Page 7 of Craving Sin

She stares at me wide-eyed but doesn’t reply.

I make it to the door, using my arm to open it instead of touching the handle. “You should have someone here to protect you. Your boss can expect one of my associates to have a word with him so nothing like this happens to you again.”

She stares, nods, then says, “He’s an asshole too.”

“Then you can expect him to treat you better after tonight.” And without another word, I walk away, feeling much better than I had before I’d gone inside, not even missing something sweet.

CHAPTER TWO

Abbott

It’s a clinic day, so there are no surgeries on my schedule.

I start my morning at the hospital doing early-morning rounds and checking on patients.

“Good morning, Doctor Abbott. You’re always the first one here in the morning,” Amelia, the charge nurse, says.

I don’t tell her it’s because I don’t have much of a life outside of my career as a general surgeon. Thirty-eight years old, never married, no kids. My last boyfriend cheated on me for six months before I found out, and he acted like it had been my fault for not noticing, for not giving him the time and attention he deserved. I’m not saying I’m perfect, that I was even a very good boyfriend since I’m married to my job, but Hector wasn’t the only man I’ve seen blame the victim for their cheating. Only, the other person wasn’t someone I dated.

He was my father.

Like always, that thought sits heavy in my stomach, but I try to brush it aside. I don’t have time for that. If I just keep busy, then I can keep unwanted thoughts out of my head.

“I’m a morning person,” I finally say as an excuse to Amelia. It’s true in some ways, but in others, I’m here because I have nowhere else to be.

“Well, we sure do appreciate you around here. You’re a great doctor. The patients love you, and the staff appreciates you.”

I give her a smile—one that’s appreciative, yes, but also slightly uncomfortable with the praise because all she’s telling me is I do my job. I do what we should all be doing. It’s probably a little easier on me to show up on time, to spend more time here, and to pick up more shifts because I don’t have anyone waiting for me at home.

This is all I have.

I’m not sure how I feel about that. Some days, it’s safe. People just tend to let you down, but when I let myself admit it, I can acknowledge how lonely it is.

“Thanks, Amelia. None of us could do our jobs if it weren’t for you and the rest of the nursing staff. We’re lucky to have you all.” Nurses save our asses more times than people realize. They’re the cornerstone of patient care, and it’s important to me that I make sure the nurses I work with know that.

“Thanks, Doctor Abbott.” She beams, and I go on my way, checking patients and stopping to talk to other nurses and a phlebotomist. About two hours later, I’m heading to the office.

“One of the drug reps brought donuts,” Heather, my receptionist, says.

“Nice,” I reply. “We got a busy day today?”

“All booked up!” Heather smiles, then says, “Um…so tomorrow…my son has a play. For some reason, it’s in the afternoon and—”

“Absolutely,” I say. “We’ll figure it out here.”

“I only need to leave about an hour early. I can probably push it to forty-five minutes to help cover as long as possible.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I tell her again. “An hour is fine. It’s important to be there for your kids.”

“I didn’t have that growing up, so it’s important for me to be there for Isaac,” she says.

This is where I could connect with her—tell her that I did have it before my mom died, but not afterward, that I have never been important to my father. Though, no one is important to him other than himself and the people who can help him get where he wants to be. But even then, he only gives a fuck about them until he gets what he wants. After that, he’s done with them.

You can’t really say that about the governor of your state, though. Well, I guess I could, but not without it getting out and becoming some kind of media frenzy where the vultures swoop in looking for their next scoop.

I remember that well from when my mom died. The only time I ever saw him shed tears was in front of the cameras. At home, behind closed doors, it had been like she was forgotten.

“I’m always going to support family time,” I say. I would have loved for my father to have cared that much about me. “I’m going to go grab a donut before my first patient.”