But I don’t. I pull back instead, anger flashing—not at her, but at myself.
“This is a mistake,” I say. “And I don’t make mistakes.”
Her voice is steady when she answers, “Neither do I.”
“I need you to understand something,” I say, stepping back fully now. “I don’t do relationships. I don’t … soften for other people. I don’t let things go too far.”
Her expression doesn’t change.
“Okay,” she says simply.
That’s it. No argument. No drama. And somehow, that strikes heavier than if she’d begged me to stay.
“I should get back to Frank,” she adds.
She reaches for the door.
Before she leaves, I say her name. “Melissa.”
She pauses, but doesn’t turn around.
“I usually only want people for a quick release,” I admit quietly. “This isn’t that.”
She looks at me then. Her gaze is warm. Sad. Understanding.
“That’s why it scares you,” she says.
Then she opens the door and walks out. I stay in the supply closet long after she’s gone. My hands curl into fists at my sides because for the first time in my life, looking at someone doesn’t make me want to forget myself.
It makes me want to be known. And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
Chapter Fifteen
Melissa
Kayla’s words have been on repeat in my head all day, telling me I’m only human and I deserve to be pleasured. She’s not subtle in her words.
But ever since Colton cornered me in the closet yesterday, my body has been like a live wire, ready to explode.
I’ve successfully avoided him all morning. He made it clear that he has no intention of acting on this attraction. If he did, it would be strictly physical.
But I know deep down what I feel for him is beyond physical. Could I ignore all that and just take a chance? No one said I needed to marry the first man I was intimate with since I’d lost Bryce.
In fact, maybe it’s good for me to have a little fling first. But none of that matters if Colton won’t let it happen.
I know he didn’t say those words in the closet to hurt me. That was the worst part. He said it like a warning. Like he was protecting us both from something inevitable.
And now here I am, standing outside Frank’s room, smoothing my scrubs like they can steady my pulse.
Frank, at least, is the same.
“Melissa,” he says brightly when I enter. “There you are. I was beginning to think you’d abandoned me for a more charming, younger patient.”
I smile despite myself. “You are absolutely my most charming patient.”
“Damn right,” he says. “And don’t let Fisher tell you otherwise.”
My stomach flips at the name, but I keep my expression neutral as I check his IV.
