Page 29 of Obeying

Now they look at me and see the woman whose ex dragged her across the ward. That's what I am now. Not my capability or my intelligence. Just the girl with the crazy boyfriend and the sad story everyone whispers about at the nurses' station.

I hate it. I hate it so much my eyes are burning. The tears are threatening to spill, and my arm is throbbing under my jacket. I can't do this here. Not in the hallway. Not where anyone can see.

I slip into a supply closet, grab an ice pack from the small freezer unit, take my jacket off, and press the ice against the bruises. The cold stings for a second, and then it helps. I sit on the floor between the shelving units with my back against the wall, and I just breathe.

Five minutes. That's all I need. Five minutes where nobody's watching, where I don't have to smile or pretend I'm okay or feel the weight of everyone knowing.

The door opens.

Logan steps in. He sees me on the floor.

I stand up and try to smile. "I'm fine. Just needed a minute."

The words crack halfway through, so I try again. "Really, I'm⁠—"

They break worse the second time, and then I can't hold it anymore. Everything I've been carrying since I walked into this hospital, since I left Miguel, since my father died—all of it buckles at once. This wall I built to keep myself upright just gives way, and there's nothing behind it.

Logan steps closer, and I back into the shelves. Instinct. But his hand catches my lower back before I hit them, and the second he touches me, I fall against him like I can't hold myself up anymore.

He holds me in place with the arm around my back, and I cry against his chest. I cry like I haven't cried in front of anyone in years, maybe ever, because I learned a long time ago that crying in front of a man was just giving him something to use against you later.

But this doesn't feel like that. This feels like being held.

His mouth brushes my hair and his breath is warm when he speaks.

"You've been so strong. I'm here now."

I cry harder. My hands curl into fists against his white coat. A part of me just wants to stay here. Right here in the warmth of his arms, where I feel safe. And I stay until the worst of it passes. Until my breathing slows, my hands stop shaking, and I can stand without leaning on him. He doesn't let go until I do first.

I step back and wipe my face with the back of my hand. Logan's gaze drops to my bruises, fully visible without my jacket. His eyes widen, then darken, and the muscles in his jaw tighten.

He's quiet for a long moment. Then he looks up, and his anger gives way to concern—the same look from that day in the elevator. "Kristen, what happened between you and him?"

I look at the bruises. I look at this man who stepped between me and Miguel without hesitating, who held me while I fell apart in a supply closet, who hasn't once asked me for anything in return.

I don't want to keep this a secret anymore.

"I'll tell you everything. But not here."

10

KRISTEN

Logan closes his office door and doesn't rush me. He sits in the chair across from mine and faces me at the same level. He doesn't say anything.

I don't know where to start. I've been carrying this story for so long that the pieces don't sit in order anymore. They're just fragments. Moments. Things I've replayed so many times they've worn smooth in some places and become sharp in others.

So I start where I left off.

"I already told you how we met. At the charity program after my dad passed." I look at my hands. "At first, I didn't really understand what he saw in me. I was a mess. I'd just lost my father, I hadn't practiced medicine in years, I was basically starting from zero. But we had the same passion for things, we had a lot in common, and he was charming. Really charming. You know that kind of person who remembers what you said three conversations ago and brings it up like it mattered to them? He was attentive. He made me feel like I was the only person in the room."

I bite the inside of my cheek. "His family runs Cruz Pharmaceuticals. His father owns the company, while Miguel is the CEO. I didn't know that when we first met. He didn't lead with it. He was just this guy at a charity event who made me laugh and asked me about my dad like he was interested in the memories I wanted to share."

The clock ticks loudly and a cart wheels past the office, but Logan doesn't look away from my face. I tuck my hair behind my ear.

"A few months after we officially became a couple, I started noticing things. He'd get jealous over nothing. Could be a male colleague saying hi to me at an event, or a text from a friend he didn't recognize. I thought it was strange because he's a CEO. He's wealthy, he's good-looking. What would a man like that have to be jealous about? So I waved it off. I told myself it meant he cared."

I look at my hands, at the chipped polish on my fingernails. "When I was ready to go back to residency, no hospital would take me. The gap on my résumé was too long. No one wanted to touch four years out of clinical work. I applied everywhere and got rejected everywhere." I swallow. "Miguel made calls. His father was a major investor at St. Andrew's, so he got me in. We were only a few months into dating. I felt so grateful. Indebted, even. He'd done something for me that nobody else could, and I didn't know how to separate the gratitude from the relationship. They got tangled up together, and I couldn't find the seam."