Asher #2
Every inch of my skin is tingling, simultaneously cold and on fire. I can’t go back into that abdomen. I just closed it. It
was a nightmare. I don’t even use towel clamps!
“Is the patient still on the table?” I ask, then glance at Joss, confused. “Wait. What are you doing out here if she’s still
asleep?”
She maintains her stoic, concerned facade for no more than three seconds before she bursts into laughter.
I turn to the now-giggling Cynthia. “What’s going on?”
“Gotcha!” Jocelyn says. “Kevin is with the patient, by the way. I’m not totally negligent.”
My stomach returns to its normal position, though it’s unsure whether it wants to stay there. A bit wobbly.
“We pulled that picture from the internet.” Joss points at the photo. “I told you I’d pay you back for the porno tattoo.”
Holy hell.
This is some next-level shit. When did she get good at this?
“Cynthia!” I cross my arms, but I’m smiling now that all the tension is gone. “Cindy Loo! My main squeeze! You let her do
this? You’re supposed to be Team OB. She’s the enemy.”
Cynthia’s bright eyes twinkle. “She gets her epidurals done so fast, though.”
“Yeah! You hear that, Doctor Foley? I’m the fastest guns in the west.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t even put in a spinal.”
Her mouth drops open. “Take that back!”
“Not a chance.”
Cynthia’s phone rings. She logs out of her computer and heads toward L&D with a wave, leaving us alone.
Arms still crossed, I face Jocelyn. “You.”
She’s not even repentant. Delight glows in her expression, sparkles in her eyes. “Me?”
Aggravating, hilarious woman.
The six thousand rushes of adrenaline I’ve suffered today are searching for an outlet, and a perfect one stands in front of
me, smirking. I step into her space, forcing her to retreat until her back meets the scrub sink and I’m towering over her.
“You think this is funny? I almost had a heart attack.”
She pats my chest. “Your heart is fine. I told you I was coming for your throne.”
I shake my head. “You’re messing with the forces of nature here, Jocelyn. You are not winning this.”
The corner of her mouth quirks like she couldn’t care less. “Maybe not, but what good is a throne if it isn’t challenged now
and again, Ash?”
Anticipation swirls, and I’m practically giddy. I’m not sure what my next move should be, but it will be epic. “This hospital
may not survive us.”
She laughs. “It’s fared pretty well so far.” A beat of silence passes before she cups my shoulder. “Seriously, though, Asher.
That was great. Really, really bloody. But great.”
A tiny seed of warmth sprouts deep inside. Feels nice. Comfortable.
Like Joss.
I brush my thumb over her cheek. “Thanks, angel face.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get the spinal.”
“Bet Cassie could’ve done it.”
With an offended huff, she shoves me away right as the automatic double doors around the corner open.
“Doctor Foley?” echoes a voice down the hall.
“Over here,” I call.
Gabriela, the resident who was supposed to help with my C-section, rounds the corner. “Oh, hey.” The woman throws a reserved
glance at Jocelyn, who smiles in return. Gabriela turns toward me and places a hand on her cocked hip. “Thought you might
still be back here. Heard you were a rock star.”
“Uh . . . You did?” This is bewildering information. “From who exactly?”
She shrugs. “It’s just the word on the street. Anyway, your patient in labor is getting close. Can I scrub with you?”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.”
“Great! I’ll call you when she’s ready.” With a kittenish smile, she wiggles her fingers, a sort of jazz-hands goodbye, before
retreating through the double doors.
Joss laughs. “Oh, did you see that? She wants you bad.”
Wait. Huh?
Got distracted by the rock-star comment. Baffling, really. Did I miss something else?
“She . . . does?” I ask.
Joss’s snort echoes against the tile surrounding us. “Yeah, bruh.”
Not sure what to think of this, so I just shoot her a teasing grin, hoping to brush over it. “Can you blame her?”
None of the residents have ever come on to me directly. One or two have invited me out, but it’s always a group thing. I have
successfully avoided all possible work entanglements for three years like a stand-up, professional citizen.
Except for that one time. After Oktoberfest. The mistake that could have had disastrous consequences. But nothing happened, so it doesn’t count.
Jocelyn bites her lip. “I can’t blame her.”
Uh . . .
What?
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” She waves a hand at me. “You know you’re a catch.”
I want to laugh. If I was a catch, I wouldn’t be so easy to leave. “No, I’m not.”
“Of course you are. That girl would probably faint if you asked her to come with you to Florida instead of me. Don’t fish
for compliments.”
The mention of Florida makes my chest tighten. Do I really need the reminder Joss offered a pity date so I don’t have to be
alone? “I’m not fishing. I’m truth-telling.”
An incredulous laugh bursts out of her. “What? You are absolutely a catch! You’re like the catch of a lifetime. How can you
not see that?”
My head tilts. “Jocelyn. There’s no way you actually believe that.”
“Um. Yeah, I do.”
I don’t even have the words to explain to her how wrong she is, nor—for the sake of my own pride—do I want to.
She flaps her hand toward my body. “If I was a normal girl, I would absolutely be all over that.”
What? “A normal girl? You are a normal girl. And except for one drunken night a long time ago, you’ve never shown any interest in me.”
Her eyes go wide, and I realize my mistake at once.
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. I didn’t mean it like that.
Sudden panicky flutters are massively unpleasant.
Must take it back.
“I mean . . . Shit. Not like I’ve wanted you to show interest. I’m just saying that you are the one who’s a catch, and you are normal. You just haven’t found the person you’re ready to change your ways for. So no, I don’t believe that you would be
all over that because there will come a day when you are ready to change. There will be someone you trust enough to let all the way inside.
That day hasn’t come, and that person definitely isn’t me. So don’t give me fake platitudes to make me feel better. It’s insulting
to both of us.”
Her face blanches. “That’s not what I was doing.” She takes a tentative step closer, her brow wrinkling with concern.
Oh, no. Is this caring Joss? This is the rarest Joss. And also the one that’s hardest to deal with. This Joss is disarming. Confusing. Inner shields
lift of their own volition. Whatever she’s about to say, I must ignore. Caring Joss creeps through my defenses like smoke.
Makes me feel weird things I don’t understand.
“Asher, I don’t think you see yourself clearly. You are such a good man. And you’re nice and successful. And you’re pretty to look at. Any girl would be lucky to have you—”
“Then why am I alone?” The words erupt from me, and I hate them the second they’re out in the universe.
Ack.
This is not a good look.
So much for these useless fucking shields.
Why did I say that? These aren’t things I talk about. They’re safe in my head and with my therapist only. Jocelyn doesn’t
need to hear about my loneliness and insecurities.
But that stupid phrase.
Any girl would be lucky to have you.
Spoken by every woman who didn’t think a man was good enough for her ever. None of them acknowledge the hefty yet unsaid but that follows.
You’re great, but . . .
You’re such a good guy, but . . .
You’re fun to be with, but . . .
Silence follows my words. Joss blinks, brown eyes wide, and then she throws her arms around me. I stiffen at first, but finally
settle into the embrace.
This is so awkward.
Why did I say that?
“I don’t know why you’re alone,” she finally says. “But I know it isn’t because you’re not good enough. I’m one-hundred percent
certain on that, okay?”
I settle my cheek on the top of her head. “Who deemed you the expert?”
“You did. When you made me your ride or die.” She squeezes a bit tighter and lowers her voice. “I’m sorry you’re alone, Asher.
I’m here with you, though. I know that’s not good enough, but maybe it’s good enough for now?”
A trickle of warmth finds its way into my blood. The urge to chuckle at her sweetness is a hard one to suppress. Here’s emotionally
stunted Joss giving what she’s able to give—a simple hug and a promise to sit beside me and weather the storm.
Adorable woman.
“That’s always been good enough,” I say.
She lifts her head to meet my eyes. “I didn’t realize you believed this about yourself. I hate that you have these thoughts.”
“I’m not unhappy,” I say, hoping to backtrack us out of this Asher-is-pathetic vibe.
“I didn’t think you were. But you’re lonely. I can be lonely with you, if you want.”
The smallest smile tugs at my mouth. Caring Joss is impossible to resist. I give a slight nod because that’s what we’ve been doing for three years anyway—being lonely together. “All right. Let’s be lonely.”
She continues to stare. For some reason, her gaze lowers to my mouth, and she throws on her thinking face.
Not a fan of this.
Don’t want her thinking about my mouth. That makes me think about her mouth. Spend far too much time actively avoiding thinking about her mouth. Those thoughts can only lead to bad places.
“You are a catch,” she finally says. “I don’t care if you don’t believe me right now. I’ll keep saying it until you do.”
Stubborn woman.
“Don’t you have work to do or something?” I ask.
She summons a sickly sweet smile and releases me. “Nothing’s more important than you, honey dear.”
My phone dings with a LEGENDARY page. I pull up the message. “I have to go.”
“Fine. Go. Leave me like always. Woe is me.” She presses the back of her hand to her forehead.
Great. She’s going all out, isn’t she? “You’re going to be really dramatic about this whole thing, aren’t you?”
Her eyes gleam in unholy delight.
Ignoring the repeat—and, at this point, borderline offensive—email regarding Dragon training, I pull up the page from the
ER. Possible ectopic pregnancy.