17. Youre beautiful even when youre disheveled.
Waking up was a slow, hazy transition from the sound of rain in my dreams to the rhythmic thrum of a heartbeat against my ear.
For a few seconds, I was suspended in that sweet, liminal space where reality hadn't quite settled in. The world was warm, smelled of sandalwood and expensive cotton, and felt safer than my own bed had in years.
I let out a soft, contented sigh, snuggling deeper into the heat.
Then, my hand moved. It was resting flat against a firm, muscular chest, my fingers curled slightly into the fabric of a dress shirt that was definitely not my own.
My eyes snapped open.
The interior of the car was bathed in the pale, cool light of dawn. The storm had passed, leaving behind a world that felt scrubbed clean and unnaturally quiet. But it was the position I was in that made my breath hitch.
I wasn't just leaning on Daxton; I was practically draped over him.
My legs were tangled with his beneath the blanket, and his arms were locked around me, his hands resting heavily on the small of my back.
He had shifted in his sleep, his head now resting against the window pane, while I was tucked firmly into the crook of his neck.
I went still, my heart starting a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I should move. I should slowly untangle myself and pretend this was a perfectly professional nap.
Just then, Daxton stirred.
A low, gravelly groan vibrated through his chest—a sound so raw and masculine it sent a shiver straight down my spine. His grip on my waist tightened instinctively, pulling me closer instead of letting go.
"Five more minutes." He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his breath warm against the top of my head.
My heart thudded violently against my rib cage. "D-Daxton... um... I— I need to go to the hospital."
I felt him stiffen as consciousness flooded back.
He went motionless for a heartbeat, and then he slowly pulled his head back to look down at me.
His hair, usually styled to perfection, was tousled and falling over his forehead.
His gaze was soft, hooded, and heavy with a vulnerability that made my throat tight.
"Ayra." He rasped, his gaze scanning my face as if making sure I was real.
"Good morning." I said, trying for casual and failing miserably as my cheeks burned a bright crimson. I made a move to sit up, but his hand stayed firm on my back, anchoring me.
"Don't," he said, the command softened by the slight smile playing on his lips. "You look... different in the morning light."
"Disheveled is the word you're looking for." I joked, nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. "You're beautiful even when you're disheveled."
I blushed. "Right."
He locked eyes with me, bringing his face closer as his thumb caressed my cheek gently. I sat frozen, caught up in a spell, as his gaze dropped momentarily to my lips.
Everything felt utterly static. The only sound I could hear was of my own heartbeat, loud and insistent in my ears.
He leaned in closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving me every chance to pull away. I didn't. I leaned forward, my eyes fluttering shut, my breath hitching as I felt the warmth of his lips just a fraction of an inch from mine.
Nothing else in the world seemed to exist.
Until, my ringtone blared in the comforting silence, brutally shattering the spell we were under.
We pulled away instantly, caught off guard.
Daxton ran a hand through his hair as if attempting to hide his disappointment, while I awkwardly cleared my throat and moved out of his embrace.
The warmth, the comforting feeling, all of it vanished in an instant.
"Hello?" I answered my phone.
"Dr. Ayra, we need you here as soon as possible. We've got a massive pile-up on the interstate due to the flooding. Multiple trauma cases, two expectant mothers in distress. We need every hand on deck."
"Okay, I'll be there in a bit." I replied, hanging up before turning to Daxton. "I need to get to the hospital."
He nodded immediately, climbing into the driver's seat. He didn't complain. Didn't waste time. Just understood immediately how important it was for me to go.
The drive was a blur of wet asphalt and Daxton's focused silence. He navigated the debris-strewn streets with a terrifyingly calm efficiency. When the hospital entrance loomed into view, swarming with ambulances and flashing lights, he skidded to a halt at the curb.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, but before I could open the door, his hand shot out, catching my wrist.
"Ayra." He said, his voice firm.
I turned back. He reached into the dashboard and pulled out a small, metallic object—a sleek, high-tech key fob.
"This is linked to an encrypted emergency line. If that man—or anyone else—comes near you, you press the center button. It pings my personal security team and me directly. Do you understand?"
I looked at the device, then at him. "Daxton, I—"
"Take it," he insisted, his eyes dark with a protective intensity that sent a different kind of shiver through me. "I can't be there while you're saving lives. Let me at least know you're safe."
I took it, my fingers brushing his one last time. "Thank you."
I jumped out of the car and sprinted toward the sliding glass doors, the weight of the device in my pocket and the ghost of his touch on my skin. I didn't look back, but I felt his gaze on me until the doors hissed shut.
By the time the clock on the wall blinked 8:07 p.m., my feet felt like jelly. I hadn't sat for more than two minutes the entire day. The patient flow was insanely immense, as was the influx of emergencies.
I peeled my gloves off with stiff fingers, dropped them into the bin, and leaned back against the counter for a minute. The ward was finally quieter, the chaos settled.
I felt lightheaded, having not eaten for twelve hours.
"Dr. Ayra?"
I turned to see one of the junior nurses hovering near the desk, an apologetic smile on her face. "You've got... um. A visitor."
I blinked. "A what?"
"In the lobby. I was told to let you know."
I nodded slowly, wondering who could have come to see me.
After drinking a glass of water, I loosened my bun and ran my fingers through my hair to ease the tension in my scalp, before heading for the lobby.
When I made it to the lobby, my steps slowed, heart beating erratically as I realised who the visitor was.
Daxton.
He stood leaning against a wall, wearing a pale blue dress shirt, one hand shoved into the pocket of his black tailored pants, the other holding a bag. His hair fell in waves over his forehead like he had been running his fingers through it all day.
The moment his eyes found mine, the unnamed connection we had, instantly sparked. Relief crossed his face, subtle but unmistakably there.
His eyes scanned me from head to toe before settling on my face. "Ayra."
"Daxton." I breathed out.
He held the bag up. "It didn't matter which meeting room I was in today, all I could think in the back of my mind was if you'd eaten or not."
I uttered a small laugh, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. "You brought me food?"
He smiled. "I hope you like Chinese."
I uttered another short laugh, excited. "I love Chinese!"
"Perfect."
"I'm famished," I admitted. "I haven't eaten all day, so this is... the grandest gesture ever for me right now."
His smile grew. "Come with me."
My lips parted. "I have to stay at the hospital tonight. I have a night shift."
"Oh."
I hesitated for a second before reaching out to grab his hand. He eyes flicked to mine instantly, alight with surprise and something else. Then, his fingers curled around mine, warm and steady.
I led him down the corridor, and he followed me quietly, without question or reluctance.
The doctor's room was tucked away at the end of a rarely used corridor—dim lights, a single couch, a small table no one ever bothered with. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and something clean and neutral.
I closed the door behind us, leaning back against it for a moment, suddenly very aware of how alone we were.
Daxton set the bag down carefully, like it was precious.
"You good?" He asked softly.
I nodded, pushing myself off the door. "Just... tired."
He opened the containers, the smell instantly filling the room. My stomach clenched painfully this time.
"Oh my God." I breathed.
He handed me a fork. "Sit."
I took it, perching on the couch, knees tucked up, and took my first bite like it might disappear if I didn't hurry.
I uttered a dreamy sigh as the flavours flooded my taste buds.
Daxton chuckled, sitting beside me. "You sound like that was life-changing."
"I might cry," I said around a mouthful. "This is incredible."
He watched me eat with a small smile. "I've never enjoyed watching someone demolish noodles this much."
I laughed, giving him a playful eye roll. "Don't ruin this for me."
He held his hands up in surrender.
We ate in a comfortable silence, the air charged with a feeling of intimacy that could not be denied.
My heart fluttered as he offered me the last dumpling.
"Thank you for this, really." I said gratefully.
"How about you drop the formalities with me?" He suggested, before bringing a spring roll to my mouth.
Heat crept up my neck as I took a bite.
When we were done eating, I watched him shove the empty containers back inside the bag, ready to discard.
I felt exhaustion creep in.
"How was your day?" I asked, stifling a yawn.
He eyed me carefully. "It was fine. A lot of meetings."
I nodded, resting my head on the backrest of the couch.
"You're fading." He murmured.
"Am not." I mumbled, eyelids drooping.
He smiled, soft and fond. "You absolutely are."
I shifted, my head tipping sideways before I could stop it, until it landed against his shoulder.
I froze.
He didn't move. Didn't tense. Just... adjusted slightly, making it easier for me to rest there.
"Do you mind if I use your shoulder?" I mumbled sleepily.
His voice was gentle and soothing as he responded. "You can use me however you please."
I relaxed, my body sinking into his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding me.
His arm came up slowly, giving me time to pull away.
I didn't.
His hand rested at my upper arm, thumb warm through the fabric of my scrubs.
"You don't have to stay." I murmured, already half asleep.
"I know." He said, voice low.
"You could go home."
"I could." He agreed.
My eyes fluttered closed. "You won't, though."
"No." He replied in a beat.
The last thing I registered before sleep claimed me was the way he tilted his head, resting it lightly against mine, like staying was the most natural decision he'd made all day.