Chapter 11 Elias #2
Her squinted eyes go wide before she bursts into a fit of giggles, gasping in shock at my answer. “No way! I can’t believe that. I figured you for someone who read mystery, thriller, murder books.” She traces the rim of the glass with her fingers. “Maybe even self-help books.”
I raise my hands in innocence. “Nothing against self-help books, but I really like fiction as well. Maybe…” I risk it, swallowing my nerves, and finally put myself out there for the first time in years.
“Maybe you’d want to go to a bookstore together sometime?
We could both pick a book out for one another, and then report back on our thoughts.
” I reach my hand out in front of me, hoping she’ll agree.
“Deal. That sounds like a lot of fun.” She slips her hand into mine, that familiar spark tickling the inside of my palm.
I brush my thumb across her knuckles, once, twice, three times to make my interest clear, before she pulls away.
Shit. I pushed too far. I need to remind myself that this is a colleague and she doesn’t need a man hitting on her, especially after tonight. I’m about to open my mouth to apologize when her attention catches on someone else who’s standing at the bar.
“I think that’s Wyatt,” she whispers, her gaze landing on me before going back to the man named Wyatt.
I blink, not knowing who she’s talking about.
“Wyatt Warrick,” she explains. “Winston’s little brother.”
“That’s right. I forgot Winston has younger brothers. He’s mentioned them briefly, but I’ve never met them before.”
“I wonder what he’s doing here,” she mumbles. “Wyatt!” she calls. “Hey, Wyatt!”
The man in question turns around, eyes haunted and tired. He brightens when he sees Olivia. Who wouldn’t? He comes over a few moments later, plopping down right next to her, and my stomach turns with jealousy.
His hand is wrapped around a pint glass while the other is tucked in his pockets. He leans his head back and stares up at the ceiling, a slight tremble to his bottom lip as if he’s barely keeping it together.
“Hey, are you okay?” Olivia asks gently, bumping his shoulder with hers. “You seem down. This isn’t your usual spot either. It’s on the opposite side of town.”
He drops his attention from the popcorn ceiling to me. “Hey. Sorry to crash the party. Am I interrupting a date? Shit, Olivia. I’m so sorry. I’m Wyatt Warrick.”
“Elias Carrington. Nice to meet you.”
“I know you. You’re that hotshot brain surgeon. You were in demand. I’m glad my brother was able to swoop in and convenience you that Warrick General is the place to be.”
“I’m really liking it so far.” My eyes drift to Olivia for a split second, hoping that the connection I feel isn’t one-sided.
Wyatt grins knowingly. “Good. That’s good. Well, I’ll get out of your hair. I don’t want to ruin a date.”
“It isn’t a date,” Olivia clarifies quickly, snatching Wyatt’s arm to keep him seated.
Damn.
I know it isn’t a date. My mind got ahead of me, wishing that it was, wondering if it could be, hoping that maybe we would hit it off. I just want the chance to prove to her that I would treat her so fucking good.
“Actually,” Olivia continues, “Elias and Winston saved me from a horrible date I was on. The man was a nightmare. You just missed Winston, actually.”
Wyatt frowns. “I’m sorry to hear about your date.
I’m glad they intervened. And good, I’m glad Winston isn’t here.
He’d ask me a bunch of questions, and I don’t feel like dealing with the big brother side of him.
” He takes a big gulp of his beer. “I needed to get away from where I work, the people, and just have some space to myself.”
“Wyatt, what’s going on?” Olivia softens her voice, giving me a quick look of concern.
“Your troubles are safe here,” I add. “I’m a doctor. I know you are too. Olivia is surrounded by doctors every day. Whatever happened, it might feel better to get it off your chest.”
His eyes become glassy and I realize tears are waiting to fall. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it. I don’t know if I have the energy to. I took a week off. I need some time to clear my head.”
“What happened, Wyatt?” Olivia asks, so sweetly that I’m not sure how he can avoid answering her. I would divulge all my secrets if she spoke to me that way.
“I…I…” he stammers, curling his fingers around the glass. “I need to go. I’m sorry. I need to go. Please, don’t tell Winston you saw me. He’ll worry and I don’t need him to do that when he has a pregnant wife and kid at home.”
“Wyatt. Wyatt, where are you going! Don’t go. We won’t talk about it anymore. Let’s order you some food and we can have a good night.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t want to put a damper on anything.” He kisses Olivia’s cheek, then shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you. Sorry I wasn’t in a better mood.”
“Don’t worry about it, man. It happens to all of us, but if you ever want to talk, here’s my card.” I reach into my pocket to give it to him. “Anytime. Our jobs can be hard. Just know you have a friend who will listen.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, gripping the card as if it’s a lifeline. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Have a good date.” He manages to smirk before downing the rest of his beer and leaving.
Our food arrives, the smell of steak wafting through the worried silence Wyatt left us in.
“Think he’ll be okay?” I ask Olivia.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like that before.
Something really bad must have happened.
Wyatt is the happy-go-lucky type. Nothing can ever get him down.
Winston is always complaining about Wyatt and Waylon,” she chuckles at the memory of something Winston must have said.
“When Wyatt and Waylon get together, it’s chaos.
Winston is the oldest. He’s always been a little more levelheaded.
It will be hard to keep this from him—I don’t lie to Winston.
He’s my boss, but I consider him…” She tries to think of the word that fits him best.
“Like maybe a father?” I finish her unfinished sentence for her, easing my voice to show no judgment.
“Yes! Exactly.”
“He thinks of you like a daughter. He told me. I don’t know if I was supposed to tell you that.”
“The secrets are overflowing tonight.” She winks. “What will we do?”
I smirk, lifting my glass in the air. “To sharing secrets.”
Her gaze softens so much that her lips become relaxed in a slight pout. I want to lean over, brush my thumb across her bottom lip, and take her in a deep kiss.
“To sharing secrets,” she cheers, clinking my glass.
Sharing a secret might not mean much to some, but to me, it’s building a bridge between us that wasn’t there before. All I can hope is that it’s a bridge she will want to cross one day to meet me in the middle. One day.
For now, I’m content.
The room is crowded, but to me, she’s the only one here.