Chapter 2
Chapter Two
brOOKS
T he phone hasn’t stopped ringing all day.
My schedule, which was jam-packed already, is now pushed out six months for a simple consult. We’re getting calls from athletes all over the world, all of them determined to be treated by me. I should be over the moon. This was my dream after all, but all I feel is guilty.
When Delta Jacobs first walked through the doors of Mountain View Orthopedic Surgery, it was only me, my two partners, and a few support staff.
Now, on top of myself, Caleb, and Jenna, we employ three more surgeons, four physician assistants, twelve nurses, seven techs, and six admins.
The practice grew so quickly that we had to take over the insurance office next door just to make more room, and we’re looking at purchasing a larger property across the city to accommodate in-house physical therapy.
My name being mentioned on a national morning show won’t just take us to the next level, it is the next level, and Delta did that for me without asking for a single thing in return .
As if I didn’t feel like enough of a piece of shit to begin with.
I was never the type of physician to get emotionally invested in my patients.
I give them the best care I can, advice on how to avoid further injury and send them on their way.
Some of them listen, some of them don’t, but it’s not on me .
I have a thriving practice and a handful of awards that say I’m an excellent surgeon without getting involved.
Delta Jacobs is the exception.
I didn’t know it, but she had me from the very first time we met.
Walking into that appointment, all I cared about was leveraging River’s influence in the snowboarding community to save my business.
Walking out, all I cared about was protecting Delta.
We spent all of an hour together that day, but that’s all it took. I couldn’t help caring about her.
On the surface, she seems so strong, so capable, but I don’t understand how I could be the only one to notice the cracks in that shiny, Olympian surface.
She’s struggling, and even after three years, I still can’t tell how much of her perseverance is born from a love of the sport that dominates her life, and how much is a fear of disappointing River.
One look at her medical records is enough to see she was probably strapped onto a snowboard before she could walk.
Broken wrists, concussions, dislocations, fractures, sprains, torn ligaments, the list goes on and on.
Protective services would have taken her away from that family if she was any other child, but Delta wasn’t just any child.
She was exceptional. A champion.
Nobody calls it abuse if the victim ends up on a podium and gets a gold medal for their suffering .
I felt protective of her. I wanted to see her happy and safe, and that was it… until it wasn’t.
A few months ago I walked into that exam room, expecting to see a teenage girl, and the world as I knew it shifted beneath my feet.
Delta wasn’t a girl anymore, she was a woman, and all those things I’ve always loved about her were still there.
I was struck by the same fierce, protective instincts she’d always brought out in me.
Except now, I was feeling other things, too. Possessive things.
It hit me so hard and suddenly, I never had a hope of resisting, because this was so much more than ordinary physical attraction. I wanted her more than I knew it was possible to want another person. The kind of want that eclipses every other desire in your life. Obsession.
I stumbled my way through that appointment, avoiding looking at her and scrambling to think of any other cause for my raging erection other than the glimpse of her bare thigh beneath the paper drape.
All the while, Delta sat smiling at me, talking about her life and asking about mine.
She was normal and I—I’d become unhinged.
I still am.
I can pretend all day, every day, that it isn’t happening. I can shove down my feelings for her until I can just about get through a single minute without thinking about her… it doesn’t make a difference. Hours later, when I’m laying alone in bed, I can’t deny it anymore.
In my fantasies, she doesn’t just want the same twisted, depraved things I do. She begs for it.
It’s her face I see, caught between pain and pleasure as I drive into her too hard.
It’s her voice I hear crying my name.
It’s her body I want to break and worship in equal measure .
The shit I’ve thought of doing to her— to Delta . Delta who trusts me and sees me as a friend. Delta who always gives but never takes… Christ . I’m going to hell.
I used to look forward to our appointments. Now, I’m desperate for them. Just seeing her on TV this morning was a shock to the system, and I’ve been pacing the office all day, snapping at everyone as I descend further into turmoil.
If I had a shred of integrity left, I would have sent her off to another doctor the moment I started having these feelings.
There are days when I can just about convince myself to make the call, but even after months of this, I still haven’t done it.
Instead, I greedily hoard our moments together, finding any reason to draw them out, as if hanging out in a doctor’s office is what she wants to do in her free time.
Self-control is a distant memory.
Even now, as the final hours before her appointment slip by, I can’t pretend I’m not crawling out of my skin with the desire to be in the same room as her.
She’s thankfully the last patient on my schedule, and I spend the minutes before she arrives pacing my office and avoiding everyone.
Finally, when the staff parking lot begins to empty outside my window, there’s a quiet knock and the object of my obsession slips inside.
My chest feels like it’s breaking open and being pulled back together all at once at the sight of her.
I missed her so much.
“Hey, Doc,” Delta chirps, smiling at me as she moves around my desk to take her usual chair without invitation.
She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and leggings, with chunky hiking boots laced up on her feet.
Ordinary, casual, and she’s still so beautiful I can barely breathe.
I open my mouth and just as quickly, close it.
I don’t trust myself to speak right now.
It’s always like this when I see her for the first time in a few weeks, as though I need to relearn how to function like a normal, stable human being in her presence.
Today, the lust-drunk animal inside me is kept at bay only by how fucking exhausted she looks.
Her face is thinner, bags color the skin beneath her eyes and she’s too pale for someone who spends all day outside.
I swallow, willing myself to focus and not start demanding answers from her. “How are you? How’s winter training going?”
“Good, busy.” She leans back in the chair, picking at a hole in her t-shirt. “I hope I didn’t overstep with the interview. By mentioning you, I mean. My agent didn’t get the questions until the morning of.”
Although the TV segment has been on my mind all day, I’m still so thrown off that it takes me a minute to remember what she’s talking about. “Oh. That.” My fingers drum mindlessly on the edge of the desk as I try to reorder my thoughts. “No, Delta. It’s fine.”
Her face falls. “I should have checked with you first, shouldn’t I? I swear I tried to call the office the morning of the interview, but Courtney said you were in surgery and?—”
“Delta.” I hold up a hand to stop her rambling and attempt a grateful smile. “It’s great. I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”
She bites her lip, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from groaning.
Christ, if she could get through thirty seconds without making me hard as a rock, this would be a lot easier.
“I overstepped, didn’t I? I swear I was just trying to help.
You’ve done so much for me and I wanted to return the favor, I guess. ”
I haven’t done so much for her, though, not really. Delta’s hip isn’t a complicated case, and I treated her like any other patient who came in with the same diagnosis, albeit aggressively. I bought her a few extra years, but I can’t save her career.
Meanwhile, if it weren’t for Delta and her father, I’d probably have taken a job at the hospital or would still live in my brother’s spare bedroom.
My practice certainly wouldn’t be the size it is today, and I highly doubt I’d have a six-month waiting list of elite athletes, all convinced I’m the man to fix the damage they’ve done to their bodies.
She’s helped far more than I deserve, and all I can do is stab her in the hip with a needle and fantasize about fucking her.
“You didn’t overstep,” I offer a tight, reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s get you that injection. We’ll catch up while you ice it.”
Delta trails after me as I lead the way into the hall and open the door to her usual exam room.
Leaving her to get undressed, I go to grab the supplies I need, moving on autopilot as I try to steady myself in the few moments away from her.
It’s pointless. I know what’s coming, and I have to wonder how long I’ll be able to keep doing this when it would probably be less painful for me to put this needle in my own eye.
I fucking hate it, and her refusal to show she’s in pain somehow makes the whole thing so much worse.
Delta is already perched on the edge of the table when I return, stormy eyes tracking the plastic-wrapped syringe in my hand as I close the door behind me.
“So, eat anything disgusting this week? Or has it all been kale salads and kombucha?” she asks a bit too casually, the paper beneath her crinkling a little as I fold back the sheet to examine her hip.
There are yellowing bruises over most of her golden brown skin and a collection of small, slightly raised surgical scars I’ve imagined kissing a thousand times.