“Why thefuckwould you go back there, Wren?” His voice was loud with outrage. “That fucking place burned you out. Worse, that fucking place broke your goddamnheart. And don’t bother denying it, because that would be a lie, and you don’t lie to me.”
She didn’t. Even when she probably should.
It would be extremely convenient to lie to him now, for instance, and tell him how excited she’d be to return to the hospital.
For literal decades, she’d made certain no one except Sionna worried about her, not even her parents. From almost the beginning, though, Alex had refused to be fobbed off. Refused to be assuaged. Refused to accept anything but what she—in his eyes—deserved, from others and from herself.
His anger on her behalf was a comfort, but also a burden. Because of it, she now needed to defend her thought processes to himandherself, when she’d never had to bother before, and it was … uncomfortable.
“I’m mostly better now, I think.” The truth, although that wasn’t her main reason for considering a return. “And I feel like …”
How could she explain it in a way he’d accept?
Still fumbling for words, she tried again. “I feel like, if I’m physically and emotionally capable of it, I should go wherever I can do the most good. Wherever my particular skills are most urgently needed. And that would be the ER.”
“Even though working there makes you unhappy.” His tone was hard. Inexorable. “Even though it hurts you.”
Surely she could come up with a rebuttal to that statement.
She would, any time now.
“But you’d go back anyway.” He was nearly vibrating with emotion, his huge heart thudding against her cheek. “Because how you feel isn’t important. Becauseyou’renot important.”
She jerked her head back to glare up at him. “That’s not true!”
It was an automatic, angry denial. And if some small part of her brain slotted his words away, saving them for future contemplation, he didn’t need to know.
“I don’t think I’m unimportant. I just … I just want to do the right thing. The same as you, Alex.” Her hands fisted against his back, her short nails stinging her palms. “Please try and understand.”
“Oh, I understand, Wren.” His jaw was a stony jut. “Trust me.”
Time for a subject change. Stat.
Luckily, Alex could rarely resist talking about himself. “You said you wanted to think through your own work options on this trip. Have you come to any conclusions?”
The duo of deep, vertical creases between his brows didn’t smooth.
“I know what you’re doing.” He gave her neck a squeeze. “Don’t think I don’t realize.”
She raised her own brows. “It’s a genuine question.”
Fortunately, genuine questions and attempts at distraction weren’t mutually exclusive.
“Fine. But our conversation about your job choices isn’t over. On our way back down the coast, expect some hard questions, Wren.” His lips quirked. “Among other hard items you might encounter.”
She waited for it.
“Specifically, my penis,” he clarified.
And there it was.
Even knowing what he’d say didn’t stop her from snickering. “It must have killed you to bite back your double entendres all those months.”
His usual brilliant, beaming grin returned, and her shoulders relaxed.
“That wasn’t a double entendre. Once you use the actual wordpenis,I feel certain you’ve reached single entendre territory.” His laugh was a deep rumble, shaking through her. “Anyway, yes, you have no idea how hard it was.”
Before she could respond, he raised a lofty finger. “Andthat,my dear Wren, is a double entendre.”
