Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Wynter
As usual, it’s a busy day at the clinic.
It’s Friday, so everyone seems desperate to get in before the weekend.
We’re open from eight to one on Saturdays, but it’s by appointment only and they fill up quickly.
So, the waiting room is full, all five treatment rooms are occupied, and someone just walked in with a little girl who’s projectile vomiting.
I rush to get her a bag to capture it, take her mother’s insurance card, and then try to figure out where I’m going to put her because people get uneasy with vomit. Not to mention how unsanitary it is.
“Can you grab a mop, Mary?” I ask our receptionist.
She nods and hurries into the back.
“Just give me a minute,” I say to the woman with the sick baby.
The teenager with mono in Room 6 can go home; they’re just waiting for Dr. Minny to write out his orders, so I shuffle them out to the front desk and then bring the mom and baby in.
“Just give us a few more minutes,” I tell her.
I’ve just walked back to the front when I see someone in my peripheral vision that gives me pause. I freeze mid-step and turn, blinking a few times like my eyes are the problem.
Ross.
Ross?
What on earth is he doing here?
I stare for a beat and then his eyes meet mine. And he smiles.
He smiles.
Like he didn’t ghost me a week ago.
Like he didn’t blow up everything we’d been trying to build without so much as a backward glance.
I purse my lips because I don’t know what to do right now.
“Wynter, Room 6 is projectile vomiting,” Dr. Minny says to me as she brushes past and calls the next patient. “I’ll see her next, but you might need to help out the mom.”
“On it.” I turn on my heel and hurry into the back.
Work is good right now. Something I can focus on other than Ross. I don’t know what to say, why he’s here, or how he even found me, but I don’t have time to deal with him right now.
To my surprise, he sits down in the waiting room and doesn’t move.
Every time I go out to get another patient or deal with an emergency, he’s just sitting in the back of the room. Waiting.
And every time our eyes meet—he smiles.
What the fuck does that even mean?
I’m equal parts annoyed and intrigued.
Finally, at five thirty, when the room is only half full and he’s been sitting there for more than three hours, I approach.
“Hi.” He looks up with that same disarming smile he’s always had. The one that makes my insides flutter.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“Came to apologize to my girl for being a dumbass.”
I stare at him, hard, like I might be able to see right into his soul.
“I’m busy,” I say finally.
“I know. That’s why I’m just sitting here and letting you do your thing. I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
I open my mouth—because he probably has a million other places to be—but close it again without saying anything.
“I’m not done until seven, sometimes later.”
“That’s okay.”
“Ross, it’s silly for you to sit here all day.”
“I’m fine. Go do your thing.”
Instead, I turn and head to the bathroom. Once inside, I yank out my phone and text Harley.
WYNTER: He’s here. At the clinic!
HARLEY: Sasha let us know that he’s coming back tomorrow, and that he wants to talk to everyone.
WYNTER: What do I do?!
HARLEY: What do you want to do?
WYNTER: I love him but he can’t pull shit like this. Either I’m his person, his partner, or I’m not.
HARLEY: I totally get it. You need to tell him that.
WYNTER: I plan to. He’s been sitting in that loud, germy waiting room for hours. I feel bad, but I also feel like it’s a good punishment.
HARLEY: LOL I mean, don’t let him get super sick—he’s headed our way next and I don’t need any of those germs. The band definitely doesn’t.
WYNTER: Good point. Okay, I’m going to go talk to him. Maybe send him to my apartment because you’re right—if he gets sick, he’ll get all of you sick.
HARLEY: Keep me updated!
WYNTER: I will.
I take a moment to compose myself, wash my hands even though I didn’t use the bathroom. Then I take a deep breath and walk to the back where my purse is locked up. I pull out my key—I only have the one—and stick it in my pocket before walking back out to the waiting room.
Ross is still there, in the same seat, still on his phone.
“You should wait for me at my apartment,” I say, proffering the key. “You don’t need to get sick and then get the band sick.”
He frowns. “You’re not worried about getting sick.”
“My immune system is pretty tough after all my years working in the E.R. I’ll be fine. But you should go. I’ll text you the address.”
He stands up slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “I’m not going anywhere until we leave together.”
The last two hours of the day drag, despite how busy it is.
And Ross sits there until I’ve finally got my jacket on and my keys in my hand.
“How did you get here?” I ask when the only cars in the lot belong to me and the two remaining doctors.
“Uber.”
“That’s a long haul from the airport.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Come on.”
We get into my car without saying anything and the ride to my apartment is quiet too.
“So, how mad are you?” he asks as he walks into my apartment.
”Honestly, I’m more frustrated than mad.” I kick off my shoes and sink onto the love seat. “Why would you just disappear like that? I get that you were pissed at Tommy and the band. I understand that you had a knee-jerk reaction to upsetting news…but why would you take it out on me?”
He sighs and sits beside me. “It wasn’t taking it out on you so much as needing space so I could clear my head.”
“And it was too much to ask for you to send me a quick text saying that? I mean, that’s all I needed. So I would know you’re okay. That we’re okay.” I pause. “Unless we’re not.”
“Well, from my end, we’re fine, but you have every right to tell me to fuck off.”
“That’s not how love works,” I say, turning my head so I can fully look at him.
“I didn’t see your text until late last night,” he says after a moment. “I’d turned off my phone, so I was avoiding everyone. Not just you.”
“But I’m not just anyone,” I say in frustration. “I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. We’re supposed to be a couple, united in everything.”
“I couldn’t ask you to choose between me and Tommy. At least, not initially. He’s your family, married to your sister. And that’s not a choice anyone should make. In retrospect, that was ridiculous, but in the heat of the moment, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Tommy hasn’t had any contact with his dad since he was twelve. He doesn’t know or care about him.”
“I know that now.” He extends his hand, resting it on my thigh, palm up.
And waits.
I put my hand in his with very little hesitation because…I have to. The need to touch him is stronger than my pride or anything else.
“One of the things I did while I was waiting today was book a virtual appointment with a therapist I found. I know I have some unresolved issues but I’m owning it. And I’m asking you to give me another chance. Because I love you too, Wynter.”
It feels like all the stress and anxiety of the last week drains out of me the minute he says those last few words. I squeeze his hand and then drop my head onto his shoulder.
“You hurt me,” I say gently.
“I know. And I’m sorry.” He kisses my forehead. “But I’m going to make it up to you. Whatever you want me to do, I’m here and willing.”
I smile. “I need you to make up with Tommy.”
“That’s next on my list.”
“I need you to promise you’ll never do this again. I can’t be with someone that runs when things get tough. And no matter how happy we are, how good our life is, there are going to be hard times. I have to trust that you’ll weather those storms with me, at my side.”
“Always.” He sits up and turns, putting his hands on either side of my face. “I love you. I’ve got some issues and I realize that now, but we’re good. If you want to get married or start making babies—I’m down for all of it.”
My eyes widen. “Babies? What about Ross Rockit?”
“Ross Rockit the solo artist is hopefully going to open for Onyx Knight for the European leg of the tour, but that’s it.
I’m not interested in recording an album or starting over with my music career.
I love my job. Yeah, I love performing too, but I’m not willing to sacrifice the good things I have going for an unknown.
I have options, some ideas of things I might do going forward, maybe writing a song for Onyx Knight, stuff like that—but that’s secondary to us.
You are my priority. I mean that with all my heart. ”
I gaze up into his tired but handsome face. The silver-blue eyes that look like storm clouds. The full, red lips surrounded by a goatee laced with traces of silver. I reach out and trace his lips, his cheekbones, the line of his jaw.
So handsome. So talented. So vulnerable.
And now mine.
“I fell in love with a fantasy when I was twelve,” I say softly.
“The music was real but the man wasn’t. Believe it or not, I cried the day of the bus accident.
I didn’t know you but I felt like I did because of your music.
I was devastated. Not just because people died, but because even at that young age, I could sense how much it must have hurt you.
And I loved you. Not like I do now but in a gentle, ethereal way where I hoped you could feel how much love there was for you. How much support.
“Then we met and I saw how damaged you were. I can’t explain it.
I just knew you were broken, that you still hadn’t recovered.
Not really. Not even after so many years.
But I fell in love with Ross Sanderson, and it changed everything.
Me, my life, how I view the world—even how I view you.
Because the man beneath the Ross Rockit facade is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.
You don’t have to be anyone but who you are with me because I love all of you—even the damaged parts. ”
“I love you, Wynter.” He leans in and his lips are tender against mine.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
“Can I take you to bed?”
“Yes, please.”
He rises and doesn’t wait for me, merely leans down and scoops me into his arms so he can carry me to the bed. He sets me down gently, like I’m fragile and precious, and I’m immediately swept up in his touch. His kisses. His love.