Page 50 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

I close my eyes and clench my teeth for a split second. Damon’s just ruined my chance for a quiet exit.

Emma rushes back out, her eyes quickly scanning my face. “You’re leaving?”

I nod. “Gotta go.”

Emma grabs my hand and leads me out, Damon and June following with Ethan some distance behind us.

“Liam,” Emma’s voice drops into a whisper, “what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

I shake my head, trying to hide my unease. “It’s nothing.”

June appears beside Emma, her expression hopeful. “Can’t we convince you to stay for dinner? You’ve done a lot for us today and we’d love to have you for dinner.”

I look up at June’s worried eyes and manage a smile. “I wish I could, but I need to get to the hospital. My dad covered my shift this morning, and I need to relieve him.” I end my explanation with a quick glancing at the clock.

Emma’s face falls slightly, but she nods in understanding. “Let me drive you, then.”

I shake my head. “You should stay and talk about the venues with June. I can manage to hitch a ride.”

“Liam—”

“Come on.” I grab her arm, trying to keep my tone light as I nod at her.

“Hey!”

I turn around to Damon. He throws me a set of car keys with a chuckle. “Here, take the car I just fixed. It needs a test drive, anyway.”

I catch the keys and nod gratefully. “Thanks, Damon.”

I walk out to the car, an old but well-maintained model, and slide behind the wheel. As I turn away from the Cole driveway and head toward the hospital road, my mind churns.

It was stupid of me to have this kind of reaction, but I was even more foolish for getting jealous when Mr. Solomon mentioned Emma dating his son. This tight space between anger, frustration, and pain is a foreign feeling for me. I’ve never been jealous, because jealousy means you care, and I’ve never cared about any woman enough to feel that way.

I rake my hand through my hair in frustration. So why do I feel so uncomfortable about a high school fling that surely happened over a decade ago? It's ridiculous.

I don't care enough about Emma Cole to feel jealous. Not in that way.

The drive to the hospital is a blur. My mind replays the scene at the bagel shop on a loop, Mr. Solomon's words echoing in my head. I recall the subtle shift in her demeanor, the flicker of something like a memory in her eyes—it had all triggered something primal within me. A possessiveness I can't explain.

I don’t own her, just as much she doesn’t own me. Getting possessive and jealous defeats the purpose of logic with which I handle these matters. All that we have between us is a consensual raw, primal need—no need to attach strings.

Reaching the hospital parking lot, I pull into a vacant spot and shut off the engine. Grace walks out of the hospital building. Her blonde hair, usually pulled back in a neat bun, is cascading down her shoulders in a carefree disarray. She smiles brightly when she sees me.

“Dr. Miller,” she greets, her voice laced with a hint of happiness. “Everything alright? I thought your shift and mine were the same today?”

“Yes, they were,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Had to deal with something that came up.”

“Well, whatever it was, I'm glad you're here now.” She smiles, her eyes lingering on me for a beat too long. “And yeah, I should tell you… The team wanted to express their admiration for the way you handled last night. You made our nights.”

“It was nothing heroic,” I mumble, suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. “I’m more grateful for your hard work.”

“Well, some heroes wear scrubs,” she mumbles, her voice playful. “And stethoscopes.” She winks before walking away, her hips swaying with each step.

In the past, Grace’s flirting would have sparked something in me. She’s beautiful and smart, the kind of woman I’d have pursued without a second thought. But now, as I watch her walk away, I feel nothing. There’s no flicker of interest. My indifference is all because of Emma. She is getting under my skin. There’s no doubt about it. And the deeper she seeps in, the more I realize the potential for a messy, painful entanglement.

I need to get a handle on this fast. Emma is a temporary fixture in my life. The sooner I gain control of these borrowed feelings, the less likely I am to get burned.

With a sigh, I grab my bag and step out of the car. The cool night air feels invigorating, a sharp contrast to the tangled mess of emotions swirling within me. Tonight, I have a long shift ahead of me. Maybe focusing on saving lives will be the perfect distraction.

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