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“I know. I’m sorry.” He kissed my hand again.
“We need to talk.”
“We will,” he assured me.
“Good, because I still don’t want you.” I smirked.
“And I’m still angry with you.” He smiled the best he could.
“Perfect.” I rested my head on his bed, emotionally and physically exhausted.
After a few minutes, Drake began to play with my hair. “Charlotte . . . you’re the only person I would want here with me.”
I raised my head, confused and touched by his openness. “I bet you say that to every girl who drives you to the hospital,” I teased.
“Since you’re the only one to fit that bill, I guess you’re it, then.” He caressed my cheek.
I wanted to ask if I was it, but the doctor finally arrived.
Dr. Shawn Roosevelt—the most eligible bachelor in town according to the town gossip, really Izzy, as she was truly my only source of gossip. He was attractive, with his to-die-for smooth black skin and athletic physique. According to Izzy, he had played college football. His bright smile didn’t hurt either.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Roosevelt.” He directed his greeting at me.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Charlotte Valentine,” Dr. Roosevelt finished for me.
I tilted my head, surprised he knew who I was.
“You’re the new owner of the inn.”
I nodded.
“I’m coming to the ball. It’s the hottest ticket in town.” He grinned.
“That’s great news.” I returned his smile.
Drake cleared his throat while glaring at the doctor.
Dr. Roosevelt turned his attention to the patient. “And you are Drake Foster. The reason the staff is going crazy tonight.” He took the seat vacated by Evie. “Let’s figure out what’s going on with you.”
That’s what I wanted to say to Drake, but you know, more on an emotional level.
Dr. Roosevelt looked over Drake’s chart in the computer. “I’d like to do a CT scan and a KUB X-ray.”
“Do you think it’s kidney stones?” I asked.
“It’s hard to tell, but we will know soon enough.” Dr. Roosevelt put his stethoscope in his ears.
“Can you at least give him something for the pain? Please.”
Dr. Roosevelt stood and hovered above Drake. “We’ll make sure he’s comfortable as soon as we get some tests run.” He did the doctor things, like listening to his heart and lungs and feeling around his abdomen. I could tell the doctor, from personal experience, that his abs were perfect. Once he was done examining Drake, he gave me a toothy grin. “A nurse will be in soon to take him down to imaging.” He paused. “Save a space for me on your dance card.” He shuffled his feet as if he were embarrassed.
“I will,” I said, a little flustered myself. It wasn’t every day a handsome doctor asked me to dance, especially in front of the gorgeous object of my soul’s desire.
“Great. I’ll be back in to check on you . . . I mean him.” He pointed at Drake before he rushed out.
“I don’t like him,” Drake growled as soon as the door was shut.
“He seems competent.” I pulled Drake’s blanket up to make sure he was warm.
“He was coming on to you.” Drake captured my hand.
“And that makes him incompetent?” I raised my brow.
“No, that’s the smartest thing that came out of his mouth.” Drake channeled his pain into venting.
“So, what you’re saying is . . . you’re jealous?” I sang, probably a little too gleefully, but this was kind of a big deal for me.
Drake squeezed my hand like he was having a contraction, yet his eyes stayed focused on my own. “Yes,” he admitted.
This was excellent news. But . . . I leaned in. “What are you going to do about it?”
He closed his eyes and let out a slow exhale.
I waited with bated breath for his reply, my heart pounding. Was I a fool for even holding out any hope for us? For him? Did he think he was dying, so he didn’t care what he said? I had a lot of questions.
“I’m going to see how magical you really are.”
“What does that mean?”
He opened his eyes. “It means you’re going to find out why I’m such a terrible person.”
“Like on a scale from one to ten, how terrible are you really?” Inquiring minds needed to know.
“An eleven,” he deadpanned, without even thinking about it.
“Oh,” I said, in a pitch well above my normal range. “Well, I’ll be extra magical, then. You know, unless you killed somebody. My magic has its limits,” I teased, but couldn’t have been more serious. If he really had offed someone, I was out of there—and Jameson and I were hitting the witness protection program.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he whispered. “But I might as well have,” his voice cracked with such guilt and emotion.
As curious as I was to learn what he had done, all I could do was ache for him. “We’ll figure it out,” I promised. We had to because I refused to let my soul keep searching for his until I died a miserable death.
