Chapter 7 Elias
ELIAS
All I can think about from the meeting with Dr. Warrick earlier today is Olivia. She is the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. She checks every single box when it comes to me dreaming up my fantasy woman.
She has this long red hair that reminds me of copper glistening in the sun—my favorite shade. Her light green eyes remind me of the oceans surrounding an island on a beautiful sunny day. The water is clear and bright with a bright shade of emeralds sparkling on the surface of the sea.
Fuck.
I want to drown in her gaze if it means I get to experience those eyes on me.
Don’t get me started on the dash of freckles across the bridge of her nose. I want to trace them, connect them like constellations, and memorize the very placement of them on her face.
She has two small dimples when she smiles that pop on the corners of her mouth, and it took all I had not to kiss them during the meeting.
I’ve never met a woman who has captivated me like she has. My mind drifts back to the woman who messaged me by accident and how much fun she and I have had being complete strangers, sexting when the moment feels right.
Dr. Warrick’s assistant is young too, probably too young for me to ask out.
I’m not sickened by the age gap—I’m bothered.
Bothered because I remember being in my twenties.
Being young, wild, a little too carefree, and that took most of my thirties to pay off.
I’m beyond that now. I’m in a different part of my life.
Women like Olivia are just starting out, just beginning to live their life, and what?
She’s going to choose to date a guy who’s basically halfway done with his life?
I snort to myself. What fucking luck I have. The two women I’m interested in are too young for me.
Miss Wrong Number is someone I haven’t actually met. I don’t think stopping the sexting habit would be an issue, if that’s what I really wanted. But I’m not sure. Why stop a good thing? My mind drifts to Olivia, wondering if I asked her out, would she say yes?
That’s a bad idea. We’re coworkers. Even though we hardly see one another, relationships at the workplace are a bad idea.
Bad ideas are typically the best too, the ones that bring the most joy, the most lust, and the most happiness. Even if it is fleeting and possibly a regret, it’s better to try than to never try at all.
I’m glad Olivia took notes because sitting next to her had me forgetting every word spoken between Dr. Warrick and me.
I shouldn’t have sat next to her in the conference room.
Not that I could control the impulse to be close to her.
It’s as if an invisible string was pulling me, forcing me to be as close as possible.
I didn’t kick her on accident. I wanted to be closer, to touch her in some way that wasn’t obvious. I didn’t miss the way she kept her foot against mine.
I’m going to have to stay as far away from Olivia as possible. No more meeting Dr. Warrick in his office. Not if it means she’s there. I won’t be able to focus.
Every part of her captivated me. The way she nibbled on her bottom lip when she wrote down the notes, or how her cheeks flushed when I would catch her stealing glances at me.
I wonder if Dr. Warrick noticed our chemistry, because there was chemistry—a lot of it, so much that I still feel like I’m being swallowed by the sexually charged air that surrounded us.
“Wow. What turned your frown upside down?” Nurse Jackie tosses some paperwork on the desk. She leans her hip against the counter, arms crossed, a curious smile drifting over her lips to prove she won’t leave until she pries the truth out of me.
Nurse Jackie has been kind ever since she witnessed my own dad punching me in the face. She’s been trying to be my friend, I think.
It’s pathetic. I can’t remember the last time I had a friend.
I’ve isolated myself away from people, away from their opinions and thoughts.
For the longest time, stomaching the presence of anyone was a chore, and now I can’t tell when someone is being polite or if they are actually trying to be a friend.
I blink away my thoughts, standing straighter instead of leaning against the high counter where doctors and nurses come to congregate, drop files, charts, and chitchat.
“What?” I can’t remember what she asked.
She grins, her dark brown eyes swirling with mischief. “Did you meet someone?”
The truth is on the tip of my tongue. It would be nice to confide in someone else, someone who isn’t my own constantly negative state of mind.
I grin, shaking my head. “Why would I tell you that? Then, everyone would know.”
She pretends to be offended, pressing her hand against her chest. “Me? A gossip? I would never do that.”
I drop my chin and lift my eyes with a slight brow raise, giving her a look that says, Really? I don’t believe you.
“I wouldn’t tell a soul! I promise. I’m not a gossip and you know it.
” She slaps my shoulder, her gaze catching on my black eye and bruised jaw.
Her happy demeanor changes, her curious smile turning into a worried frown.
“How do you feel? Have you gone back to visit your dad?” She raises her hands. “Sorry, that’s not my business.”
I realize the only way I’ll make friends is if I open up a little. I’m closed off and I’m not proud of that. It’s decades of isolation and proving to myself that the only person I need is myself. That leads to a lonely life, and I’m very tired of being alone.
Jackie turns to walk away, and I grab her arm to stop her.
“No, no. It’s okay. I’m not used to people asking about me, especially since I’m the new guy here, and the guy who lets his seventy-year-old father sucker punch him in the face.
” I touch the sore swollen spot on my cheek, sighing with exhaustion knowing the situation with my father is far from resolved.
If it ever will be.
“No. I haven’t visited him. I don’t want to.
I don’t care to.” I wince when I hear the complete contempt and hatred I have for the man twist within my words.
I rub my temples, a low, dull throb that only occurs when I have to talk about my family.
“I’m sure he’ll get sobered up, leave, and he’ll go back to his ways.
I’ll hear from him again in a few years probably.
Either to bury him or to get another punch across the face.
It’s the same shit different day with him. He did what he came here to do.”
“What do you think that is?” Jackie asks gently, her eyes softening as she pats my hand that’s clutching the counter so hard, my knuckles are white and a stab of pain from the pressure in my fingers zings through my hand.
“To remind me.” I shut my eyes, needing to cover the wave of agony that hits me in the chest like a tsunami.
“Remind you of what, dear?”
I like how Jackie speaks. It’s delicate, sensitive, and full of understanding even though she has no idea what she’s about to understand.
She reminds me a lot of my mom—what my mom was like, that is.
Jackie is around my age, though, with a few gray hairs sprouting around her temples.
She has that motherly energy—the type of person people can trust after just one encounter.
She’s warm, inviting, and cares about everyone around her.
It’s why she’s such a great nurse.
“Remind me that I’m the reason my mom is dead,” I say bluntly, a bit sad and a bit angry all at once.
“And I know, I’m not. I know that.” I lean down, my elbows resting on the counter, and turn to look at Jackie who has placed her chin in her hand, listening intently.
“I know I’m not the reason,” I repeat, trying to convince myself with the words.
“She had a brain aneurysm. She’s the reason I’m a neurosurgeon. ”
“Which explains how amazing you are in surgery. You have an amazing success rate with aneurysms. You’ve made Warrick General even more famous.” She winks, trying to ease the tension pouring from me.
Something between a scoff and a laugh escapes me.
“Nothing could make this hospital more famous. The Warrick name is enough.” I grab the back of my neck, rubbing and stretching it to ease the ache growing at the base of my skull.
“Anyway, the aneurysm burst after she was worried and stressing over me. She died instantly.”
“Oh, sweetie. Come here.” Jackie takes me by surprise and wraps her arms around my waist since that’s where she can reach. She turns her head and places her cheek against my chest, giving me a tight hug.
I freeze. My arms are frozen at my sides.
It’s been so long since someone has hugged me like this.
I think the last time was when my mom was alive.
Emotion bubbles in my throat and I swallow it down, finally wrapping my arms around her frame, and her hand pats my back like I’m a small child that needs soothing.
There’s a part of me that is, I suppose.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She peels away from me, patting my cheek next. “I know you know that. Mothers worry. It’s what we do. That aneurysm was there with or without you there.”
“I know.” I swallow, not completely understanding how she’s so easy to talk to. I’ve told her more than most people I’ve met over the years.
I miss hugs. I didn’t realize how touch starved I was until she invaded my space. It’s like she started to peel back layers, that I had sealed shut, just with that hug—a mother’s hug.
“Anyway, that’s why my dad hates me. He thinks I killed the love of his life. I have no interest in seeing him. I’d rather just move on with my life.”
She frowns. “I suggest you talk to his doctor, then. Dr. Washington.”
“Why?”
“Just talk to her, okay?” She grips my arm lightly. “I have to go make rounds, but if you want to talk, find me. We can swap numbers later too if you want to talk. You can always come over. Granted, I have five kids, so it’s chaos, just a heads-up, but my husband is great on the grill.”