Page 62 of Viking Ink

RHYS

“Rhys, did the mail come in?” Doc yelled out from his office, not caring if patients were listening in the waiting room. He’d been in a mood all morning, and it was time I found out why. I knocked on his consulting room door, waiting for his half mumbled, “Enter.”

Leveling my best no-nonsense scowl. I handed him his mail. “You, sir, have been a cranky curmudgeon all morning. What gives?”

“Have not. And who are you to call me a curmudgeon?” He huffed, shoving his paperwork aside and eyeing the pack of chocolate hobnobs I held in my other hand.

“Your friend and short-suffering employee.” I huffed.

He reached out for the pack of biscuits, opening them and shoving one into his mouth, shooting me a glare as he did.

I crossed my arms. “You need somebody to spank the cranky out of you.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, realising I’d just verbalized my thoughts.

Doc gave a shrug. “Well if it would help, I probably wouldn’t say no.”

I pulled out a chair and sat down. Resting my elbows on his desk I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. “So, you’re going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Doc dipped his chin to his chest and let out a weary sigh. “Don’t we have patients waiting?”

“Nope. The next patient isn’t due for half an hour and it’s tea break time. Talk.” I narrowed my eyes and pulled out the heavy artillery. “Or do I have to tell Simon you’ve been in a mood all day?”

“That’s playing dirty, setting Simon on me.” Doc scowled, but I doubt I had annoyed him that much. I could see he was stressed. His normally neatly combed back hair was awry, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Doc sighed and slumped in his chair. “It’s really stupid,” he muttered, reaching for another biscuit.

“It mustn’t be that stupid if it’s got you this worked up.” I snatched up one of the biscuits for myself, nibbling lightly on it. My stomach still was not my biggest fan after yesterday’s adventure, but the snuggling and cuddling I got while I felt like death warmed up was totally worth it.

“Don’t be a grouch, Cullen, and tell me what’s got your knickers in a bunch.” Doc’s mood was testing me. Normally I’d let it run its course, but today he was being a particular type of curmudgeon, and it was upsetting the patients.

“My knickers are not bunched or otherwise, not that it’s any business of yours.” Doc dumped the half-eaten biscuit in the opened pack.

That wasn’t a good sign. Nothing—not hell, high water or Mr Carol’s bunion—got between Doc and his chocolate hobnobs.

“You made Mrs Marsh cry. Mrs Marsh, Doc—the sweetest woman to exist, and she walked out crying.” My voice may have risen, but I had to say something. Doc had earned his gruff reputation, sure, but he was never outright mean or rude, and he was a damn good doctor and friend. I wasn’t going to let this go.

Doc must have seen something in my face, because his own expression crumpled. “Shit. I’m sorry, Rhys. I’ll send her a bunch of Enid’s dahlias. It’s nothing really, but if you must know, I got served with divorce papers this morning. I knew it was coming, but it’s just—it just seems like such a waste of twenty years. It feels like failure, like giving up, and I don’t like that.”

“I’m sorry, Cullen. I didn’t know you were even married.”

“Oh, we’ve been separated for a couple of years. She’s a surgeon working in the city, and she never wanted to move back here. We tried to make it work spending weekends together, but at the end of the day we both wanted different things. I just hate feeling like I’ve lost that chance of finding the one, that someone who makes doing all this shit worthwhile.”

For all we liked to tease Doc about being a grumpy old man, he really wasn’t either, and it made me sad to think he felt like love and happiness were not going to happen for him. Doc was a good-looking man with a heart of gold, even if his heart was hidden behind a wall of sharp barbs and fearsome scowls.

“You know it’s never too late right, Cullen?”

“Said with all the hope and positivity of youth.” Doc rolled his eyes at me. “But you are right about me being a right royal prick today. I’m sorry, Rhys.”

“You’re forty-eight years old. You’re not an old man, and love has not suddenly become an unobtainable quantity for you. You know what? Fuck it, I’ll say it. If you weren’t such a grumpy grump who scowled at the world for no reason other than it’s the way your face has decided to set, people might want to approach you. You’re a good-looking man when you’re not scowling like the dog shit in your slippers, and I know that beneath that prickly exterior there is a heart.” I possibly shouted the last part—the man’s inability to see past his own nose had annoyed me.

Doc’s scowl turned to a sly smile. “You’d better watch the cursing, lad. I’m pretty sure your Daddy would take issue with that.”

I gasped. “How—actually, no, never mind. What’s between me and D—Simon is not relevant to this conversation. Besides, I think he’d back me up on this.”

Doc went from looking pleased to chagrined. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I spoke out of turn. Your relationship with Simon is special and I’m an observant man, that’s all. But you don’t need to worry about me blabbing about it.” Doc looked contrite, and I couldn’t be mad at him.

“Um, that— how did—why did you say that?” Simon and I had only been together a few short days and I wasn’t even sure how he knew we were dating.

Doc shrugged, smiling. “I have eyes, lad. I see the way you look at each other, and I’m not a vanilla old man. Simon has Daddy written in his DNA. But I promise I would never be indiscreet. I know how much you both value your privacy.”

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