Page 44 of Resisting You

“I’ve known you a while now, and I know when something’s under your skin. What is it?”

Frey looked up at his friend. Like Oz, the truth was ready to burst, but he didn’t want to do it like this. “Can we talk later? Just you and me. I need…I don’t know. An ear? A conscience?”

“I’m all yours,” Adele said. “I’m working tonight, but it’ll probably be slow. Stop by the station. We’ll have snacks.”

“I fucking love snacks,” Frey said. He gave Adele a hug, then meandered toward his car. There wasn’t much left to say or do except face the music, and it was just a shame he was apparently tone-deaf.

“…to Dr. Agosti’s office. I really don’t want to walk that far. I don’t know why his spoiled ass can’t just come over here to pick this shit up.”

“You know why. And it’s probably better. He’s been in a fucking mood all week, and I’m not in the mood to get reamed out by him.”

Frey’s head whipped around so hard he almost pulled a tendon in his neck. So much for trying not to react to Renato’s name. He’d told himself he was going to have nothing but chill when he got into work, and for the last four hours, he’d been on edge.

He’d just finished rounds when he heard the two nurses at the station talking about him, and he slid up, leaning his elbow on the desk. “Afternoon, ladies.”

“Afternoon, smart-ass,” Carol said.

He grinned at her. “I need an excuse to get out of the building for a few minutes. I can run those over to Agosti if you want me to.”

They exchanged a look. “Do you have a fetish for, like, getting yelled at?”

Frey’s cheeks heated, and he hoped to God his blush wasn’t visible. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you always seem to be around when he’s in a mood, and he’s almost always meaner to you than he is to the residents,” Amy answered.

Fuck, do not be obvious, he told himself. He cleared his throat. “I’m just doing my part in protecting others. It’s been a long week for everyone, and I can take his shitty attitude.”

Carol didn’t look like she believed him. Not entirely. But she also didn’t look eager to go over to his office. And Frey wasn’t lying—he really did want to get out of the building for a few moments. After a beat, she shrugged and pushed the stack of folders toward him. “I’ll cover you. Even your guy with the fucking toenail is better than Agosti.”

For a hot second, Frey felt like yelling—like telling Carol that it wasn’t Renato’s fault. He didn’t know how his husband had died or when. Only that it was clearly part of the reason he was such a dick. Asshole or not, he deserved a little grace.

But that would entirely give him away, so instead, he pulled the folders against his chest and grinned at them before turning on his heel and heading for the elevators. It didn’t take long to escape the hospital air, and while he could have taken the wind tunnel, he wanted to feel the sun on his face.

It was warm, and the breeze was gentle, and he kept a slow pace as he wove around cars in the connected parking lot until he reached the automatic doors of the physicians’ building. Not for the first time, Frey kind of wished Renato and his partners did sports medicine. At the very least, he’d get some eye candy. But when he switched from labor and delivery, he learned very quickly that most orthopedic patients were geriatric, bitter, and impossible to please.

He passed a couple who were both using a walker, bitching at each other as they headed for their ride van. “…would be easier if I just died,” the man groused.

“It would make my days a lot quieter,” the woman fired back.

In another life, that might have been hilarious, and he did crack a little smile, but he also knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be wildly in love from the moment he met his partner to the moment they took their last breath—hopefully together like the couple in The Notebook.

He didn’t want to love only to end up hateful in the twilight years. He just didn’t know if that was possible.

Shaking himself out of it, he hurried into the building and made his way up to Renato’s office. His badge didn’t work on the staff doors, so he had to go into the lobby, and he smiled at the receptionist, who gave him a quirked eyebrow.

“Drop off for Re—uh, for Dr. Agosti.” He hoped she didn’t notice his slip.

“I can take it,” she said, holding out her hands.

Any logical person would have handed the files over, but Frey found himself shaking his head. “I gotta make sure they get into his hands immediately.”

She looked a little annoyed, but she glanced at his badge, then hit the button to unlock the door. He heard the thumping click, then let himself in and didn’t bother asking for directions. He’d never been in his offices, but that was fine. He knew his way around. It only took a couple moments of poking his head into random non-patient doors before he found what he was looking for.

Renato had his door cracked, and he was sitting at his desk hunched over what looked like brown parchment paper holding a sandwich on what Frey was damn sure was Wonder Bread. His entire world rearranged because what?

“You’re not eating pasta?”

Renato’s head snapped up, and his mouth opened and shut like a fish. After a second, he cleared his throat. “That’s a terrible stereotype.”

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