Page 38 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

“I’ve seen you try, and you’re pathetic at best.”

“What makes you say that?” I challenge. “Because I’m not dry-humping them on the dance floor?”

“Or literally fucking them in the bathroom stalls?” Jameson points his bottle at Emmett.

Emmett shrugs, completely unbothered, that cocky grin still plastered on his face. “At least I don’t have blue balls.”

“I’ll give you that,” I agree, and Jameson nods.

We sit there talking shit, eating cold seafood until every last fry and piece of fish is gone. Jameson catches a fish, a decent-sized one, and I catch seaweed tangled in my line, which makes them both howl with laughter.

But tomorrow is a new day. And here, there are no worries about my future or anyone waiting for me to make a mistake.

The next morning, I’m up before the other guys, my internal alarm clock dragging me out of sleep before dawn breaks. I’m ready to spend another full day at the pier and maybe catch something this time.

But first, coffee. One thing I need every morning is a good coffee. So, I lace up my running shoes and head out to the local coffee shop. I enjoy the different scenery compared to home; my feet hitting the dirt path here instead of a concrete sidewalk. There’s something about the lack of houses, people, and noise that washes away the stress of the past few weeks.

When I get back to the cabin, they haven’t woken yet, which surprises me. We’re all usually awake early. The place is silent except for Emmett’s snoring coming from one of the bedrooms. I put the food and coffee on the small kitchen table and take the opportunity to shower.

Afterwards, I dress in cargo pants and a hoodie; my hair still damp as I grab my coffee and a croissant and head back outside.

With a satisfied exhale, I settle into my chair. The steam rises from my coffee as I take a bite of my buttery croissant, staring out at nothing. What I like about this cabin spot compared to the others is that people don’t come here. The common one is Swan Lake because the shops and amenities are closer. That means crowds, noise, the exact things we’re trying to escape.

Jameson emerges first, the cabin door squeaking on its hinges. His hair is sticking up in about five different directions.

“Morning. Coffee and food’s on the table inside,” I say, turning around briefly before bringing my eyes back to the water.

“Thanks, man.” His voice is still rough with sleep. “You been up a while?”

I glance at my watch; one my parents brought me for graduation. “An hour or so.”

“Coffee might be cold by now. You want me to heat it up?” I offer, looking back at him.

“Nah, all good.” He waves me off, disappearing back inside.

A few minutes later, there’s rustling, then shoes crunching across the wooden planks. The sound drags my gaze to the side.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” I say, taking in Emmett’s disheveled appearance.

“Morning, dickhead,” he replies, before taking a massive bite of an apple turnover and slumping into his chair.

We sit in comfortable silence for a while as we each finish our food and drinks, and then set about preparing the bait and casting our rods.

Sitting here, we lose track of time. The sun blazes, warming my face. I’m about to go inside and get a hat when my phone rings. The sound is jarring in the quiet, like an alarm going off. I should’ve put it on silent, but I must have forgotten. I fish it out of my pocket and see Mr Peltz’s name on the screen. My lips thin as annoyance itches beneath my skin. He knows it’s my time off, and he’s calling anyway, which means it’s an emergency or he’s testing me. Seeing if I’ll drop everything the moment he demands it.

But I can’t ignore it. Not him. Not when I’m already on probation because of that family’s entitlement, not when Peltz is looking for any excuse to make my life harder.

“Hello?” I answer, already feeling my shoulders tensing back up.

“Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I need you to come in.” His voice is clipped, in a professional, no-nonsense way.

I rub my hand against my forehead, feeling my pulse start to pound in my temples. “Can’t you ask another doctor?”

“No.” The word is final.

“What’s happened?”

Maybe I can tell him what to do from here. Walk him through it over the phone.