Chapter 17 #2
I remembered, yeah—sunlight skimming across an endless expanse of turquoise water, how hard I’d tried to take myself out of the equation because it was about his future, not mine. Now? I didn’t want to plan one without the other.
“That was, what, a week ago?” My thumb rubbed circles into his skin. “I don’t want you to resent me for… for making you choose something you don’t actually, truly want. Not deep down.”
“No, see, that’s the thing.” His eyes went quiet. “I think there’s a part of me that was maybe kind of ready to do that—to limit myself. Like, I figured out I loved you halfway through the trip…
It thudded through me like a heavy bass line. “You did?”
“Yeah. You’re just a little slow on the uptake.”
I thought of the picture Charley had sent me—Tay and me sitting side by side at the wedding, him laughing with his head ducked a little, caught in a gorgeous wash of evening light, while I smiled at him with this stupid, fond expression that said he was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen.
It had been waiting for me when I got home this afternoon, basically my sister’s version of a kick in the ass, express shipping and all.
“Got there in the end,” I told Tay, and he shot me a grin.
“Guess you did. But what I’m trying to say is that…
You know. Part of me thought I’d be willing to do that—choose something other than CT because it’d be easier for us.
” He paused, words slow but confident, like he really wanted to get them right.
“But I also didn’t really love the idea of going for a consolation prize.
So there was this sense of reluctance. And then you said you’d recused yourself, and it was like, oh.
No thought limits, and suddenly, peds made all the sense in the world.
The idea of giving a kid decades of healthy lifetime?
It so beats a more impressive title.” Another grin that glinted like floating embers.
“Not like my mom won’t be bragging about it either way. ”
I could see it—how he’d take time he didn’t have to sit by a young patient’s bed and explain a complex procedure in simple words, how he’d care.
Too much, at times, so when things went wrong, he’d need someone to catch him.
And I wanted to be there to do just that. Tomorrow, next year, and in a decade.
“You’re really sure?” I asked anyway.
“I am.” He sounded it. “Already asked Dr. Wilson for a recommendation—purely on merit, nothing to do with who I know. She said she’d be delighted.”
Jada held some sway. A couple of years into being an attending, she was known for making families feel seen without sacrificing precision. Gregg liked to joke he didn’t understand what she was doing with a loser like him—fishing for compliments given he was anything but.
“They’d be idiots not to take you,” I told Tay, and he smiled at me, soft and bright in a way that tugged at some spot behind my ribs.
Love. Huh.
“What about…” He fell silent, and I arched a brow at him.
“Your family?” I suggested. “The fourteenth Star Wars sequel no one asked for? The fact that Rory probably wants to murder me?”
“Not murder,” Tay said.
I looked at him, waiting.
“Maybe just maim you a little.” A beat. “You might wanna sleep with one eye open for a while.”
Yep, that’s what I’d thought. I brushed my thumb over the bony bump on the inside of his ankle. Medial malleolus. “Maybe I can avoid them forever. I clear out half my wardrobe, you move in here. Solid plan.”
I expected the joke to land somewhere heavy, but it didn’t. He just grinned at me with a hint of color high on his cheeks—happy. “Didn’t take you for a coward.”
“I pretty much ran from you at the airport.”
“Well, yeah. But then, I’m scary.” He tipped his chin forward and flexed to show off his bicep—not particularly impressive under a sweater that hung loose on him. I reached out to pat his chest.
“Very scary, babe. Like an angry kitten.” Then I let my grin fade, fingers splayed across his rib cage. “Really, though—you are, just a little. To me, at least. Because I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and you could really fucking hurt me.”
“Not planning to.” It was gentle—almost a promise.
“I know. And it goes both ways.” Except I already had. I breathed through the ghostly ache. “But sometimes, things just happen. My point is, I’m okay with that. This is worth it. You are.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice as quiet as his smile.
“Just the truth.” I squeezed his ankle, then leaned back against the armrest of the couch, my legs tangled with his. “Now, what was it you started saying earlier? What about… what, exactly?”
“Right, yeah.” His expression sobered slightly. “What do you want to do at work?”
Yeah. That.
I set my plate aside. “Whatever feels right to you.”
“It’s us, Dean. Not just me.” He watched me for a beat, lamplight washing him in gentle warmth. Then he continued. “If it weren’t for hospital politics, I’d shout it from the rooftops. But with applications and all…”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “If you… I get it. I’d rather not ghost you in the cafeteria, but, yeah.
I get it. Even when it’s a different department, gossip travels faster than the speed of light.
” I paused, a light sense of unease settling in my stomach.
“Recusing myself was meant to free you up, but also as an emergency break, you know? In case you went for CT and we somehow got found out, even just that you went to the wedding with me. But now, if someone blabs about how I stepped aside because I’m compromised—they’ll want to know who I did it for. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“I’m not some fragile little flower.” Tay’s tone was hard to read—pleased, maybe, but also a hint defiant. “I can handle some gossip.”
“I know you can.” I kept my voice even. “But you worry that people won’t take you seriously. I just… I want them to notice you because you’re awesome, nothing to do with the rumor of the week. Because maybe then you’ll believe it, too.”
Something shifted in his face—like light slanting through a crack and filling every crevice. “I love you, you know?”
I swallowed and tasted sunshine. “It’s very, very mutual.”
“Good.” His smile could have started a war, yeah, but ended it, too.
“Then let’s talk about some middle ground, okay?
I don’t want to act like we’re in some spy movie where we have to wear sunglasses and coordinate Starbucks visits so no one sees us together.
But maybe we could—just for a while, like, until fellowship letters drop… maybe we could keep it quiet at work?”
I nudged his thigh with a foot. “So, you don’t want to give the committee an eyeful?”
“Tempting,” he said, grinning. “But no.”
“Fair,” I said, just as I caught him suppressing a yawn. “Tired?”
“Yeah. Didn’t sleep so well these last couple of nights.”
Same, and I had an offensively early start tomorrow because Devon Memorial didn’t pause for private revelations. Which… Yeah. How we’d juggle shifts so we’d get to see each other at least here and there was another conversation on the agenda. Not tonight’s, though.
“Me neither, so why don’t we call it a night? We’ve got time.” I levered myself off the couch and offered him a hand. “Stay? Please.”
Before I could mentally trip over my own “please,” his fingers slotted through the gaps between mine. “Of course.”
“Good.” I held on for a second, then let him go with a wave down the hallway. “Why don’t you grab the bathroom first? There’s an extra toothbrush for you on the counter, toothpaste and the like behind the mirror, and you can steal whatever appeals from the dresser.”
“Sounds good.”
I watched him wander off, rubbing at his face, before I set about assembling half a pizza from our leftovers and sticking it in the fridge. Usually, my place was quiet but for my own breathing. Now I could hear water running, then a steady buzz—approaching.
Tay ambled into the kitchen on bare feet, smile a little foamy and words blurred around his new electric toothbrush. “You got me an exact copy of the one I have?”
“Picked it up earlier, yes. It was meant to be, uh… welcoming.” I pressed a palm to the fridge door. “Not presumptuous, I hope?”
He drifted a little closer. “It’s cute.”
I frowned. “Cute?”
His laugh curled like the smoky jazz from the speakers. “You know, most people don’t act like it’s some kind of grave offense.”
“No one’s ever called me cute.”
“Their loss.”
“Is it just me”—I slid a hand to the back of his neck, our toes touching—“or are you going to be insufferable?”
Eyes on me, he set the toothbrush aside, voice soft and achingly bright. “Were you expecting anything less?”
“No,” I told him. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
His mouth curved into a happy line. “Then why are you still talking?”
“Good point,” I said—and covered his mouth with mine and tasted mint and warmth. Tasted forever.