The Bind

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Colter

“G ood morning, boss man.”

Annaliese whips open my office door as she greets me. Without breaking concentration from the report in my hands, I grunt in response and lift a hand to point to the chair in front of my desk.

Her light steps bounce the few paces to the open chair and she falls into the seat; her bag hits the floor with a thud that’s way too loud for five something in the morning.

I’m not a morning person. I hate small talk in general, and in the mornings, it’s worse.

I’ve noticed that’s not the case with Annaliese. She’s perky at five in the morning and after a twelve hour surgical day. She’s perky in the middle of the night when she calls to wake me up with an emergency. She’s perky all the damn time. That should annoy me. But it doesn’t.

In fact, her perky, gorgeous face is the reason I’m so exhausted today.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to fall asleep because every time I closed my eyes and drifted off, I thought of her. Her coffee-colored eyes paired with her luscious, dark curly hair. That smile that can brighten up even the darkest of situations. The way her face twists when she says something snarky and waits for my response.

Being around her also has me questioning Richard. I don’t understand why he wants to change her, let alone sabotage her, and it leaves me questioning his motives. Besides giving her a shit schedule, I haven’t held up my end of the promise to him, and that thought churns my stomach more than anything.

“And how are you today?” she prompts, swinging one leg over to the other to bounce her foot. The tip of her shoe must be brushing against the edge of my desk, the faint sound the only noise in the otherwise peaceful office.

“Why are you such a ray of sunshine today?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she quips, lifting her arm to check her watch. “Normally you’re at least somewhat tolerable toward me by 5:49 in the morning.”

I grunt, a hint of a smile threatening to crack my crabby exterior. “Normally I am, but I slept like shit last night and forgot my coffee mug on my counter at home. I refuse to drink the shit that comes from the breakroom.” It’d be safer to crack the lines in my car and drink the battery acid.

“Well,” she slaps her knees, rising to stand, “let’s go. By the time I get changed and we walk your sorry ass upstairs, the coffee shop will be open. We can get you some caffeine and maybe you’ll be a little less crotchety.”

I slam the screen of my laptop shut, leaning back in my chair. My hands come up and I scrub my palms over my face, noting I’m overdue for a shave. “Did you just call me crotchety?”

“Mmhhmmm,” she muses. “I think it fits.”

I drop my hands, blinking the sleepy blur from my eyes as I open my mouth, ready to fire off a comeback when the words die on my lips.

I finally lay my eyes on her for the first time since she walked in this morning, and I see that she’s not wearing scrubs. No, she’s wearing a dress.

Something that is completely casual yet work appropriate, but it still forces my blood to pump harder. Since we have to wear hospital scrubs during surgery, we can technically dress however we want when we come to work. I choose to wear my own scrubs or joggers because it’s the most comfortable. Some doctors dress in business casual in case they run into a patient or family member in the hall. Others, like Annaliese, wear their street clothes. With the fall weather being unseasonably warm, I’ve seen some nurses arrive at the hospital in shorts, so a dress makes perfect sense.

But a dress on her isn’t something I could have prepared myself for. It fits loosely, nearly falling to her knees but it still manages to showcase her athletic body. I can see her toned legs sculpted underneath and find myself needing an adjustment beneath my desk. The kicker is her luscious dark hair. Normally, it’s already tied up and tucked neatly under her scrub cap by the time I see her, but today, it hangs loose.

It falls over her collarbone, landing just above her perky tits. Bouncy curls tickle her cheeks when she tilts her head to stare at me, and it leaves me wondering if they’d feel as soft as they look.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, and I know I’ve been busted.

I roughly clear my throat and open my top desk drawer to grab my wallet. “What are you wearing?”

She rests a hand around her hip and slides it down to the hem of her dress. “It’s a dress,” she says casually, running the cotton fabric through her fingers. “They’ve been around for, gosh, thousands of years I’d bet. I’d even argue since the origin of mankind, but who’s to say. And these…” she kicks a heel up behind her so I can see a pair of coordinating converse sneakers, “are shoes , which have also been around for thousands of years. They protect our feet. In fact, I’ll bet if you looked down, you might have a pair on as well.” She stares down at me, the sparkle in her eyes growing with each sassy comment. “Stay tuned for next week, when I teach you about forks and spoons, also known as silverware . We use those to eat.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to temper a smile. She’s so full of sass. Snarky even when most would ignore me or give me a wide berth when they know I’m crabby, or crotchety, apparently. But not Annaliese. Either she isn’t intimidated by me, or she gets off on poking the bear.

“Your hair is long.”

Her smile falters, and she immediately reaches a hand up to touch the top of her head, swiping it down as if to flatten her perfect curls. “You’ve seen me without a scrub cap plenty of times.”

“I have.” I nod in agreement. “I just haven’t seen it down before.”

It’s beautiful . That’s what the proper follow-up comment would be. You’re beautiful . I can feel the words resting right behind my teeth, begging to be said, but I hold them back. I’d be a fool not to notice how truly gorgeous Annaliese is. It isn’t in a showy, made-up sort of way, no. Her beauty comes with her dark eyes, the teasing expressions she gives, and the compassion that oozes from her comfortable stare. It’s her smile, both mysterious and playful all at once.

Her beauty is something that drew me in since day one, and it’s sparked thoughts that I shouldn’t let myself have about my boss’s, no, my mentor’s , daughter.

I watch with admiration as she tosses her hair over one shoulder, using both hands to gather it together. Her fingers work quickly as she gathers it into three sections and weaves each strand into the other, and I refuse to let myself blink so I won’t miss one second of the act. Once she secures the end with a tie, she pulls a few of the smaller strands free and they bounce around her face.

She huffs out a breath, causing those strands to fly away, only to return back to their rightful place. “Satisfied?”

I hold her gaze, the moment between us becoming more heated the longer I stare. “Never once did I say it looked bad.”

"Your face told a different story.” Her words come out a little breathless, and I wonder for a second if maybe she feels some of this same attraction that I do.

I purse my lips, nodding at her statement. “I guess that’s something I have to work on.”

***

I wait rather impatiently outside the female locker rooms while Annaliese changes into her scrubs.

We’re silent on the short walk to the coffee shop, the smell of freshly ground beans welcoming us once the elevator doors to the first floor open up. The hallway comes to life the further we walk, most of the clinic staff now arriving for their shifts.

Annaliese smiles at everyone we pass. She always does. People seem to gravitate toward her, too. I don’t know if she realizes how many people, both men and women, do a double take when she walks these halls. Or maybe she’s used to it. All I know is that while she seems to be looking around, wanting to soak in everything and meet everyone, all I can do is stare at her.

We order our coffees, and I playfully slap the top of Annaliese’s hand when she tries to pay for her own coffee. I’m not much of a romancer, but I refuse to let her pay for her own drink.

We shuffle down to the end of the counter so Annaliese can add sugar to her coffee, and I’m about to ask her why she tucks a few extra packets into the pocket of her scrub pants when a familiar voice from the other end of the shop calls out to me.

We turn in tandem, and I see Ryan walk toward us. Fuck.

I can already see the shit-eating grin forming on his face as he glances from me to Annaliese, and back again. I pin him with my stare, begging him to play this cool.

“Ryan.” I keep my tone flat as I reach out to shake his hand once he’s near. “Still here from the night or coming in early?”

Ryan turns his attention to Annaliese, smiling briefly in a hello before answering me. “Coming in early. Here to grab something for me and the wife before she heads to the clinic for the day.”

I nod along. “How is Lainey?”

A glistening look of affection fills Ryan’s eyes as he answers, just like it always does when he talks about his wife. He ventures into a story about some brilliant idea she had for some project or another related to their clinic. I listen to him, mostly, but I let my gaze fall to Annaliese, wondering what she’s thinking right now as she tentatively listens to Ryan.

Ryan and I have both worked at this hospital for our entire careers. When I was a lowly resident spending most of my nights on call, he was a hospitalist also working nights. Clipped conversations eventually grew into chats, which grew into an actual friendship. He’s a good guy, and he’s proof that love can really change a person. Ever since meeting his wife, my broody and distant friend has become this mushy, sentimental man.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan says, pausing mid-conversation to turn back to Annaliese. “My asshole friend over here hasn’t properly introduced us. I’m Ryan.” He extends a palm toward Annaliese, and she places hers in his, shaking once.

“Annaliese Keeton, nice to meet you.”

Ryan’s smile widens. “Keeton? As in Richard Keeton?” Annaliese nods at his question. “Isn’t that something.” He looks at me, and I can tell beneath the scruff of his overgrown beard that he’s biting back a smile. “And this is the resident you were telling me about … interesting.”

“Interesting?” Annaliese echos, flicking her gaze toward me. I keep my firm stare at Ryan, willing him to shut the fuck up. He snickers and raises a hand to clap me on the shoulder.

I purposefully ignore Annaliese’s questioning gaze and turn the spotlight back to Ryan. “Ryan and his wife both work here, but they recently opened up a free clinic on the other side of the city. They service the underinsured or those without health insurance. Trying to buy their way into heaven or some shit.”

Ryan barks out a laugh at my comment. “Yeah, something like that. Hey man, thanks again for volunteering with us this weekend. We wouldn’t have been able to screen everyone without your help.”

I nod while bringing my coffee to my lips for a sip so I don’t have to talk, hoping Ryan takes the hint.

Annaliese takes that opportunity to prod. “I had no idea Dr. Andrews was so big into philanthropy.” She playfully bumps me with her shoulder, and Ryan laughs.

“There’s a lot about this guy that might surprise you. We should all get together sometime. I know my wife would love to hear about what you’ve been up to in Africa, but I beg you to keep it vague, otherwise that will be her next adventure.”

Annaliese’s mouth falls open with surprise, and shit, I’ve been busted. I place a hand between her shoulder blades and usher her toward the exit. “Alright, let’s go Annaliese. We’ve already wasted half our prep time gossiping. Not all of us have the leisurely schedule that Dr. Ryan seems to have.”

Ryan barks out a laugh again then reaches both hands to clasp my shoulders as I try to turn around. “Oh Colter, you dog, you.”

“Cut your hair, caveman,” I murmur under my breath.

He reaches a hand out to shake Annaliese’s hand again. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Annaliese; I’ve heard wonderful things. Let me know if this asshole is too hard on you.” He passes both of us to go order his drinks, calling over his shoulder as he does, “And I’m serious about the two of you coming over for dinner.”

I dip my head in a nod, ushering Annaliese out of the coffee shop so fast I nearly trip. I know I brought her up once or twice when I was with Ryan, mostly complaining about having a shadow every fucking day. I might have mentioned Africa, but that was only to tell them about what brought her back to Chicago. I definitely didn’t tell him that she’s attractive, or that she can make me laugh even in my worst moods, but I should have known he’d figure things out pretty quick once he met her. The tips of my ears burn, and I quicken my steps, bypassing the elevator and reaching for the door that leads to the stairwell.

Only once we’re safely behind the closed door, do I let myself exhale. We take the steps at a leisurely pace, both sipping our coffees in silence. I think I may have been given a free pass for the day until she clears her throat and I turn, seeing that teasing sparkle back in her eye. “So … Dr. Andrews likes to volunteer in his free time … that’s a fun little surprise.”

“They scheduled a clinic for free physicals for kids.” I shrug. “They had a bigger turnout than expected and needed help, so I offered to come down for a bit. It’s not a big deal; it’s not something we need to talk about.”

She nods slowly, disbelieving anything I have to say. “You say that like you’re trying to keep it a secret. Are you worried I’ll try to convince you to come to Africa with me?”

It’s my turn to bark out a laugh as I reach to open the door that leads to the surgical wing and let her pass through first. “Don’t get your hopes up, Sparky. I’ll volunteer a few hours for a friend when I can go back to my very comfortable condo at night. You wouldn’t catch me dead sleeping in a tent with a mosquito net for a blanket.”

She rolls her eyes at my comment, but continues to prod, “I don’t buy it. There are a lot of things you can do to support a friend that don’t involve volunteer work. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say maybe you like helping out the less fortunate.”

I don’t answer while we take the final hall to my office. I sip my too hot coffee and savor the burn against my tongue. We take our designated seats, me behind my desk and her on the chair in front of it. She crosses her legs, bouncing her foot again while she sits and stares.

I drain nearly half of my coffee, knowing she won’t let this go until I have given her a solid, at least partly-true answer. And if I don’t answer her questions, she might be bold enough to ask why I told them about her.

“Their clinic is much needed in the downtown area.” I run a thumb along the seam of the cardboard cup, choosing my next words carefully. “Did you know there are about half a million people in the city who don’t have health insurance? Ryan,” I jut a thumb in the general direction we came from, “his wife has a soft spot for old people, and he has one for kids. So combined, they worked to open up this clinic to help those specific populations, or anyone really. I helped out with some financial donations to help them get started. It’s still a work in progress, and while they get their funding in order, they both continue to work full-time here. Sometimes they open on the weekend and need an extra hand. It’s not a big deal.”

The basic schedule of an attending, even one with seniority, is still grueling. We work long days and participate in a call rotation, which sometimes means surviving on little to no sleep. We work weekends and holidays because the hospital is always open. Their clinic doesn’t need a surgeon, yet, but they were blown away with how many people flock there during open hours needing help. Ryan had brought it up in a random conversation once, and I found myself offering to go help out.

I admire what they’re doing. It’s selfless and exhausting. It’s very similar to what Annaliese does, and I can see her squirming in her chair with excitement, wanting to rapid-fire more questions at me.

“Is that why you became a surgeon? To help the less fortunate?”

I cut her with a glare, and she does this exaggerated eye roll that has me grinning instead.

“Well regardless, I think that’s admirable. What you are doing, as well as what Ryan and his wife do.”

I toss my now empty cup into the trash at my side, feeling a little more alive now that the caffeine is running through my veins.

“Ryan’s a good looking guy,” she adds. “Seems nice, too.”

Hot, unbridled jealousy boils deep in my gut. Is that why she seemed excited about the clinic, at the prospect of getting to know him better? “Clean out your ears, Sparky, did you hear him talk about his wife?”

She scoffs loudly, slumping back in her chair. “My God, I said he was a good-looking guy. A lot of women are into that type of hair, the streaks of silver in with the black. So long it might need a man bun. That’s all. I didn’t say I wanted to jump his bones. I didn’t even say he’s my type.”

A little of the fury dissolves, but not enough. “Don’t let his wife hear you crushing on him. She’s a tiny little thing, a sweetheart, but she’s a kitten with claws when it comes to her man. She’d likely scratch your eyes out for looking at him twice.”

Annaliese laughs, a beautiful, freeing laugh that has a chuckle rumbling in my own chest. “I think I’ll like her, then. That’s how it should be, you know? When you marry someone, they should be your person. They should fight for you, emotionally and literally, if needed.” She takes a cautious sip of her coffee, eyes lost in thought. “I admire the way he talks about her, too. You can see how much he appreciates her. Not enough relationships are like that.”

I find myself nodding along. I often have that same thought when I’m around Ryan and his wife. He’d give up anything for her, and she’d do the same. “He respects the hell out of her, honors her, and I think that’s one of the most important parts of a relationship. What they have … it’s real.”

She fiddles with the flap of her coffee cup, moving it back and forth until she tears it clean off. “With a love like theirs, I’ll bet one day their teenage daughter won’t walk in on Ryan trying to bend a scrub nurse over a shitty kitchenette table.”

I sputter, coughing on my own saliva. I want to believe it was just a random, off-hand comment, something meant to make me laugh. But I know Richard’s history, and it’s too specific to be a joke. I clear my throat roughly, waiting for her to look up at me.

When she doesn’t, I call out to her, “Annaliese…”

She laughs awkwardly, face tilting up to the ceiling. “Whatever, sorry I made it weird. No more talking until I’ve had my coffee.” With that, she brings the cup to her lips for a long sip.

I know Richard’s first marriage ended in an affair, and I also know that affair was one of many. I haven’t asked him the details, and he never offered them. We don’t dwell on that part of his life. But to think he was arrogant enough, for one, to have multiple affairs, and then to attempt something with his daughter in the next room disgusts me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She huffs out a laugh. “Sorry I saw it, or sorry that I was the one that told my mom?”

I force out a heavy exhale as I lean back in my chair, bringing my hands up to rake through the sides of my hair. “Both. You know that it wasn’t right. It shouldn’t have happened, and definitely shouldn’t have happened like that.” She nods, but her gaze doesn’t meet my eye. I’ve already grown to respect Annaliese, first as a colleague, and even more as a person. “What you did took guts, I hope you know that.” She was the one that had to sever the first tie in her relationship with her father, and from what I can tell, she’s felt like shit ever since. “I agree though,” I tell her, circling back to our earlier conversation. “A love like Ryan and Lainey’s won’t experience that. A real man would never step out on his wife.”

My eyes flick up to Annaliese, waiting for her to pounce on my comment and tease me for getting mushy. Her eyes are on mine, and while we stare off, a mutual understanding passes between us. She doesn’t know it, but she and I were raised in completely different worlds. Yet somehow, we seemed to grow up with similar convictions.

I pull Annaliese’s schedule for the next week out of my bag and slide it across the desk to her.

“What does my dad think about the free clinic?” she asks, swiftly changing the conversation.

I pull my hand back to open my laptop and power it on. My eyes flick to the screen, tallying the time we have left before we have to scrub in. Richard doesn’t know about Ryan and Lainey’s clinic. If he does, he’s never brought it up. He’s taught me a lot over the years, both about surgical life and some regarding business, but to quote his exact words, “it’s foolish to work for free.”

“He doesn’t need to know what I do on my days off.”

“Hasn’t he ever asked?”

Her words are a punch straight to my gut. One she likely doesn’t realize she’s hit. I hide the flinch well these days, but that overall sting is still the same. No, he’s never asked what I do on my days off. He doesn’t ask about my personal life outside of our time together. I’ve created a life where most people don’t ask about me, and I thought I preferred it that way.

Then Annaliese came along, and she asks me everything. It should annoy me.

But it’s worse than that, I like that she asks. I like it a lot.