Page 3 of Resisting You

‘Fine,’ he signed with a pout.

Oz laughed and leaned forward. ‘Don’t you have Dad night soon? Talk them into going to a club so you can find another hookup and take some of this edge off.’

Like everyone else, Oz assumed that Frey was still in his post-divorce hookup phase. In the beginning, it had been his own fault. His friends had been relentless about him finding a rebound, but he was dealing with sleepless nights, a colicky, sick baby, and a shattered heart because everything he’d worked toward building had been destroyed with a single Dear John letter pinned to his fridge with an eggplant magnet.

The letter hadn’t been long, but it was detailed.

Jace was leaving. Because he was cheating. He couldn’t take the stress of a complicated life. He didn’t want a disabled kid, he’d written, and Frey’s refusal to consider entertaining the idea of cochlear implants on their newborn—never mind the procedure wasn’t safe for their son with a weak heart, let alone the fact that Rex was only three weeks old—was apparently the last straw for him.

Jace took comfort in a stranger’s dick, and when he realized that was the life he wanted to keep living, he’d said goodbye and had never looked back. He hadn’t even shown up to the divorce hearing. He sent his attorney and gave up everything. Frey got their shared account, the house, the car, the kid. Jace even took the debt, and that was when Frey realized how far his ex was willing to go to shed his former life.

It shattered him. But it also healed him in a way because Jace had never been the kindest man. He just wished it hadn’t taken all this for Frey to see it.

When it was all over, Frey did what he was good at. He flirted, he acted like he was unbothered, and he lied to his friends. He said his mourning phase was over, that he’d never really loved Jace, and that he’d already started casually dating. He didn’t need their help.

He was fine.

Really.

He was.

Then he hid the pain behind laughter and sarcasm, and he wasn’t sure if he hated everyone just a little bit for not seeing through the ruse. It wasn’t their fault he really was a good actor, but for once, he wanted people to notice that maybe he wasn’t okay. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he really was a lonely bastard who just wanted his happily ever after with a man who accepted him and his son for who they were.

He didn’t blame Oz for that, though. They’d only just met. And the guy was nice, but he was in his life for Rex, not him.

‘I think I will,’ Frey told him, and Oz gave a satisfied nod before standing up and stomping his foot to get Rex’s attention.

Rex looked up from his tablet. ‘What?’

Oz laughed. ‘I’m leaving.’

“Bye!” Rex shouted—one of the few words he was willing to verbalize.

As Oz walked off, Frey leaned forward and tapped Rex’s ankle until he looked up. He ignored his son’s irritated glare.

‘What are you watching?’

‘Dress-Yes,’ Rex signed since he was still working on basic spelling.

Frey knew exactly what that meant. Say Yes to the Dress. He had no idea how or why his son had become obsessed with weddings—or why he decided that being a bridal stylist was his future work—but Frey wasn’t going to stand in his way.

‘You hungry?’

Rex shook his head. ‘I ate M-C-D-S,’ he spelled, ‘with Oz.’

Frey knew he should put up a bigger fuss about Oz feeding his kid fast food every time they went out, but he was too tired to give a shit. Work felt like it was draining the actual life out of him, so he was going to take as many reprieves as he could. As long as his son was fed, he was calling it a win.

Rex went back to his show, so he shuffled off to the bedroom and peeled away his scrubs, then started the shower. The hot water felt amazing, and he pressed his hands to the wall as it rained down along his back. Every muscle ached, and he knew it wasn’t from being on his feet.

It was from the complete disaster his shift had become.

Prep for the afternoon surgery had gone well, and Renato had seemed even less vicious than usual. He’d given Frey a quick up and down with a less venomous glare than he usually had. So maybe things were looking up. Preop had gone off without a hitch. Frey liked the guy who was going in for the amputation, so they’d chatted for a while, and Frey even managed to calm the guy down a little bit before he had to rush off.

And then Renato lifted the sheet off the man lying on the operating table, and that’s when everything went downhill. Drawn above the knee was a very, very obvious cock and balls. Complete with little marker strokes for pubic hair.

Never in his life had Frey heard an OR so quiet. He held back a laugh, but only barely, and the catch in his throat sounded like a gunshot.

Then Renato cleared his throat and looked up at Frey above his mask, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Do you think this is funny?”

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