Chapter 33
Collins
My practice had opened just yesterday, and already the waiting room was busy. It felt surreal, my name on the door, my decisions shaping every corner of this place.
My new receptionist, Petra, sat behind the desk like she’d been born there. Elderly, sharp-eyed, and calm in a way only decades of experience could teach, she handled my patients with quiet authority and gentle warmth.
“Doctor,” she called, peering over her glasses, “you have your first patient at ten. A teenage girl with epilepsy, referred for difficult-to-manage seizures.”
I nodded, scanning the day’s schedule. “Alright. And after that?”
“A middle-aged man with a rare, slow-growing tumour. It’s affecting his memory.”
I exhaled slowly. Real cases. Real weight. Exactly why I’d done this.
“What time is my last patient?”
“Half past one.”
“Good,” I said, closing the file. “Don’t book anyone after that. I need to check on two of my private patients admitted to the hospital.”
She smiled. “Already blocked out, Doctor.”
I glanced toward the hallway that led to my consultation rooms. Day two, and already my worlds were colliding. Private practice, hospital rounds, and somewhere in between… Anna.
After my last patient, I headed to the hospital to check on those under my care there. I moved through the wards on instinct, listening, observing, adjusting, until I reached the twenty-three-year-old I’d operated on in a last-minute attempt to save his life.
“Spine is stable,” Marlon said quietly, studying the monitor. “No cord compression. Sensation is present in all limbs. If he wakes, he should walk again.”
Relief loosened something in my chest. “Good.”
“Neurology says he may be in a coma for a while,” Marlon added.
“Keep me updated,” I replied. Then, before I could stop myself, I added, “I’m just going to check on my girl.”
He lifted a brow. “Your girl? Since when do you talk like that?”
I gave a careless half-smile. “Since apparently I’ve caught whatever this is.” I gestured vaguely at my chest. “We’ll talk later.”
As I walked toward her room, my thoughts betrayed me. Was she awake? Had she eaten? Was she in pain? Every step closer made my pulse quicken.
Then I saw her, she was on the floor.
My heart dropped straight into my stomach. “Anna,” I said, too fast, too raw, too familiar. I never used patients’ names like that. But her name lived in my head like it had always belonged there.
Her eyes widened, mirroring my own shock.
I dropped to her level. “Did you hit your head? Are you dizzy? Any pain in your neck or back?” My voice was steady, but inside I was anything but.
She shook her head. Shaken, embarrassed, but conscious. No sharp pain.
I pressed the call button. “I’m going to help you back onto the bed. Slowly. Tell me if anything hurts.”
I slid one arm behind her shoulders, the other under her knees, lifting her carefully—controlled, professional… and far too intimate. She clung to me without thinking, her face tucked into my neck. Her breath was uneven.
That alone almost broke me.
She whispered my name.
I held her a second longer, not as a doctor, not as a surgeon, but as a man who was losing a battle he never planned to fight.
“I thought you left,” she murmured.
“I’m here,” I said quietly. “You’re safe.”
As I lowered her onto the bed, she moved before I could think. Closed the space. Her lips brushed mine—soft, uncertain, real.
I froze.
For half a second, the world stopped. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t deepen it. My hands were still on her, my breath suddenly wrong in my chest. I closed my eyes for the briefest moment… then turned my head away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, flushed, mortified.
“It’s okay,” I said softly, though my heart was pounding like it wanted to jump out of my ribs. One kiss—barely even that—and everything inside me was in chaos.
“What were you trying to do that made you end up on the floor?” I asked softly.
She glanced toward the jar. “I… wanted to get that,” she said.
“Be careful, okay?” I said, finally letting go.
Then the door opened. Nurses and doctors rushed in, voices filling the room, reality crashing back into place.
I stepped back. “I’ll see you later.” I said before leaving her room.
As I stepped into the hallway, Marlon appeared from the opposite direction, his face tight with concern.
“What happened?” he asked.
“She was on the floor when I found her.”
“How?” His voice dropped, horrified.
“She tried to reach for that jar. She’s okay. Shaken, but fine.”
“Alright,” he said, already turning. “I’m going to check on her.”
He hurried off, and I kept walking, my mind still stuck in her room, in that half-second that had nearly undone me.
I barely made it around the corner before I bumped into Tim.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, slapping my hand with a grin. “How’s life treating you?”
“Good,” I said. “My practice opened yesterday. First real day on my own.”
“Congrats, man. That’s great news.”
We headed to the staff room and talked for a while, catching up on the usual. Soon, Marlon walked in. He reached out and shook Tim’s hand.
“I should get going,” Tim said, standing. “I have a patient to check on.”
“Sure,” Marlon replied with a nod. “We’ll catch up later.”
Once Tim left, I turned to Marlon. “How is she?”
“She’s fine,” he said. “No damage to her spine. Dr. Harper is checking on her, and the nurses are still keeping a close eye.” He paused, then asked, “How’s the practice going?”
“I officially opened yesterday,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“That’s big news.” He leaned closer. “Which is perfect, because I’ve got a proposal for you.”
I raised a brow. “Let’s hear it.”
He grabbed two coffees from the espresso machine and handed me one before dropping into the seat beside me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began. “How about you get a partner?”
I gave him a look. “That was fast.”
“I’ve got a ridiculous amount of money I don’t know what to do with,” he said easily, leaning back. “You know, an orthopaedic spinal surgeon would complement neuro perfectly. Plus,” he smirked, “you can’t drain your cash flow before the romance even starts. You need money to spoil her.”
I shot him a suspicious look, though I couldn’t stop the smile.
“Don’t even try to hide it,” he said. “You did this for her. She’s single. It’s only a matter of time before you two become a thing.”
I hesitated. “I think… she kissed me.”
Marlon blinked. “Hold on. You think she kissed you? Or she kissed you, and you just don’t know how to explain it? Start from the beginning.”
“After I found her on the floor,” I said. “I checked her, then picked her up. She buried her face in my neck. And before I could put her down, she leaned in—her lips brushed mine. I didn’t pull away immediately. But when I did, she apologized.”
“And you didn’t kiss her back?”
“God, I wanted to,” I said quietly. “But every bone in my body said no. It wasn’t right.”
Marlon winced. “That might’ve felt like rejection to her. And that hurts.”
I frowned. “I didn’t even think of that. The last thing I want is to hurt her.”
“Her husband’s a divorce lawyer,” Marlon said casually.
“Ex-husband,” I snapped. “And what does he have to do with this?” Just hearing about the man irritated me more than it should have.
Marlon grinned. “Tim told her that night at the bar, if a man makes money breaking marriages, he shouldn’t be surprised when karma comes knocking. A doctor might just scoop up his bride.”
I burst out laughing. “He actually said that?”
“Probably not the doctor he hoped for,” he teased. “Karma doesn’t play fair.”
“Still a lucky guess,” I said.
Of course. And I knew she caught your attention.” He leaned back. “She’s a good catch. I’m happy for you.”
I smiled, unable to deny it anymore. “About the partnership, let’s talk properly. Either at my practice or my place.”
“Friday night, your house?”
“Perfect.” I stood, finishing my coffee. “I'd better get going.”
After the day finally ended—after dinner, after a long, mindless shower meant to rinse her out of my head—I lay in bed and still couldn’t sleep.
I rolled onto my back. Then my side. Then my back again.
It was useless.
The moment replayed like a cruel loop: her lips brushing mine, soft and unsure. The way she leaned into me like I was something safe. The way her hands clutched at me without even realizing she was doing it. The way she trusted me.
That was the worst part.
I stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.
I hated myself for wanting it—for wanting her in a way that had nothing to do with medicine, duty or rules.
And I hated myself even more for not taking it.
For pulling away when every instinct had screamed to move closer.
For choosing control over truth.
For leaving her thinking she’d crossed a line, when really, she’d just stepped straight into my heart.