them when I was little, could I have saved my mother? She always wanted to keep everything hush-hush. In that way, I never felt super close to her. At least not in the same way I’ve seen others with their parents.
When I step out of the bedroom, the smell of garlic and tomatoes hits me. My mouth waters, and my stomach growls, reminding me it's been a while since I last ate.
"Can I help?" I ask.
Wynn turns from the stove, giving me a soft smile. He's changed into a pair of gray sweats and a plain black shirt. I like this laid-back version of Wynn. He’s fairly reserved from what I’ve learned so far, but what the hell do I know? We've only talked about a handful of things so far, most of which included the weather. That’s not exactly in-depth conversation.
"You don't have to," he says, smiling at me.
"I'd like to."
"I'm making pasta. I was thinking about having a salad too."
"Great, I can handle chopping," I say, then go to the fridge and grab some vegetables.
The snow is really coming down now, and Wynn has a fire burning. There’s more wood stacked on the hearth, and the place feels cozy.
"My knives are very sharp," he warns me before getting one.
"I bet you're good with knives," I joke as he holds out the handle for me and I take it.
"I did my clinicals in emergency medicine and stayed there for a bit before moving to a private care physician. I try to use the scalpel as little as possible, but sometimes it's unavoidable.”
"So you don't do surgery?" I don’t know how that all works. Wynn should know my father wasn’t rushing anyone to the hospital.
"Not typically. Like I said, it's only during an emergency, but there have been a few times." He shakes his head, and I can tell he's thinking about those times.
"Gosh, I bet that's hard."
"Surgery? Yeah, and it’s a lot more training."
"I meant working in an ER. I bet you carry a lot of what ifs. It has to be a taxing job emotionally when you have to make decisions so quickly.”
I can’t imagine that kind of pressure. I’ll debate about lip gloss for five minutes. Having someone’s life in my hands is not something I’d be okay with. I’d never be able to make a quick decision.
"I think we all have our own what ifs, no matter the job," he says.
"But some more than most." As soon as I say the words, he turns to face me, and his eyes lock with mine.