16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Colter
I ’m standing outside Richard’s office before he even arrives come Monday morning.
With two cups of coffee already in my system, I have yet to work off the nervous energy that’s filtering through my veins.
Maybe nervous isn’t the right word for how I feel.
I’ve been confused. Irritated as hell. Questioning nearly everything I know about the man who at one point I referred to as my savior. Richard has been a constant in my life since I was Annaliese’s age, and he’s always teaching, always guiding, and always pushing me. He’s the reason I have what I have.
But hearing their relationship from Annaliese’s perspective has me piecing together a different story. And it’s one I don’t fucking like.
“You’re here early,” Richard calls out to me as soon as he turns the corner to the hall of offices, and I push off of the wall the moment he pulls his keys from his pocket.
“I am. Had a few things I wanted to run through with you first thing.”
Richard is a smart man, and what he hears and sees has him hesitating as he slowly unlocks his door. He reaches to flip on the light, gesturing for me to go first.
I pull out a chair from the front of his desk to sit and cross an ankle over my opposite knee, bouncing it erratically.
I let Richard take his time settling in, watching with anticipation as he removes files from his briefcase and stacks them neatly in the center of his desk. He hangs his coat on the mahogany coat rack behind him before unbuttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt. He flips the cuff up and folds it over, his movements meticulous and measured.
He lets me sweat in silence as he takes his time, the only sound is the fabric of my scrubs rustling as my leg continues to bounce.
Once he sits down at his desk, he fires up his computer and finally looks at me. “What’s got you so wound up this morning?”
I inhale sharply through my nose, feeling my nostrils flare. I drop my leg so both feet are flat on the floor and I lean over with my elbows resting on my thighs. “Why didn’t you tell me Annaliese was a diabetic?”
I pose it less as a question and more as a fuck-you statement. Richard’s movements stutter, just for a second, before finally pausing his set-up. He leans back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I didn’t think it was applicable to her job here.”
Her health is going to be intertwined with her job, no matter where she works or what she does with her life. I learned a lot over this weekend with Annaliese staying at my place. I learned a lot about the woman she’s become. This beautiful, kind soul who lives to help others. A woman who still has a little girl inside of her, begging for her father’s approval while simultaneously questioning their relationship. A woman with a chronic illness that she works so hard to keep in line, while shaming herself into hiding it.
A woman who went from being my boss’s distant daughter, to an annoying assignment, to a coworker, to someone I want to call a friend. There’s something else brewing inside me too, something that speaks to the warm-blooded male in me. I’ve grown to care about Annaliese in a way I haven’t felt before, in a way I didn’t think I’d ever feel. But I felt it before this weekend; I felt it before I pulled strings and called in favors to get her in on the transplant case with Dr. Anderson. It initially hit me on the day of our first surgery, when I had told her she was only watching. One look at her standing so far away from the table that she couldn’t see what was going on had my heart thumping heavy in my chest.
And after living through the fear of losing her, of seeing her suffering and needing help, my feelings have morphed into something a hell of a lot stronger.
Something that I can’t ever let her dad know about.
“I’d argue that any chronic illness is applicable to someone’s job since it’s not something that’s completely within her control.”
His brows raise slightly. “Did something happen to her?”
My heart thuds in my chest as I ponder his words, wondering how genuine they are.
I want to tell him about the last three days. I want to tell him how I slept on the couch with her each night because she was scared to be alone. A guest bedroom in someone else’s home was too open for her, too isolating. It conjured up memories of a child alone in a cold hospital room, and she felt vulnerable.
I want to tell him that I woke twice in the middle of that first night to the sound of her rushing to the bathroom, where she would hunch over my toilet and vomit up everything she ate. And that I held her hair away from her face and rubbed her back until she stopped sobbing. That she even fell asleep curled up in front of the toilet once, with her head propped against my thigh while I slept with my back leaning up against the vanity so I didn’t have to wake her. Mostly, I want him to feel something akin to guilt for the way he’s let their relationship falter, but Annaliese made it clear she didn’t want him knowing. And if I told him I was with her day and night for the last three days, he’d likely have more questions for me that I’m not ready to answer yet.
“No. I just noticed her sensor peeking out from her scrub sleeve.” Not a complete lie.
Richard nods in understanding, pausing for only another second before leaning forward and opening the first file on his desk. “Good. I don’t want her running around the hospital acting like a baby.”
I can’t help but let my jaw fall open. I wasn’t sure what to expect from Richard, but I expected a hell of a lot more compassion than he’s giving.
“Care to elaborate on that?”
He senses the tone behind my words, and his head ticks up. His face hardens; his stoned expression hard to decipher.
“Because from the time I’ve spent with her,” I say, drawing my words out. “I’d say she’s anything but a baby. It sounds like maybe you don’t know your daughter as well as you think.”
“Watch your tongue, Colt,” Richard bites out.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in the chair to meet his gaze. We stare off at one another, the tension thickening around us. I wouldn’t call myself a fighter, most of the time I’m too apathetic to care about much, but it’s different with Annaliese. She’s stuck to me, embedded so deep between my ribs that I feel her with each breath I take.
A tentative knock on the door breaks our stand-off, and when I see Richard’s expression go from sour to a practiced smile, I twist in my chair to see Annaliese walk into the room.
I dropped her off at her apartment an hour ago, but I still breathe a sigh of relief to see her standing in front of me. She’s freshly showered; her dark curls are still damp and the scent of coconut follows her through the room. The color came back to her cheeks yesterday evening, and even though she was feeling fine and could have gone back to her apartment, there wasn’t one part of me that wanted her to leave.
I made us dinner and we watched a 90s action movie lying on opposite ends of the couch. Our feet became tangled up in one another, and I told myself it was because she needed the warmth.
“Sorry if I’m interrupting, I just wanted to let Dr. Andrews know that our first case got bumped up a half hour.”
I rise from my chair, ready to leave when Richard stands at the same time. He holds his arms out as a half-forced smile crosses his face. “Come here, Princess. Your dad could use a hug.”
I watch Annaliese school her expression at the awful nickname, hoping that I’m able to mask mine just the same. I want so badly to rip Richard a new one and dare him to continue to use that nickname in front of me now that I know the meaning behind it. What that must feel like for Annaliese, to feel a little pinprick to her heart each time he uses it. She walks over to her dad, leaning forward to give him a hug and a pat on the shoulder.
He pulls back, holding her out to look at her with both hands on her shoulders. “Look at my little Princess, all grown up.”
She plasters on a fake smile when she pulls back, her arms coming to rest on his. “Do you want to go to dinner tonight, Dad? We haven’t really had time to talk since I’ve been back.”
“That’d be wonderful, but I’m sure you’re on-call, are you not?”
His gaze briefly flicks to me, and Annaliese follows with a worried look.
I clear my throat coolly. “No, she’s not. I’m making changes to the on-call schedule. Ones that’ll make for a more effective workflow.” Changes that’ll have her working an appropriate schedule just like every other resident that walks these halls.
I can see Richard’s jaw tighten, and I clench the arms of my chair, willing myself not to stand and shout from the rooftops at him. She’s fucking trying, Richard , I want to bellow. Give her something, anything, that shows you love her.
He pulls her in for another quick hug, and when he has her in his embrace, his eyes fall to me, and a silent warning crosses his face. If he could, I think Richard would send me away with a verbal warning, reminding me of the line etched in the sand and the one goal he’s set for me. He’s not a fool, he knows that something’s changed, he just doesn’t know what.