Page 55 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“Sure, you are,” he bites out sarcastically, not buying it for a second. “Look, stay off the hospital for now. I'll handle the schedule.”

“Dad, I can't?—“

He cuts me off. “You can, and you will. I know you too well, Liam. Regardless of what's going on, you need rest.

I stand up and open my mouth to argue, but the room suddenly tilts at an alarming angle, and I stumble back, bracing myself against the counter to avoid falling. My father is beside me in an instant, a worried frown etched on his face.

“See?” Dad mumbles, his tone softening. “You're about to keel over. Looks like you need that rest more than you think.”

I sigh, settling back into the seat silently.

“Drink this.” He hands me a flask. “It's a tea that will help you sleep.”

I take it reluctantly, mumbling a thank you. I sip from the flask and feel its warmth spread through me, slightly easing the tension in my body. I stand up slowly, careful not to wobble this time. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Go on, get some rest,” he says, waving me off.

I make my way back upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. Once I’m back in my room, I collapse onto the bed, hoping the tea will do its job quickly. But as I lie there, my mind is still a whirlpool of thoughts, all centered around Emma. Does she hate me now? Has my distance hurt her more than I intended?

I close my eyes, trying to banish the images of her that flash through my mind. Her laughter, her smile, the way she looks at me with those piercing eyes that seem to see right through my defenses. I can’t keep doing this to myself, yet I can't seem to stop. The pull she has on me is too strong, and every attempt to distance myself only leaves me more entangled in my feelings for her.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I glance at it with a sigh. Another message from the hospital. I ignore it, knowing Dad is right—I need to rest. But rest doesn’t come easy when my heart and mind are at war. I replay our last conversation in my head, wondering if there was something I missed, some sign that I should have picked up on.

I roll onto my side, staring at the wall. Sleep is an elusive beast, but as the seconds tick by, I feel the exhaustion gradually overcome me, and I drift off into a fitful slumber, Emma's face still haunting my thoughts.

When I wake up again, it’s late afternoon. The tea did its job, and I suddenly feel fresh and ready to take on the world. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes and stretching out the stiffness from my body. The house is quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil in my head.

I head downstairs, finding Dad in the living room reading a book. He looks up as I enter, a small smile on his face. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a lot,” I admit, sitting down across from him.

“Good,” he says. “You needed it.”

I nod, not knowing what else to say. The silence stretches between us, comfortable yet charged with unspoken words. Finally, I break it. “Dad?—“

“No work, if that’s what you’re trying to talk about.” He raises an eyebrow, setting his book aside.

I shrug, feeling a little foolish. “But there’s nothing else for me to do.”

“Go have fun. Spend time with your friend. You’re his best man, and you haven’t even seen him for the past three days. Go meet him, and at least then you and your girlfriend will have no choice but to be adults and settle whatever this is.”

My cheeks burn with a mixture of anger and shame. “There's nothing to settle, Dad,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze.

He leans back in his chair, a sigh escaping his lips. “Look, son,” he says, his voice softening, “if you're fighting with Emma, just go and talk to her. Don't be stubborn about it.”

“There's no fight, Dad,” I insist, frustration creeping into my voice. “We're… We're just taking a break from everything.”

“A break, huh?” he says, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “Because from where I'm sitting, it looks a whole lot like you're running away.” He studies me for a moment, then leans back in his chair. “Love isn’t always clear-cut, Liam. It's messy and complicated, and sometimes it hits you when you least expect it. But you'll know because it will scare the hell out of you and make you feel more alive than anything else.”

The truth, raw and unpalatable, hangs heavy in the air. Am I scared? Am I running? Maybe. From myself, from the fear of getting hurt again, from the overwhelming pull I felt toward Emma, a pull that threatens to shatter the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my heart.

Do I love her? No, I shake my head. I’m incapable of that. I’d ensured it. I’m never one to feel flimsy emotions like that.

My dad is still staring straight at me. “Take forty-eight hours, clear your head. Then, when you're thinking straight, you can figure out what you want to do.”

I let his words sink in, my thoughts immediately drifting to Emma.

“Thanks, Dad,” I mumble quietly.

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