Page 28 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“Just call me Richard,” he chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Now, where's that rascal of a son of mine?” He scans the hallway, then spots Liam talking to a patient a few feet away.

“Liam!” he booms, his voice cutting through the chatter of the waiting area. “Emma's here to see you.”

Liam turns, his brow furrowing in confusion. He excuses himself from the patient and walks toward us, a frown etched on his face.

“Hey, Dad,” he greets, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance.

Richard pats him on the shoulder. “You have a visitor, son. Now, I believe Mr. Jones needs his medication checked. You two go on, get out of here. Talk things through.”

He winks at me, a knowing smile playing on his lips, before disappearing back into the patient's room.

Liam stares at me for a beat, then sighs. “Emma, I can't really—“ he starts, but I cut him off.

“An hour, Liam! An hour I've been sitting here while you…” My anger threatens to reignite. “You could have at least come and said something. Explained what was going out.”

Liam's jaw clenches. “I was busy, okay? But…”

“But what?” I spit, frustration bubbling over. “Do you have any idea what this is doing to me? Everyone thinks we're some secret couple. June practically did a happy dance when she saw me!”

Liam's hands fist into balls at his sides. “Look, I get that it's frustrating,” he says, his voice tight with contained anger. “But just give me a moment, alright? I can't just drop everything and?—“

“No!” I nearly shout, my voice echoing in the sterile hallway. “You can't just drop everything? What about my reputation? What about…”

I trail off, my voice choked with emotion. The heat of his anger mirrors mine, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the air. “Is something wrong here?” It's Dr. Miller, looking back at us from the doorway of the patient's room.

Liam closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “No, Dad, everything's fine. Emma and I were just… discussing something.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Dr. Miller booms, a mischievous glint in his eye, “it looks like it can’t wait. Mr. Jones is in good hands. Why don't you two go somewhere private and talk it out in peace?”

There's a playful edge to his voice, and for a moment, the absurdity of the situation threatens to break the tension. Then, to my surprise, Liam lets out a defeated chuckle.

“You're right, Dad,” he says, shaking his head. “Come on, Emma. Let's go.”

He gestures toward the exit, and I hesitate. Part of me wants to stay, to fight Liam about the mess he'd created. But another part, a deeper more primal part, can't ignore the undeniable pull toward him.

“I’ll drive.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I have my own car and I can drive.”

“Let’s not argue here, Emma.” He murmurs, “Please?”

I follow him silently and climb into his car, and he drives us. There’s silence in the car as I battle with my senses from being overtaken by the aroma of his cologne—a blend of woodsy notes and clean musk. My gaze follows the path of his hand as he rests it on the steering wheel of his car, strong fingers wrapped tightly around the smooth leather.

He parks in front of a house and turns to me. “Wanna come in?”

“I don’t need to.” I shake my head. “Just tell the whole town the truth.”

“I won’t if you don’t come in. There’s something I want to tell you first, and I can’t have us argue outside where anyone can see us again.”

I blow out a breath and he leans over to unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door. “Come on.” He climbs out on the driver’s side and walks up the porch steps.

Against my better judgment, I find myself walking toward him, my senses eclipsed by a yearning I can't explain. He opens the door for me, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as I walk into the house.

He glances at me for a brief moment. “I'm sorry about causing you trouble,” he mutters, his voice gruff. “I must admit that the kiss was about more than saving you. I wanted to kiss you.”

I don't respond, unsure of what to say. Part of me wants to tear into him, to unleash the full force of my anger. But another part, a traitorous part, can't help but be captivated by the raw emotion simmering beneath his stoic exterior.

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