Page 29 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

Emmett: He has a point…

Me: Really? You both suck.

Jameson: Just go straight to our spot.

Me: Fine. See you soon.

I tuck my phone away into my pocket. I’m confused by what they mean. I’m not different when I see Yolanda. Physically, I want to tell her to fuck off out of Pulse Point, but I feel like she’d dig her claws in tighter.

When you tell someone that they can’t do something, and they do the opposite? That’s my ex.

All she wanted was to be a doctor’s wife. The type who like shopping, nails, designer clothes, and fancy dinners. I wanted a humble, quiet, homebody life. She dreamed of moving to the city, but I’m a mid-town senior doctor.

I shouldn’t need to change for someone to love me. I’d never want them to change, never expect them to. That’s what went wrong with Yolanda. I kept waiting for her to be someone else… less jealous, less controlling, less obsessed with my career as a reflection of her own worth. I thought if I worked hard enough, achieved enough, proved my value, she’d relax. She’d stop trying to mold me into the version she wanted.

She never changed. And I finally accepted that it was never going to be enough. So now, I know better. I know that love shouldn’t require transformation. It should be about accepting someone exactly as they are. Flaws, ambitions, and stubborn determination to self-destruct and all.

I don’t blame her completely, because I let her do that, but I was hoping it would change into something long-term. Instead, she never made my heart pound; we were acquaintances, nothing more. A part of me thinks she would’ve been happy with the appearance of that relationship alone. But it wasn’t enough for me. So, I blocked her number, and now the only way of seeing or hearing from her is bumping into her around town. Which I don’t do often. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but it’s not another relationship.

I pack my stuff before I head to work. It’s my day off, but I have a follow-up appointment with Hannah.

Hannah. Not Miss Morgan. Not in my head anymore.

The thought bothers me more than it should.

I’d say she’s the only person making me edgy. I don’t know why I’m so bothered.

It’s probably because I’m confused by my reaction to her. But also, I’ve been thinking about her recovery. Wondering if she’s resting like I told her to. Knowing she probably isn’t. And when she walks into the office, I’ll see the evidence of that—pain in her eyes, exhaustion in how she carries herself. And I’ll have to pretend that it doesn’t affect me.

Because if it affects me, that means I care. And if I care, that means I’ve already crossed lines I said I wouldn’t cross.

An hour later, my car is packed for the trip, so I head to the hospital.

I walk into my office and turn on my computer, going through emails before setting up the treatment room. I’m only seeing her, so the notes won’t take long after she leaves. Then I can grab some takeout to take to the boys.

The last one to arrive is always the one to bring dinner on the first night. It’s almost like a punishment. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had to buy dinner. That’s how much I clear my schedule for fishing. It’s my time off, and I guard that time with everything I have. Nothing and no one gets in the way. Except today and Miss Hannah Morgan.

Slipping on my glasses, I read and answer emails while I wait for her.

Glancing at my watch, I see she’s already ten minutes late.

Where is she?

My phone buzzes with texts from the boys’ group chat.

Emmett: Where are you? We need more beer.

Jameson: Did you get held up at the hospital?

Emmett: Don’t tell me you did. It’s your day off, man.

I’m about to reply when my desk phone rings, so I toss my phone face down on the desk.

“Dr. Sterling.”

“Hi, I have Hannah Morgan here for her appointment.”

“Let her in,” I reply.