10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Paige blinked up at the sterile white ceiling, the rhythmic beep of the monitors blending with the low hum of the hospital room.
A muted rerun of Jerry Springer played on the TV in the corner, the audience’s exaggerated reactions making up for the lack of sound.
Even without hearing it, she knew it was only a matter of time before someone threw a chair or security stormed the stage.
“You should be the one laying in this bed,” she said, shifting her gaze to Ethan. He sat in a stiff plastic chair against the wall, two butterfly bandages stretched across his forehead.
“I’m fine,” he replied, shaking his head. “You’re the one who fainted.”
She let out a breath, disgusted at her stupid fainting display.
“Has that happened to you before?” Ethan asked, sounding concerned.
Paige turned her attention back to the TV, cursing her body’s betrayal.
Blood . Her ultimate Achilles’ heel. She’d known the second she saw Ethan’s head wound that she was going down.
Sometimes, if she squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, and focused on something—anything—else, she could fight it off. But not this time.
“A few times,” she admitted, downplaying the mortifying truth. Her doctor had called it a phobia, said her fear triggered a sudden drop in blood pressure, causing the fainting. Paige called it a weakness. Blood had the power to make her collapse like a deflating balloon.
Ethan chuckled, startling her out of her thoughts.
She snapped her head toward him and scowled. He was smiling—like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said, his amusement fading when he registered her expression. He held up a hand. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just—your books have murders in them. You write about blood all the time. I wouldn’t have guessed it would affect you like that.”
Paige folded her hands over her stomach, feeling absurdly like a corpse in a casket. “Writing about blood and seeing blood are two different things.” With a sigh, she added, “And you really whacked your head. I can’t believe you didn’t need stitches.”
Her gaze flicked to the butterfly bandages again, guilt twisting inside her. If she hadn’t been so utterly distracted by Ethan’s ridiculously kissable lips, she might’ve noticed the low-hanging metal sign and warned him. Instead, she’d walked him straight into it.
But how could she have been paying attention to anything else when she’d been so caught up in the moment?
At first, she’d leaned into his embrace purely for research, just to understand the feeling, the chemistry, the mechanics of attraction, so she could write it more convincingly.
That was the plan. Just a little fact-finding mission.
But then Ethan had looked at her—really looked at her. Had he smoldered? The world had gone hazy around the edges. His touch had been warm, grounding, and when her gaze dipped to his lips, she hadn’t been thinking about character motivation or scene beats. She’d been thinking about kissing him.
And she probably would have—if it weren’t for the ill-placed street sign and Ethan’s unfortunate collision.
Which, in hindsight, was either a blessing or a tragedy. Because, if she was being honest with herself . . . she had a strong suspicion she would’ve enjoyed the kiss. Maybe too much.
“You really scared me,” Ethan admitted. “I wasn’t sure what happened.”
“I know,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” His voice softened. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Paige grinned. That was sweet. He was hurt, yet he was worried about her.
“I’m okay,” she amended. “But I am sorry you slammed your head into a street sign, and I didn’t stop you.”
Ethan let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I did that.”
She hummed in agreement. Knowing her luck, someone had caught the whole fiasco on video. Instead of the public image they were trying to create, the next viral post would be about Ethan’s head injury. Probably with a clickbait headline like Bestselling Author’s Face Ruined—Will He Ever Write Again?
But the cut was bad.
It was the only reason she’d agreed to come to the ER.
Ethan had insisted after she fainted—twice.
Paige knew she was fine, even after passing out a second time.
This had happened before. She just needed to sit for a minute, take a few deep breaths, and not look at blood.
But Ethan? She was sure he needed stitches. So she’d agreed. For him.
And she really hoped a certain Dr. Han wasn’t on shift today. So far, so good.
“I went to medical school,” she blurted out, staring at the ceiling.
“What?” Ethan barked. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Made it through one year.”
“Why?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.
Paige hesitated, her fingers twitching against the scratchy hospital blanket.
She didn’t talk about this. Not really. Not to anyone outside of Gigi and Alice.
Maybe it was the leftover dizziness. Or the way Ethan had taken charge, taking care of her.
It went against her fierce independence, but deep down, she liked it.
It was nice to have someone watch out for her.
Either way, the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“I always wanted to be a writer.” She whispered it, like an old truth she wasn’t sure she could claim.
Ethan, who had been watching her like she might keel over again, straightened. “Then how’d you end up in medical school?”
She let out a breath, tilting her head back against the pillow.
“My parents are both surgeons, and I’m an only child.
It was never really a choice. It was just .
. . expected that I’d do the same.” She glanced at Ethan, waiting for the inevitable judgment.
But he was just watching her, unreadable.
So she kept going. “I did the whole pre-med thing, got accepted into a great program, and convinced myself I could do it. But toward the end of my first year, I started fainting. Every time I saw blood, my body just . . . shut down.”
Ethan’s brows pulled together, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” she said quickly.
“But I don’t think it was just about the blood.
It was the panic. The realization that I might be stuck in a life I had no passion for, that I was doing all of it for them and not for me.
” She exhaled, remembering the gnawing dread that had lived in her chest back then, the slow suffocation of a future she didn’t want. “So, I quit.”
Ethan leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands. “And your parents didn’t take it well?”
She laughed loudly, as if he’d just dropped the funniest joke. But there was understanding in his question, and it urged her to continue. “Understatement of the century. They were devastated. Ashamed. I was supposed to carry on the Moon family legacy, not throw it away to write stories.”
The soft blue of Ethan’s gaze simmered. “They should’ve never put that pressure on you.”
Paige shrugged. “I guess everyone does have their own baggage,” she replied, referencing what Ethan had said earlier, and trying to brush away past pain. Even though her baggage was heavy.
Quitting medical school had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, walking away from her family’s approval, their carefully laid-out plan for her life.
She’d taken some training and gotten a job as a copy editor to pay rent.
She wrote for herself at night, stealing moments before work, on her lunch break, whenever she could.
She’d worked extremely hard to achieve her dreams and secure a book deal.
And along the way, Derek happened.
“I think that’s why I stayed with my ex for so long,” she admitted, catching the surprise on Ethan’s face.
She surprised herself by divulging so much information.
“He was a doctor—exactly the kind of person my parents wanted me to be . . . or apparently, be with. Dating him seemed to placate them, at least a little.”
Ethan’s expression darkened slightly. “You dated someone to please your parents?”
“I mean,” Paige started, thinking about his question. “I didn’t know I was doing that at first. But, looking back on our relationship, I think that’s why I stayed with him for so long.”
“How long were you together?”
“Ten years.” She said it flatly, the weight of it still ridiculous even now. “We were engaged, actually. For the last year.”
His brows shot up. “Wow.”
Paige sighed. “We weren’t right for each other. Derek was a good guy. At least, at first. But he was obsessed with his job. The hospital came first, always. It was like I just became another task on his to-do list.” She shook her head. “Eventually, we called it off.”
Ethan studied her for a long beat. “And your family supported you in the split?” His question was tentative, like he was afraid of the answer.
She let out a sharp chuckle. “Oh, no. My mom still asks me why we don’t get back together. In fact, my parents still invite him to family dinners. This last Thanksgiving, my father carved the turkey while chatting with my ex-fiancé about his latest procedure. It’s really weird.”
Ethan’s mouth opened in shock. “Ouch. That’s messed up.”
She turned her head toward him, absorbing the understanding in his eyes. For whatever reason, he got it. Maybe he even got her. “That’s why I killed off Hans.”
His brows pulled together. “Hans? With the margarita explosion?”
Paige nodded. “When I created him, he was based on my ex. Readers loved him. But after the breakup, writing about him was torture. Especially since my heroine was supposed to be madly in love with him. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Realization dawned on Ethan’s face. “Oh, wow. You killed off that character because he reminded you of your ex?”
She lifted her shoulder. “Yeah.”
Ethan let out a stunned laugh. “That’s incredible. ”