15. Liam
15
LIAM
I climb out of the car to stand beside Emma in front of the house.
She chatters on about how excited June will be to see the pictures. I barely say a word. My thoughts are still tangled with the day’s events, and the kiss lingers on my mind like a stubborn melody.
I follow her inside. The air thrums with the house’s usual boisterous energy. I used to love it, but at this moment, I think I need some quiet solitude. Damon is in the living room, his booming laugh filling the space as June swats him playfully on the arm. Ethan sees us and launches himself at me the moment I cross the threshold, wrapping his small arms around my waist in a hug.
“Uncle Liam,” he exclaims, his voice filled with childish enthusiasm.
I pat his back, flashing a small smile as I crouch to bring us face-to-face. “Hey, buddy,” I offer my palm, and he slaps it in a high-five, then I ruffle his hair.
Damon and June stand up from the couch where they’re sorting through a pile of papers.
“Liam, good to see you,” Damon booms, clapping me on the back with a force that nearly knocks the wind out of me. “Thanks for helping out today. We really appreciate it.”
“No problem, man,” I reply, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Just doing my part as your best man.”
“Thank you so much.” June echoes her husband-to-be’s sentiment. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
It’s amazing how in sync they both seem to be as if they have a telepathic understanding between them. If only this lasted, then I could dare to hope that… I steal a glance at Emma who’s standing in the corner with Ethan, laughing as she shows him pictures. No, I shake my head. I know this doesn’t work. It never does.
I nod at June, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “No problem. Glad to help.”
“Wow! That’s so beautiful!” Ethan’s voice pulls all our attention to the duo.
“What’s beautiful, Ethan?” June mutters with a smile, heading over to the boy.
“The potential venues,” Emma smiles. “I’ll print some of them out so we can see them together.”
Emma, June, and Ethan head off to another room to print out the pictures we took today.
“Seeing those three like that gladdens my heart.” Damon mutters, his eyes following them.
“I know, man.” I clap his shoulder. I should seize the opportunity to excuse myself, wanting to escape the thickening air. “I should go, man.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ve got business.”
But just as I turn to leave, Damon calls out to Emma from inside the house. “Emma, could you come here for a second? Liam’s leaving.”
I close my eyes and clench my teeth for a split second. Damon’s just ruined my chance for a quiet exit.
Emma rushes back out, her eyes quickly scanning my face. “You’re leaving?”
I nod. “Gotta go.”
Emma grabs my hand and leads me out, Damon and June following with Ethan some distance behind us.
“Liam,” Emma’s voice drops into a whisper, “what’s wrong? Did I do something?”
I shake my head, trying to hide my unease. “It’s nothing.”
June appears beside Emma, her expression hopeful. “Can’t we convince you to stay for dinner? You’ve done a lot for us today and we’d love to have you for dinner.”
I look up at June’s worried eyes and manage a smile. “I wish I could, but I need to get to the hospital. My dad covered my shift this morning, and I need to relieve him.” I end my explanation with a quick glancing at the clock.
Emma’s face falls slightly, but she nods in understanding. “Let me drive you, then.”
I shake my head. “You should stay and talk about the venues with June. I can manage to hitch a ride.”
“Liam—”
“Come on.” I grab her arm, trying to keep my tone light as I nod at her.
“Hey!”
I turn around to Damon. He throws me a set of car keys with a chuckle. “Here, take the car I just fixed. It needs a test drive, anyway.”
I catch the keys and nod gratefully. “Thanks, Damon.”
I walk out to the car, an old but well-maintained model, and slide behind the wheel. As I turn away from the Cole driveway and head toward the hospital road, my mind churns.
It was stupid of me to have this kind of reaction, but I was even more foolish for getting jealous when Mr. Solomon mentioned Emma dating his son. This tight space between anger, frustration, and pain is a foreign feeling for me. I’ve never been jealous, because jealousy means you care, and I’ve never cared about any woman enough to feel that way.
I rake my hand through my hair in frustration. So why do I feel so uncomfortable about a high school fling that surely happened over a decade ago? It's ridiculous.
I don't care enough about Emma Cole to feel jealous. Not in that way.
The drive to the hospital is a blur. My mind replays the scene at the bagel shop on a loop, Mr. Solomon's words echoing in my head. I recall the subtle shift in her demeanor, the flicker of something like a memory in her eyes—it had all triggered something primal within me. A possessiveness I can't explain.
I don’t own her, just as much she doesn’t own me. Getting possessive and jealous defeats the purpose of logic with which I handle these matters. All that we have between us is a consensual raw, primal need—no need to attach strings.
Reaching the hospital parking lot, I pull into a vacant spot and shut off the engine. Grace walks out of the hospital building. Her blonde hair, usually pulled back in a neat bun, is cascading down her shoulders in a carefree disarray. She smiles brightly when she sees me.
“Dr. Miller,” she greets, her voice laced with a hint of happiness. “Everything alright? I thought your shift and mine were the same today?”
“Yes, they were,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Had to deal with something that came up.”
“Well, whatever it was, I'm glad you're here now.” She smiles, her eyes lingering on me for a beat too long. “And yeah, I should tell you… The team wanted to express their admiration for the way you handled last night. You made our nights.”
“It was nothing heroic,” I mumble, suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. “I’m more grateful for your hard work.”
“Well, some heroes wear scrubs,” she mumbles, her voice playful. “And stethoscopes.” She winks before walking away, her hips swaying with each step.
In the past, Grace’s flirting would have sparked something in me. She’s beautiful and smart, the kind of woman I’d have pursued without a second thought. But now, as I watch her walk away, I feel nothing. There’s no flicker of interest. My indifference is all because of Emma. She is getting under my skin. There’s no doubt about it. And the deeper she seeps in, the more I realize the potential for a messy, painful entanglement.
I need to get a handle on this fast. Emma is a temporary fixture in my life. The sooner I gain control of these borrowed feelings, the less likely I am to get burned.
With a sigh, I grab my bag and step out of the car. The cool night air feels invigorating, a sharp contrast to the tangled mess of emotions swirling within me. Tonight, I have a long shift ahead of me. Maybe focusing on saving lives will be the perfect distraction.
I head to the locker room, changing into my scrubs. As I prepare for my shift, I can’t help but think about how Emma is changing everything. The kiss, the time we spend together, the way she looks at me—all of it is chipping away at the walls I’ve built around myself. I need to remember that the deeper I let these feelings sink, the harder it will be to pull out later.
The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway buzz overhead as I step out of the changing room. My dad stands by the entrance, looking weary in his rumpled scrubs, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in his hand.
“There you are,” he rumbles, a hint of relief in his voice.
“You look knackered.” I gasp. “Long day?”
“Just dealing with some loose ends,” he replies vaguely.
“Thanks for covering my shift this morning.”
“No problem, son.” His smile disappears into his cup as he takes a long sip of his coffee. “So, how was your date?”
The word hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken expectations. A prickle of annoyance runs down my spine. “It was fine,” I mumble, avoiding his gaze. “Just went to check out some wedding venues for Damon and June.”
He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “Well, good luck with that. Finding the perfect spot can be a real headache.” He claps me on the shoulder.
“Go on, get some rest.” I force a smile as I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him toward the exit. “I feel guilty that you’re tiring yourself out on my account.”
“Nonsense,” he gruffly dismisses my concern. “Besides, you know I can't stay away from this place for too long.”
“That's how I know you need to rest,” I counter gently. “Head home, Dad. Get some sleep.”
He studies me for a moment, his brow furrowed in a way that speaks volumes of unspoken concern. “Everything alright, son?”
“Yes, Dad,” I interrupt, cutting him off before he can delve deeper. “Now I need you to head home.”
He nods, a hint of suspicion lingering in his eyes. “Alright then,” he finally concedes. “You take care of yourself. And if there's anything bothering you, don't hesitate to talk about it, alright?”
“Thanks, Dad,” I mumble, feeling a pang of guilt for brushing him off. “I will.”
He gives me a final squeeze on the shoulder before turning and lumbering toward the exit. Watching him go, I can't help but feel a surge of protectiveness. He's worked tirelessly his entire life to build this practice. The least I can do is handle my own problems without adding to his burden.
Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and head to the nurses' station. As I move through the familiar hallways, the sterile smell of the hospital wraps around me, grounding me. The routine is comforting, a distraction from the whirlwind in my head.
One of my first patients is a chatty middle-aged woman named Mrs. Larkin. She’s in for a routine checkup, and as I examine her, she starts talking.
“How’s your relationship with Emma going, Dr. Miller?” she asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
I give her a half-smile. “It’s going well, Mrs. Larkin. Thanks for asking.”
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “Emma was the town sweetheart when she was young, you know. She has a way of pulling people’s hearts and sparking emotions.”
I take in her words, feeling a knot tighten in my chest. “I’ve noticed,” I reply softly.
Mrs. Larkin smiles knowingly. “Just be careful, Dr. Miller. She’s a special one.”
I finish the checkup and move on to my other patients, her words echoing in my mind. Emma has a way of getting under your skin, of making you feel things you’re not sure you want to feel. I know I need to avoid her, to keep my distance before it’s too late.
Emma Rodriguez, with her bright smile and easy laughter, is a threat to my carefully constructed emotional barriers. I have to avoid her. For my own sanity, for the sake of this charade, I have to keep my distance.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of consultations, checkups, and the sterile routine of the hospital. With each passing minute, the need to avoid Emma intensifies. Every time my phone buzzes in my pocket, I flinch, half-expecting it to be a text from her.
Finally, after a grueling shift, I finish my rounds and collapse into a chair in the doctor's lounge in the early morning. Just then, the familiar buzz of my phone disrupts the silence. I pick it up to see Emma's name flash on the screen.
My heart leaps into my throat, a mix of annoyance and a strange longing coursing through me. I stare at the phone, debating whether to answer. Picking up could lead to another conversation, another unexpected spark of connection that I desperately need to avoid. On the other hand, ignoring it might lead her to come to the hospital, and the thought of seeing her face-to-face right now is far more unsettling.
With a sigh of resignation, I swipe the screen to answer.
I take a deep breath. “Hey, Emma.”
“Hi, Liam,” her voice comes through the receiver bright and sharp. “I just wanted to thank you for today. It meant a lot to me.”
“Sure, no problem,” I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral.
There’s a pause on the other end, and then she asks, “Do you want to finish the venue hunting with me tomorrow?”
I hesitate, knowing what I have to do. “I’m sorry, Emma. I’ll be busy helping to lessen the workload on my dad.”
I can hear the disappointment in her voice. “Oh, okay. I understand.”
“Goodnight, Emma,” I say, trying to end the call quickly.
“Goodnight, Liam,” she replies softly.
I hang up and let out a sigh. This is for the best. Keeping my distance is the only way to protect myself from getting hurt. I walk out of the hospital, the night air cool against my skin.
I need to stick to this decision, no matter how much it hurts.