Page 54 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“Damn it, Emma,” I mutter to myself, pacing the room. I bury my face in my pillow, trying to summon sleep and hold back the tears that threaten to spill over. The pillow muffles my frustrated groans as I grapple with my tangled feelings.

The room is dark, save for the soft glow of the bedside lamp. I hear the muffled sounds of conversation from the dining room, and I feel a pang of guilt for ruining dinner. June and Damon have been nothing but supportive, and here I am, snapping at them because of my own insecurities.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I know I need to confront Liam, to understand what’s going on between us, but the thought of that conversation fills me with dread. What if he confirms my worst fears? What if he’s pulling away because he’s not as invested in this relationship as I am?

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, my mind racing. I think about the moments we’ve shared, the laughter and the kisses, the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching. I want to believe those moments mean something to him, that they’re not just fleeting.

But then I remember the silence, the way he’s been distancing himself. I feel a fresh wave of frustration and sadness wash over me. How did everything get so complicated?

The door creaks open, and June steps inside, her expression soft and concerned. “Emma,” she calls gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head, not trusting my voice. She doesn’t press me, just sits there, offering silent support. I appreciate her presence more than words can express.

After a while, she stands up. “I’m here if you need me, okay? Don’t hesitate to call out.”

I nod, watching as she leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her. I take another deep breath and close my eyes, hoping sleep will come soon and offer a temporary escape from my swirling thoughts.

As I lie there in the dark, I resolve to find a way to talk to Liam. I can’t keep going like this, caught in a limbo of uncertainty. I need to know where we stand, even if the truth is painful. It’s the only way I can find some peace of mind.

With that thought, I finally drift off to sleep, my thoughts filled with images of Liam and the unresolved questions that haunt me.

17

LIAM

I wake up feeling groggy.

The insistent throbbing behind my eyes feels like a relentless drumbeat, each pulse echoing the dull ache in my head.

I crack open one eye, greeted by the harsh glare of sunlight filtering through the blinds. A groan escapes my lips as I roll over, the sheets tangled around me like unwelcome restraints.

The bedside clock says the time is 8:05. That means I’ve slept for a whole twenty-eight minutes. The weariness of the restless night clings to me like a heavy fog. For days now, sleep has been a rare commodity, stolen away by thoughts of Emma that refuse to let me rest. Even in my dreams, she’s there, in an endless collage of her laughter, her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she's truly amused.

Every time I wake up, it feels like I’m being ripped away from a fantastical world, only to be plunged back into the harsh reality of my self-imposed exile.

It makes getting over her fucking impossible. Emma Cole is driving me mad without even being present.

I roll out of bed before I pad to the bathroom, flicking on the light. The bright lights hit my eyes, showing me my image in the full-length mirror. I wince at my reflection. Red-rimmed eyes, hair sticking out at odd angles, sunken cheeks—it’s looks like someone suffering withdrawal symptoms from an addictive drug. I'm a mess, like a man on the verge of collapse,

A knock on the door interrupts my self-pity. “Liam, breakfast is ready,” my dad calls out. “Join me downstairs before it gets cold.”

“Coming,” I mumble, splashing cold water on my face in a feeble attempt to wake up. It doesn't help much, but I make my way to the kitchen, anyway.

Dad is already seated, sipping his coffee. He looks up as I enter and raises an eyebrow. “Another rough night?”

“Something like that.” I shrug, grabbing a mug and pouring myself a generous helping of coffee. The bitter liquid jolts my senses awake, momentarily pushing away the fog in my head. I take a seat across from him.

He eyes me knowingly. “You look like hell, son. Why don't you just go and settle things with her?”

I frown, poking at the scrambled eggs on my plate. “I'm not fighting with Emma. There's nothing to settle.”

He lets out a short laugh. “I'm not a fool, Liam. Anyone with eyes can see something's going on.”

I shake my head, refusing to meet his gaze. “It's complicated.”

“It always is,” he replies. “But you're more at risk of collapsing than I am. You've been working those long twenty-hour shifts with no sleep for the past two days trying to keep your mind off her. That's not sustainable.”

“I'm fine,” I insist, though my voice lacks conviction.

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