Chapter 11
GRANT
My apartment smells like coconut when I walk in, probably from some smoothie Adam made, and the scent reminds me of Kendall.
She wears this tropical-smelling lotion that might have succeeded in rewiring my brain, because even though I was calmer on the way home, I’m hit with a bolt of lust so powerful I almost shut my eyes against it.
My place is empty. I march straight to the shower, telling myself I want to wash off the grime of the day, but I know what I intend to do. I’m shaking with need. I shuck my clothing and set the shower temperature to a steamier setting than usual. I’ll perish if I don’t indulge myself.
I’m just about to hop in when my phone chimes. I look down to see Kendall’s number—I saved it in my phone—and my eyes widen.
Kendall
One more request. If I’m allowed to make another.
My heart gallops in my chest.
Me
Of course. What’s that?
Kendall
No taking care of yourself yet, if you know what I mean. I want you to squirm a little longer.
Kendall
If I have any say, that is
I hang my head and chuckle. This woman. She’s the boldest person I’ve ever met.
Me
Okay.
Kendall
Wow. Can’t believe you agreed to that
I chuckle again and it morphs into a frustrated groan. Because I have one particular fantasy on my mind, and it involves a certain nurse wearing her glasses and telling me I’ve been bad.
I had no idea that would do anything for me, but here we are.
Other scenes shuffle through my mind, too, repeating in a rotating carousel of real instances and fevered imaginings.
Kendall’s beautiful face staring at me in challenge.
Her body on display in that sparkly dress.
Her dazzling mind. That voice, so sultry and gorgeous I want to wrap myself in it.
Our kiss, so unexpected, and the hottest moment of my life.
And then: bringing her back here to strip her out of her scrubs and put my hands, my tongue all over her body. I want it so much I’m faint with it.
Instead, I turn the shower a little colder and yelp when I hop in. I’ll do what she says. Maybe there’s some kind of redemption here, but I’m not sure. There’s no way I can ever truly redeem myself.
I dry off, dress myself, and fix a sad-looking salad with wilting lettuce and the spoonful of what remains in a bottle of dressing. I settle into the recliner in the living room.
The door to the apartment opens and Adams waltzes in just as I’m dissolving into self-loathing. We’re usually ships passing in the night, but of course he would come home now, when I’m lower than I’ve ever been.
“Hey,” he says. He walks into the living room. When he sees my face, his brow furrows. “You okay?”
“Um.” I hesitate. We don’t usually discuss serious topics, but I need someone to talk to. “No, actually. I’m really not.” I set my salad on our wooden coffee table.
He sits across from me on the couch. I witness what must be his bedside manner as a physician: open, sympathetic expression and steady eye contact.
I bet his patients really love him. He lets his backpack fall to the floor and leans forward so that his elbows are on his knees.
He smells like the hospital, I note: a combination of antiseptic, perspiration, and nitrile gloves.
“You know how I work with that nurse who doesn’t like me? And I wasn’t sure why?” My fingers dig into the leather arm of the recliner.
“Yeah, I remember our conversation about it. Did you figure out what’s wrong?”
I rake a palm across my jaw and look out our window. It’s still light out, and a kid glides down the sidewalk on a skateboard. I look at Adam again.
“I went to high school with her.” I inhale, thinking I might as well rip the Band-Aid off.
“That’s why she hates me. I, uh, bullied her when we were teenagers.
” That word, bully, still makes me cringe.
“I honestly made her life hell some of the time. I know that’s horrible, and I was shitty for it.
I don’t know how else to say it. And I’ve felt awful about it for years, but her being in my life again is a mindfuck. I don’t know how to handle it.”
Adam’s staring at me. A little divot forms between his brows.
The kids outside shout about something, and the dishwasher rumbles in the kitchen, but Adam still hasn’t made a sound.
I wonder what he’s thinking, if he’ll hate me for this.
He should, probably. Sometimes I don’t feel like I deserve to be a doctor, what with the way I treated people, especially Kendall.
He finally speaks. “You didn’t recognize her?”
“No. She’s changed a lot physically, and it’s been a decade.
I should have, though. I didn’t expect to run into her again.
I apologized. I probably should have done that years ago, but I honestly thought it would have been selfish to seek her out just to make myself feel better.
But given the situation, I kinda had to. ”
Adam’s quiet again. He sits back on the couch, an old hand-me-down from my grandmother that makes a creaking noise when you lean back on it. My stomach twists while I wait for him to speak.
“Okay,” he says. “You’re right, that’s pretty shitty.
I’ll be honest and say I’m surprised. And disappointed, if you’ll forgive me sounding like a parent.
You’ve bettered yourself since then, though.
I’m a decent judge of character, and I can vouch for you, at least now.
” He taps his chin. “Maybe you can just get through your rotation and move on. In the meantime, I would be pleasant with her and just stay out of her way.”
I wince. “So I shouldn’t, like, try and start something with her, for example?”
Adam lets out a burst of laughter, though it seems more like shock than actual amusement. “Fuck no,” he says. “Why would you think that’s a good idea?”
I push my head against the back of the recliner and gaze at the crown molding in our apartment, just so I don’t have to keep making eye contact with Adam.
“I know. She’s just gorgeous and brilliant.
And I’m the biggest asshole there ever was.
I can only hope she didn’t need years of therapy after high school. ”
“Yeah, one can hope.” He stares at me again. A piece of hair comes loose from his ponytail when he scratches his head. He’s growing his hair out to donate it, I think, which is just the sort of guy he is. “Sounds like you might have needed it too.”
“Oh, I did. Spent thousands of dollars on it. It doesn’t change how I treated her, though.”
“Well, it sounds like you feel genuine remorse. And for what it’s worth, I really do think you are a good person now. But for God’s sake, leave the woman alone.”
I nod. “Yeah. Thank you. I needed to hear that.” I drop my head. “I worried about what you would think. I’ve made a lot of strides, but sometimes I’m not sure I deserve all I’ve got now.”
I look up at him again and he shrugs. “You don’t deserve one-hundred-hour work weeks and sleep deprivation?”
I laugh. “Point taken.”
“I don’t know, man. People behave terribly as high schoolers sometimes. You didn’t keep doing that, so I’d say you’re on the right track.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Is he right? Teenagers are notoriously stupid, after all.
My phone rings as I walk back to my bedroom. For one wild second, I think it might be Kendall.
I sigh when I see the caller. I’ve already ignored one call from her.
“Mom?” I tap the button for the speaker.
“Hi, hon.” Her thick twang pours down the phone line. My parents are probably the wealthiest people in one of the poorest counties in the US—we always had shiny cars, a manicured lawn, and working appliances—but even they have the thick accent. “Thought you might still be mad at me.”
“I’m not angry anymore,” I say. “As long as you aren’t calling to tell me I should date Rachel. Or move back home.”
She produces an indignant huff. “Well, Rachel’s mama said she’s dating another lawyer now, anyway. And I don’t see what’s wrong with being back here.”
“Mom—”
“I know, I know. I’ll let it lie.”
“I did run into someone from high school, actually,” I say carefully. Mom knows that not everyone was an admirer of mine back home, though she doesn’t know the extent of what I was like. “You remember Kenzie Amburgey?”
I can almost hear my mom’s wheels spinning.
“I think so,” she says, a hint of distaste coloring her words even though she tries to hide it.
My stomach burns with irritation as she continues.
“I know her brother was in that awful accident, poor thing. But I heard he does taxes now.” She pauses. “Didn’t their daddy run off?”
“I think so,” I say, gritting my teeth. “And yeah, her brother went back to school after the accident. She’s a nurse. She works in the ortho clinic where I’m doing my rotation.”
“Oh, I see. Well good for her, then.”
My stomach sours. I get the feeling Mom wouldn’t care if Kendall had climbed all the way to millionaire status. It wouldn’t change how she sees her family.
“I gotta go, Mom.”
“But I didn’t get to ask you about your mamaw’s eighty-fifth birthday. It’s coming up in a couple months and we’re having a big party.”
“I’ll be there,” I say. “I have to go now, though.”
She starts to protest, but I make an excuse, wanting to quell my burning ire before I say something ugly.
I press my fists to my eyes. No wonder Kendall hates me so much.
Kendall stops me in the hall before our first surgical case.
Her hair’s braided again, a style she seems to like, and God help me, I want it wrapped around my wrist. She also wears her glasses instead of her contacts again, and that along with the hairstyle is proving to be a powerful combo. I practically salivate.
I think of Adam’s words. Leave the woman alone. Even though she did ask to kiss me, and I would oblige if she asked me for anything, I need to remember what he said. It’s difficult, though, when she’s been on my mind for days. Weeks, really.
“You really went and bought me that dress,” she says, eyes wide. Her lashes curl up toward her brows, long and thick. Her beauty strikes me every time I see her.
“You sent me the link and your size,” I say, discreetly scanning her figure. I can imagine it on her, how it would look with her long legs showing.
“Yes, but I was mostly kidding.”
“Were you?”
She scoffs. “Okay, I was goading you a little. I didn’t think you would actually go and do it.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous. Fuck you.”
I laugh, and it echoes around the empty hall. “You’re welcome. It is literally the least I could do. I meant what I said about making things up to you.”
“You can’t just buy things for me and expect me to forgive you. I mean sure, that’s fun and all, but I have more pride than that.”
“I know.”
She scoffs.
A bit later, I listen as she questions Dr. Planck about our surgery, another knee replacement.
“How do you deal with someone who has a knee flexion contracture like that?” She nods toward the patient.
“Ah.” Dr. Planck talks as we work. “We can usually correct it here in mild cases like this. We can resect the femur by a couple more milliliters distally. And we can remove the larger osteophytes from the posterior compartment.”
She watches him. I sneak a few glances at her, but she only has eyes for our procedure. Her curiosity about everything intrigues me. I remember how brilliant she was in high school—she outperformed me, even with the disadvantages she faced—and the fact she still loves learning seems natural.
“It takes a lot of upper body strength,” George says, making a show of looking Kendall up and down. He’s assisting with this surgery. “These joint replacements.”
God, I hate that guy. I’ve hated him since the start of residency. He reminds me of the worst parts of myself.
“I’m not going into ortho,” is all Kendall says.
I find her in the hallway again after we’re done. I shouldn’t do this, Adam’s right, but I need to talk to her. I glance each direction to make sure we’re alone, then tug her into the closet where we keep the linens. Rows of sheets, pillowcases, and pads surround us.
“What are you doing?” she hisses it at me.
“I’m sorry.” I stare at her. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“And you needed to tell me this in the closet?”
“I know! I can’t figure out what I’m doing.” I carve my hands through my hair. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Well, I was going to get a snack. Now I’m going to be hungry, you dick.” She backs up a little but ends up bumping into a metal cart full of cleaning agents. I steady her, but she twists away.
“Are we back to being just polite coworkers again?”
“We aren’t anything!” She glances at the closed door. The dim lighting paints shadows over her already angry expression. “And keep your voice down.”
My shoulders slump. “You haven’t thought about me at all?”
“I’ve pictured your public humiliation a few times since I last saw you,” she says. Her shoulders pull back as she straightens.
“What else can I do?” I’ve never begged anyone for anything before, but I’m about to do it. If she won’t kiss me again, that’s fine, but I’m prepared to do anything she wants if it will keep making her feel better. Anything at all.
She pulls closer to me, and my breath stalls. She smells a little like coconut again and I want to bury my face in her neck.
“This is interesting,” she says. “Here’s what I think. You haven’t been good enough yet. You have a long way to go.”
“I know. I’m trying.”
“And I’m not going to fuck you, so you can get that out of your head.”
I shudder. God, why does that make me want her even more?
“At the reunion, you told me you hadn’t apologized because it would have been more for you than for me. Now you’re seeking absolution? What changed?”
I shake my head. “Not absolution. I can’t achieve that, I know. But the least I can do is help make your life better.” I step toward her, crowding her a little, and she doesn’t back away. I’ve lost my goddamn mind. “Plus, I meant it when I said I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She lays a hand on my chest. My heart pounds against my ribcage. She pitches forward a little, raising up to her toes so she can put her lips next to my ear. I suppress another shiver.
“Whatever I want?”
I gulp, then nod. “Anything. I swear.”
Her lips graze the shell of my ear. I’m half hard and spending too much time in here when I have things to do, but I can’t stop.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” she whispers.
Then she wrenches the door open and stomps out.