Not Catching Love (Accidental Love #5)

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Derek

Maybe I shouldn’t be this nervous. It doesn’t make sense.

A lot has changed since I last saw Xander, and I don’t even know if he volunteers here anymore. Knowing him, probably not. I’m nervous over nothing. Being ridiculous.

It’s been six months, and it wasn’t until yesterday, when the jet lag started to wear off, that I let myself think of him, and as soon as I did that, it’s like no time passed at all.

Ghana was … an experience. Amazing and humbling, and for the first time in years, I switched everything off and focused on other people.

Xander was a distant memory.

I should have known that wouldn’t last.

My guilt at the way I left things has come back strong, and I’m dreading seeing him again. I’m dreading not seeing him again but for so many other reasons. I know his visits to the pharmacy have lessened, but I have no clue if that’s because he’s doing better or not, and it kills me to think that I might have made everything so much worse. If I hadn’t gotten on that plane when I did, I wouldn’t have been able to stay strong.

Before I left, I made sure to brief the other two nurses at the pharmacy on how to handle his attacks. Every second of running them through it felt like a betrayal, and I know that once I go back to work, if I’m on shift, I’ll need to be the one to see him.

My only consolation is that at least his visits aren’t as frequent anymore. Constantine’s been keeping me updated because even out of the country, I had to make sure he was okay.

Apparently, Xander means more to me than I thought.

“Derek!” Mary’s face splits into an enormous grin as I approach reception. “I thought your name was an error when I saw it on my list.”

As much as I loved Ghana and the people there, being back feels right.

“Nope, I landed two days ago and couldn’t wait to get here.”

“You’d think spending four months volunteering overseas would give you a breather from volunteering for a while.”

I shrug and take the badge she hands to me. “I missed everyone.” Which isn’t a lie, but I also hate how much “everyone” mostly means Xander.

“Well, I know Carla will be happy you’re back. Another volunteer, Xander, stepped in to cover for you, but I think she ended up teaching him.”

My head snaps toward her so fast I swear I almost break my neck. “Xander?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

I’m right on the cusp of asking her if he’s here, if he’s been volunteering the whole time, how he’s been … but I swallow it all down. “Vaguely. ”

She fills me in on how some of the residents are doing, but my brain has already checked out of the conversation. Normally I’m not this rude, but I’m desperate to head up the hall and poke my head into the art room.

“Thanks, I’m going to set up,” I say the second there’s a large enough gap in her updates.

“Of course. I’ll see you later.”

I walk too fast as I head up the hall. My guts are in fucking knots as I approach the door, and when I glance around the frame, it’s like I take a punch right to my middle. He’s here, only feet away, crouched beside Bethany as they laugh over something.

Xander.

Laughing.

It looks real, too, and not some snide snicker over a joke that only he’s in on.

I want to go over there and ask what’s made him so happy, but the anxious balloon inside me snaps, and I step back out of sight. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and something tells me that going in there will ruin all that.

The reality sets in like a slow trickle that Xander … he’s better off without me.

All this time, I’ve been missing him and hating how I left, and he moved on. I’m selfishly torn between being thrilled for him and hurt that he didn’t miss me. Not like I missed him. I guess what I’d been feeling build between us was only on my end after all.

At least I can take comfort in the proof that I made the right choice. Even if it fucking sucks to lose him.

And sure, one laugh isn’t enough to base a whole fucking opinion of a person on, but even his panic attacks are getting better. None of that can be a coincidence.

So I do the last thing I want to do .

Instead of stopping in to say hello, I duck my head and keep walking.

I’m about to turn the corner when?—

“ Derek ?”

I should have given him more credit. Preparing myself for his anger, his disgust, or his total lack of care that I’m back, I turn around.

“Fuck …” slips from his lips.

Then he’s running.

I get my arms open in time to catch him.

Xander hits me with a soft ooof , arms latching around my neck and body pressed tightly to mine. I hold him back, knowing I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. It’s Xander . Here. After months of being scared to face him again. He smells like paint and feels exactly how I always imagined he’d feel against me.

I don’t deserve this.

But I need it.

I soak every second in until he pulls away before I’m ready.

“Shit. Sorry, I … You’re back.”

I nod, wanting to tell him I missed him and I’m sorry, but then he looks up, and my whole train of thought is derailed.

“Your eyes are gray,” slips out before I can think it through.

Xander immediately drops his gaze, but I tilt his face back up to mine like I’ve done countless times before. Our eyes lock, and while the purple was pretty, this is real .

I want to tell him that his eyes are perfect. That I can’t look away. But I lock up those thoughts and manage a cowardly half smile instead. “That was a welcome back I wasn’t expecting. And don’t think I deserved.”

His answering laugh is soft and fast as he breaks contact. “You caught me by surprise, I guess.”

“I can tell.” What I really want to say is that I hope I can do that more often, but I’m not going to push my luck here. I know how much I hurt him to leave like that, but I’m hopeful it might have gotten him to wake up about some things. Needing people the way he does isn’t good for him.

“So …” He focuses somewhere mid-chest. “Are you back for good?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. I think I’ll volunteer again because I really loved it, but maybe not for so long next time.”

“Why so long this time, then?”

It’s a brave question since I’m sure he already knows the answer. So I’ll be brave right back. “Needed some space from you.”

A familiar resignation crosses his face. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Not like that,” I whisper.

“Then like what?”

“I know you didn’t want to hear me the last time we spoke, and I don’t blame you. That … that wasn’t my best moment.” I’m still so embarrassed that I lost my cool and exploded like that. “I couldn’t have been more unprofessional if I tried. So I’m really sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for it, but getting mad at you over something you can’t control … urggg, I hate myself.”

“Yeah, stop that. I hate myself enough for the both of us.” He flicks me a look. “At least that’s what my shrink says.”

I try not to let the way I get excited over that show. “You’re seeing someone?”

“Apparently, if I didn’t want to be a manipulative little shit anymore, I had to.” He picks at some of the paint on his thumb. “I need to say sorry too, I guess.”

“Hey …” I nudge his arm gently. “That was almost an apology.”

“See? Therapy changes you. Maybe I don’t want to be a good person, Derek.”

“Suits you though. ”

We smile at each other, but it takes me a moment to notice.

“Mary told me you’ve been running my class?”

“Your class has been running me. Unlike you, I’m appreciative of all the unsolicited butt taps. Almost feels like I’m in my jock era.”

“As a former jock, those taps aren’t anywhere near as erotic as people make them out to be.”

He presses his hands to his ears. “All I heard was that the jock rooms are an erotic fuck fest, and you had the time of your life in college.”

I humor him. “Yep, that’s exactly what I said.”

His grin slowly slides from his face. “Is it okay if I still come to your class? Only, I sort of owe Carla five bucks for stepping on her toes last week. I’m still not very good.”

And this is where I should draw some lines.

It’s been six months. As a past, long-term patient, it’s against all kinds of ethics to even consider pursuing a friendship with him, let alone anything else. It’s the main reason I ran away in the first place.

This whole thing with Xander was supposed to be that my feelings came about because of our proximity. The time apart was supposed to drive in how wrong it was and how many lines I crossed.

It didn’t work though.

The distance killed me.

During a weak moment, I may have looked up the rules surrounding dating former patients, and they … weren’t good. Well, no. They’re good. I agree with them. I only wish that I’d met Xander literally any other way.

Six months wasn’t long enough. I should have gone for the full two years that’s recommended as the minimum time distance between treating someone and seeing them outside of work. Not that waiting two years is some magical guarantee of it being okay anyway. Maybe the distance would have been good for me though. Maybe then I wouldn’t want him more now than before I left. Maybe he’d have found a partner, and none of it would be an option anyway.

But I didn’t.

And it is.

He’s biting the corner of his lip, waiting for me to reply, and I can’t say what I’m supposed to. I deserve to lose my fucking license for this.

“I … well, if you want, maybe after this, we could catch up?”

His entire face brightens. “Yeah?”

“Want to grab a coffee?” There’s nothing wrong with coffee. Somewhere public. Purely platonic. Everyone likes coffee.

There is a guardedness in his eyes as he studies me. “I’d like that.”

“You better get back to your class.”

He keeps watching me, walking backward, and it’s not until he disappears inside the room that I turn and thump my head against the wall.

I need to leave again.

Because I can see exactly where this is heading.