Page 35 of Dr. Fellow

Because my schedule has been so light, we haven’t run into each other since I heard he was back. I thought someone told me he was only working part time, but it’s possible things changed—we get so many fucking emails that it’s hard to keep stuff straight.

“Could be worse.” Weston laughs half-heartedly and pulls off his navy scrub cap. “Could be a hell of a lot better though.”

“We’re all living the dream,” I reply sarcastically, studying the hollow bags beneath his hazel eyes. I’m sure the workload for a junior attending isn’t great, but it’s a hell of a lot better than a resident—he shouldn’t look so tired.

He runs his fingers through his dirty blond hair and lets out an almost pained exhale. “You boys need an extra? Feels like I haven’t left the house, or hospital, in months.”

Beau shifts uncomfortably beside me, and I can tell that he’s going to say something rude if I don’t keep talking.

“It’s just a few of us flying out for Parker’s bachelor party. Next time though.”

Weston’s face falls dejectedly. “No of course. Well, y’all have fun. I’ll catch you around.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his scrub pants and nods at me before walking away.

Beau leans in as we start down the hallway again and whispers, “Dude, that was so fucking awkward.”

He shudders dramatically before wrapping his meaty arm around my neck. “Anyway, like I was saying, I’m kind of terrified of our trip.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just plan a separate bachelor party.”

I think Beau felt sorry for me about the divorce and impulsively invited me to go to Vegas a few weeks ago. Even though I like Parker, it’s not my style to crash someone else’s party, and the words to politely decline his offer were on the tip of my tongue when he mentioned that the girls were going too.

Images of Morgan dancing on a table or going home with a random guy flashed through my head. And since I knew Beau and Parker would be preoccupied with their significant others, I agreed. At the time I justified it with the fact that I felt this carnal urge to take care of her that I couldn’t explain. But after the other night, I realized that my reaction was more . . . so much more.

“With what time?” Beau scoffs. “I’ve been slammed in trauma. The only reason I got to see your pretty face is because you decided to cover for Dr. Owens. Thanks, by the way, he blows a fat one.”

I nod, knowing exactly what he means—the guy is a huge douche.

Beau continues, “Plus, Claire already had a dope-ass trip planned for the girls, so it was easier to just mooch off of them.”

“Do you even know what we’re doing when we get there?”

“She hasn’t told me shit,” he answers, tapping the button for the elevator. “We’ll be fine though. She knows that there will be consequences if she pulls anything ridiculous.”

I shake my head because from what I know about Claire, she’s going to purposely do something to provoke a reaction. “Who else is going?”

“Besides us?” Beau glances at me as the elevator dings open. We step inside, and he leans against the back wall. “Just their sister, Caroline.”

“She’s in med school, right?” I ask, vaguely recalling meeting her at the engagement party.

“Yeah, she’s literally a mini Parker.” He closes his eyes for a moment as the elevator lurches upward. “They look fucking identical. It’s creepy.”

While I was pretty drunk the night we spoke, his description isn’t wrong. You can tell she’s much younger than her brother, but I remember thinking that they could almost pass for twins. Hell, even their mannerisms were the same.

“Well, at least we’ll have someone responsible to watch Claire and Morgan.”

Beau shakes his head as a wry smile tugs at his lips. “Those two are pure chaos when they’re together. At least I can attempt to corral Claire with my charm. Morgan is immune to it. I genuinely don’t think she can be tamed.”

I’m not sure she can either, but I damn well want to try.

***

The post-op notes for the day don’t take as long as I expect, so I’ve got plenty of time to swing by Publix before heading to Morgan’s house. She refused to give me her address and said that if I really wanted to find her, I would. Normally, a bullshit game like that would piss me the fuck off, but everything about her just draws me in like a damn magnetic force that’s impossible to break away from.

Her rental is situated behind the property owner’s main house, and as I walk up the driveway, I find myself surprised. I don’t know why I thought she was a woman who would only accept a life of luxury. Maybe it’s her confidence or outgoing nature, but a tiny guest cottage isn’t remotely what I expected.

The home is painted a pale blue color with white trim around the windows and doors. There’s a small porch with a wooden swing hanging from the beams above, and while it’s still too early in the spring for new plantings, the front flower beds are well kept.

---