Chapter 27
27
JARED
I spent another night awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.
Sleep was impossible.
Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Amelia’s face—her hurt, her disappointment, her resolve as she walked out of my house.
I knew I messed things up.
I wasn’t even sure why.
I told myself it was for the best, that keeping her at arm’s length was the right thing to do.
But maybe I was just scared.
Scared of letting her in, scared of getting hurt, scared of being vulnerable.
Gemma did a number on me.
I hated that. Hated that I allowed myself to be vulnerable.
It made me feel weak.
The thought of ever letting myself get involved with someone else terrified me.
Did that make me even more of a coward?
Probably.
I wasn’t a complete fool.
I knew I was making my life difficult.
I could choose to put down the walls and take a chance.
That wasn’t me. I had important work to focus on, and trying to navigate a romantic relationship was just a distraction.
I dragged myself out of bed, headed for the kitchen, and started the coffee maker.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the drip of coffee like it might give me answers.
I kept thinking distance would heal things, make things clearer, but it was just the opposite.
She was different.
The words echoed in my mind.
Why did I have to say it that way?
It was true. She wasn’t like anyone else.
Amelia didn’t just accept the walls I put up.
She challenged them, demanded more from me than anyone else ever had.
She could see what I refused to show—what I hardly admitted to myself.
The sky outside was a flat gray, threatening rain or maybe just an endless overcast day.
It suited my mood perfectly.
There was no hiding from this tight, painful knot in my chest. I didn’t know if it was real pain or if it was lack of use.
My heart had been frozen for a long time.
This whole feelings thing was very unpleasant.
I wanted to turn it off again.
But something told me not to.
I had to hold on. To what, I didn’t know.
I poured the coffee and took it to the window.
I should find her. Apologize again.
Tell her… what? That she deserved better?
That she should wait for me to figure myself out?
That last thought made me grit my teeth.
She wouldn’t wait forever.
Nor should she.
I had been going out of my way to avoid her the last couple of days.
I didn’t walk past her lab, didn’t drop in to check on her research, didn’t even glance in the direction of her lab.
It was easier that way.
Or at least, that was what I told myself.
But the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
About the way she’d looked at me, the way she’d said, I want more.
And the way I’d let her walk away.
I finished my coffee and got dressed for the day.
Once again, I found myself going in the side door to avoid her.
It was early, long before most of the researchers were even in the lab.
I was doing a surgery today and wanted to take a few minutes to review the case and my plan to remove the tumor that was going to be a real bitch to get to.
The OR was cold, sterile, just the way I liked it.
I thought being here would clear my head, help me focus and forget for a little while.
My assistant, Taylor, was already scrubbing in.
“Good morning.”
I nodded, trying to lose myself in the routine, the familiarity.
“You ready for this one?”
“It’s gonna be a challenge,” she said, sounding excited.
That was what I usually lived for—the challenges.
But today, my mind wasn’t letting go of Amelia as easily as I’d hoped.
Focus had always been my strong suit.
Not today.
“Let’s move,” I said, more to myself than to her.
We prepped quickly. I checked the scans again, tracing the position of the tumor with my finger on the image.
Deep and tricky but not impossible.
The patient was wheeled in, prepped and draped.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself at her side.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s get started.”
The hum of machines and soft beeps were familiar sounds that usually calmed me but today just reminded me of how little control I had everywhere else.
Taylor handed me the scalpel.
I made the incision slowly, carefully.
This part was delicate; one wrong move could change everything.
It felt like an unfortunate metaphor for everything happening outside of this room.
My hand hesitated for the briefest moment as I navigated through the intricate web of blood vessels surrounding the tumor.
My focus was razor sharp, but something felt off.
I had a gut feeling about things and I never ignored my gut.
“Suction,” I said quietly.
Taylor moved quickly, clearing the field of view.
The tumor was nestled deeper than the scans had suggested, pressing against a critical artery.
“That’s not good,” Taylor whispered.
“No, it isn’t,” I said as I reassessed the situation, mentally recalibrating my approach.
One wrong move here—one slip—and it could be catastrophic.
“We’re going to need to adjust,” I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else.
“Get me the micro instruments.”
Taylor handed them over without question, her eyes flicking between me and the monitors.
I could feel her tension.
She trusted me. They all trusted me.
And yet, in that moment, I felt anything but trustworthy.
I steadied my hand and began the painstaking process of separating the tumor from the artery.
Each millimeter felt like an eternity.
My mind raced ahead to every possible complication.
This was a tightrope walk through a hurricane but I stayed calm, collected.
This was what I did.
This was who I was. This was why I couldn’t afford distractions like love in my life.
“Towel,” I said.
The nurse quickly patted my brow.
I pushed everything from my mind.
It was just me, the tumor, and my patient’s brain.
There were some tricky moments, and the surgery took twice as long as we had scheduled but the patient made it through.
When he woke up, we would see if there were any unexpected consequences, but for now, it seemed to have gone off without a hitch.
I walked to my office and sat down.
That had been a difficult surgery.
I hated when shit went sideways.
I rubbed my hands over my face and reached for the bottle of orange juice.
I needed to hydrate and get some food after that surgery.
Shawn walked in about fifteen minutes later.
“Heard you had a rough one.”
I nodded.
“Yeah, sneak attack.”
He chuckled and sat down.
“You handled it, though. That’s what matters.”
“Handled it” wasn’t the phrase I would’ve used.
More like survived it.
I took another swig of orange juice.
“You okay? You look troubled. Did something go wrong with the patient? The charts looked good.”
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
“I’m just tired.”
“Well, don’t let anyone else see you tired,” he said.
“People might realize you’re actually human.”
I let out a long breath.
“I certainly don’t feel human most days. Emotions are a burden.”
Shawn shrugged.
“Feelings are how you know you’re alive. So of course, they annoy you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Can you take these case files to Amelia?”
It was a little junior high, but I didn’t have the energy to look at her right then.
The surgery had drained me.
Shawn looked confused.
“Amelia?”
“Yes, Amelia. Can you drop them off to her?”
“You don’t know?” he asked.
My stomach dropped. “Don’t know what?”
Shawn hesitated.
He looked very uncomfortable.
That didn’t bode well.
“Amelia’s not here.”
“Like she’s out sick?” I asked.
“No. She had to leave for Miami a few mornings ago. She’s on bereavement leave now.”
I sat forward.
“Bereavement leave? What are you talking about?”
Shawn sighed.
“Her mom passed away.”
“Her mom ?”
I felt like I had slept through the last week.
What the hell did I miss?
“Her mother was at a long-term memory care facility in Miami.”
“I didn’t know,” I said.
“She apparently had advanced early-onset dementia. She had a series of strokes, and… well, it wasn’t good. She passed away a couple days ago. Amelia met with HR the morning after her mom died to set up her leave. It’s why she took most of last week off. She’d been in the hospital with her mom.”
I felt like the world’s biggest dickhead.
My mind raced, pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
Her sudden disappearance during the conference, her reluctance to open up about her personal life, the way she’d looked at me when I’d asked about her dependent on the insurance plan.
It all made sense now.
And I’d been too wrapped up in my own issues to see it.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I asked.
Shawn shrugged. “I don’t know, man. But from what Clair said, Amelia’s been dealing with this for a while. Maybe she didn’t want to burden anyone with it.”
I ran a hand over my face, my chest aching.
“How long is she on leave?”
“Not sure,” Shawn said.
“Clair mentioned she has to go back to England for a while to settle her mom’s estate. Could be weeks. Maybe a month or two.”
I felt my stone heart crack.
Amelia was gone. And she might not come back.
The thought made my chest hurt.
A wave of regret washed over me.
I’d pushed her away when she needed kindness.
Her mother died shortly after we had our conversation.
I was the biggest asshole in the world.
“Fuck,” I groaned and dropped my head to my desk.
“Son of a bitch.”
“You okay, Jared?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t fine.
I felt like I’d been punched.
Amelia had been carrying this weight alone, and instead of being there for her, I’d pushed her away.
I’d let her walk out of my house, out of my life, without even trying to understand what she was going through.
I sat up and looked at him.
“Does she have anyone here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Shit. Thanks for letting me know.”
“You going to be okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not the one that just lost my mom.”
“Alright, I’ll see you around.”
Shawn left and I sat there, staring at the folder on my desk.
I needed to fix this.
I needed to make things right.
But I didn’t know how.
I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.
I had to talk to her.
I had to tell her… what?
That I was sorry? That I was an idiot?
That I was scared of letting her in, but I didn’t want to lose her?
I grabbed my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found her number.
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the call button.
What would I even say?
Hey, Amelia, I heard about your mom.
I’m sorry I was a jerk.
Can we talk?
It sounded pathetic, even to me.
But I had to try. I couldn’t let her go without at least telling her I was sorry for her loss.
I took a deep breath and pressed the call button, my heart pounding as the phone rang.
Once. Twice. Three times.
And then her voicemail picked up.
“Hey, it’s Amelia. Leave a message.”
I hesitated, debating what to say.
I probably should have thought about that before I called.
“Amelia, it’s Jared. I… I heard about your mom. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I should have been there for you. Call me when you get this. Please.”
I hung up and stared at the wall.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
But it was a start.
By the time I got home that night, I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
I poured myself a drink and sat on the deck, staring out at the water.
Amelia didn’t call or text me back.
I wasn’t going to keep hounding her.
She had her hands full and didn’t need me bugging her.
I had screwed that up like I screwed up everything nonmedical.
It was my curse and I didn’t need to subject Amelia to it.
The best thing I could was leave her alone.