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“That’s none of your business.”
“Ellie—”
“Dr. Lundrig,” I corrected automatically, then hated myself for it.
“You flew home instead of staying the weekend to celebrate.”
“Maybe I hate celebrating.”
“You don’t.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I know you.” The words came out rough, scraped raw. “I know you order the salad on Mondays and pick out the tomatoes. I know you arrive early and use a coffee cup that says World’s Okayest Doctor. I know you chew your stylus when you’re thinking and that you draw smiley faces when you think someone needs encouragement.”
“Stop.” My voice broke.
“I know you research treatment protocols at midnight because you care too much to do anything halfway. You stayed late to watch my practice even though you aren’t on the clock. I know—”
“Stop!” The word echoed off the tile. “You don’t get to list things you’ve noticed about me like it erases what you said.”
“I’m not trying to erase it.” He took another step, putting us three feet apart now. Close enough I could see his chest rising and falling too fast. “I’m trying to show you that I lied.”
“About what?”
“When I said you were just doing your job.” His hands flexed at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for me. “I lied because I was terrified of you seeing me the way I saw myself.”
His face cracked open before he could lock it down again. He took a step forward. I took a step back.
“I pushed you away because I’m a fucking coward,” he said.
“I know that already.”
“Then why are you really here?”
“I told you. I needed to get something.”
“Stop lying.”
“Don’t even go there.” My voice came out too soft to be a real barrier.
He closed the distance between us, placing himself close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“You watched the game,” he said.
“I didn’t.”
“Be honest with me about this.”
My mask cracked. “Fine. Yes. I watched.”
“And?”
“And you played like you were trying to kill yourself.”
“I was trying to prove that I’m worth keeping.”
The rawness in his voice made my knees weaken.
