Chapter 29
29
JARED
T he past two months had been the worst of my life.
I’d become an emotionless demon, burning bridges in every direction without a second thought.
It wasn’t anything new—this was how I’d gotten this far in life.
Feeling nothing, caring about nothing, had always been my MO.
And I planned to keep it that way.
I walked into the scrub room and went through the usual process.
My mind was already moving through the steps I would take for the surgery.
Shawn walked in and started scrubbing.
“Is the family here?” I asked.
“Yeah, they’re in the waiting room. They’re nervous,” Shawn replied.
“It’s a big deal for them—they’ve been waiting for this for months.”
I nodded absently, my mind already shifting to the surgery.
“They’re in good hands,” I said, more out of habit than reassurance.
I wasn’t great at the comforting part—that was Shawn’s specialty.
He had a way with people that I could never quite manage.
I could give facts and statistics and offer a lot of confidence, which was often enough.
And in some cases, I could connect with people, but Shawn was a lot better at it.
Especially lately.
We finished scrubbing in silence.
I led the way into the OR.
The patient was already prepped, the team waiting for us to begin.
I glanced at the monitor, checking the vitals one last time before I stepped up to the table.
“Scalpel,” I said, holding out my hand.
The overhead lights were bright enough to blind.
It was necessary. They illuminated the delicate terrain of the patient’s brain.
The patient, a young woman with a rare brain tumor, lay motionless beneath the drapes, her fate resting in my hands.
The procedure was delicate, every movement calculated, every incision precise.
But I could handle it.
This wasn’t just skill; it was instinct, years of training distilled into a steady hand and sharp mind.
Shawn stood to my left, watching and learning and ready to jump in should things get dicey.
“Suction,” I murmured.
The nurse responded instantly, anticipating my needs before I even voiced them.
Shawn watched me but gave me space to work.
“You’re deep in the glioma now,” Shawn noted.
“I am.” I adjusted my grip on the instrument and studied the exposed tissue.
“Margins look clean so far. No major vascular involvement. I should be able to preserve function in the surrounding cortex.”
Minutes stretched into an hour, then two.
The tension in my shoulders was constant, but I thrived.
It was one of the reasons I had a gym in my house.
I had to be in good physical shape to do this work.
Sometimes, I was on my feet for ten hours straight.
Core strength mattered.
It wasn’t only vanity.
“Bleeder on the lateral margin,” Shawn warned.
I reacted immediately, shifting instruments with practiced ease.
The suction caught the small rush of blood.
I cauterized the vessel before it could become a problem.
“Good catch,” I said.
He chuckled softly. “I’m learning from the best, or so I’m told.”
I worked in silence.
I preferred to teach by showing.
None of my mentees were going to learn anything if I was running my mouth.
My mind was running through every possible complication, every escape route if something went wrong.
But nothing did. Slowly, carefully, I excised the remaining portion of the tumor, ensuring clean margins.
Then, finally?—
“Tumor is fully resected,” I announced.
A collective exhale could be heard in the room.
But I didn’t celebrate, not yet.
I never did until the patient was closed up and stable.
Shawn’s beeper went off.
He muttered something under his breath and stepped away.
He glanced at the screen.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Clair’s back on the island,” he said.
“She’s checking in.”
“I didn’t know she was gone.”
“She made a quick trip to Miami,” he said.
“I thought you knew.”
I had probably been told, but I didn’t pay attention.
That wasn’t unusual.
I didn’t look up, my hands steady as I worked.
“Was it a shopping trip or something?”
Shawn didn’t immediately answer.
“She flew over to pick up Amelia.”
My hands froze for a fraction of a second before I forced myself to keep going.
Amelia . She was back.
The thought sent a jolt through me, but I didn’t let it show.
I couldn’t. Not here.
Not now.
“Good,” I said, my voice flat.
“We could use her in the lab.”
“Agreed,” he said.
Hours later, I was walking back to my office.
I had checked in with my patient and talked to the family.
Things were good. She was going to make a full recovery.
I passed Amelia’s lab, glancing inside.
She wasn’t there, but her assistants were hard at work.
The lab was busy as usual.
She had chosen good assistants.
They knew what she wanted from them and were very capable of working without her direct supervision.
I’d had two months to get over her.
It hadn’t been easy.
I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it if she hadn’t ghosted me.
Her complete withdrawal made it a lot easier.
I honestly didn’t think she was ever coming back.
I didn’t bother trying to find out anything more about her absence.
If she wanted me to know, she’d call.
Or text.
It took me a couple weeks just to be able to sleep normally.
Another couple of weeks to stop replaying every detail of our last conversation.
I had finally gotten to the point of acceptance.
But I wasn’t going to trip up again.
I’d learned my lesson.
I was back to being the bad boy, the alpha, the man who didn’t let anyone get too close.
If and when I saw her again, it wasn’t going to matter.
I wasn’t going to think about being inside her or tasting her.
I wanted to say I was a hundred percent over her, but if I was truly over her, I would have moved on.
I would have had sex with other women.
I had considered it but there was just no way I could take a woman to bed.
She had ruined me in that regard.
When I reached my office, Gemma was waiting for me.
She was perched on my desk, her arms crossed, a smirk on her face.
It was basically one of those poses you would expect to see in some calendar.
The top few buttons of her blouse were undone.
Her skirt hit mid-thigh, and her heels were not what a typical doctor would ever wear.
She was dressed to seduce.
She’d been hanging around more often lately and I was not into it.
Once broken, trust could never be repaired, and she had shattered it when she cheated.
“How’d the surgery go?” she asked, her tone casual as she looked me up and down like I was sitting on a dessert cart.
She could look all she wanted.
I would never give her another chance.
I shrugged, dropping into my chair.
“Fine. Routine.”
She nodded.
“Don’t be humble, Jared. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not being humble,” I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. “It was straightforward. Nothing to brag about.”
Gemma tilted her head, her smirk widening.
“You love to brag. You walk around like you’re right up there with God.”
I didn’t respond, just reached for the stack of reports on my desk and started flipping through them.
Gemma slid off the desk, her heels clicking against the floor as she moved closer.
She leaned over my shoulder, her perfume invading my space.
“Busy tonight?” she asked, her voice low and suggestive.
“For you, yes, I’m booked solid,” I replied, not looking up.
“Go find another sucker to cozy up to.”
She laughed softly, her breath warm against my ear.
“Come on, Jared. You deserve a break. Let me take you out. Dinner, drinks, whatever you want.”
I turned my head slightly, meeting her gaze with a level stare.
“I’d rather starve, Gemma. Thanks.”
She pouted, an exaggerated expression that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You’re no fun anymore. What happened to the man who used to know how to enjoy himself?”
“I still know how to enjoy myself,” I said, turning back to my reports.
“And I find it’s much easier when you’re not around.”
“We can still have some fun.”
“No, I’ve grown up since we were a thing. You should try it sometime. I guess I have you to thank for that.”
“Me?” she asked, blinking.
“Cheating on me really knocked some sense into me,” I said.
“Teaches a guy that some women aren’t worth trusting.”
Gemma straightened.
“Ouch. That’s harsh, even for you.”
I shrugged.
“Just being honest.”
“Have you given any more thought to my offer? About coming back to the lab?”
I leaned back, my expression unreadable.
“Still thinking about it.”
Her hands slid onto my shoulders, her fingers digging into the tense muscles.
“You’re so stiff,” she murmured, her voice low.
“You need to relax.”
I shrugged her off, my tone sharp.
“Why the hell are you touching me?”
“You’re stiff. Let me work the tension out. I used to massage you all the time after a long surgery. Remember? I’d massage you with that special oil and then we’d both be so worked up we would fall into bed.”
“Those aren’t the parts of our relationship I remember. So stop before I make you stop.”
She pouted, but before she could say anything else, there was a knock at the door.
I looked up, and there she was.
Amelia. Standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, her expression unreadable.
Seeing her again was jarring.
It felt like a physical kick to my gut.
She looked different—but still beautiful.
I wanted to tell her how good it was to see her.
I also wanted to tell her she wasn’t seeing what she thought.
“Dr. Pritchard, you’re back?” I kept my tone dry.
Gemma smirked, pulling away from my desk and floating toward the door.
She gave Amelia a catty onceover.
“We’ll continue this conversation later tonight, Jared.”
Amelia’s eyes flicked to Gemma, then back to me, but she didn’t say anything.
She stepped into the office, her hands clasped in front of her.
She looked down at her feet.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m jumping right back into work. And I wanted to thank you for the time off. I’ve kept in touch with my team and am up to speed.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
She met my eyes for a moment.
I felt a flicker of regret, longing.
But I pushed it down, burying it deep.
She turned and left, the door closing softly behind her.
As soon as she was gone, I ran a hand over my face, feeling absolutely defeated.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
Self-preservation told me to keep my distance.
I had made peace with her absence.
Reopening that can of worms didn’t seem like a good idea.
I pushed open the door to Room Twelve.
The patient, a middle-aged man named Carl, lay propped up in bed, his face pale but alert.
I scanned his chart quickly, my eyes flicking over the numbers.
Everything looked stable.
Good.
“Dr. Welch,” Carl said, his voice a little hoarse.
“Wasn’t expecting to see you again today.”
I stepped closer, leaning against the edge of his bed.
“Just making my rounds before I head out. How’re you feeling?”
He shrugged, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position.
“Little groggy. But better than yesterday. That’s something, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding.
“It is. You’re recovering well. Just take it easy and let the nurses do their job.”
Carl chuckled, a dry sound that turned into a cough.
“Easy for you to say, Doc. You’re not the one stuck in this bed.”
“True. Any questions? Concerns?”
Carl shook his head slowly, his expression turning serious.
“Just, thanks. For everything. I know you took a chance.”
“That’s what I do,” I said, knowing it was only true when it came to work.
When it came to my personal life, risks were not something I wanted to take.
It only led to pain.