Page 49 of Doctor Hot Mess

This isn’t me. I don’t linger. I don’t let my guard down. I don’t wake up tangled in someone else’s life without knowing exactly where I stand.

Sliding the sheet aside, I ease out of bed, careful not to disturb him. The hardwood floor feels cool under my feet as I gather my clothes, trying to stay quiet. My leggings are draped over the arm of a chair, my sports bra discarded near the foot of the bed. It’s like a trail of evidence leading back to last night, a stark reminder of how completely I lost control.

I tug my shirt over my head and clutch my shoes in one hand as I tiptoe toward the door, my heart hammering. Almost there. Almost out.

But as I reach for the handle, a quiet voice stops me in my tracks.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?"

I freeze. My grip tightens on the doorframe as I turn to see Jonah propped up on one elbow. His piercing blue eyes are bright despite the haze of sleep. There’s no anger in his expression, just curiosity—and maybe a flicker of something softer.

"I didn’t want to wake you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, also aware of the other person in this condo I don't want to wake. God, I hate my life right this second.

Jonah raises an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth lifts in a way that’s equal parts playful and serious. "I wish you would have before you got out. Now I'll have to undress you all over again. Which, of course, I'm not complaining about."

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s a heat in his gaze that sucks all of the oxygen out of my body. For a moment, I consider brushing it off, making some sarcastic remark to lighten the mood and get on my way. But I don’t. I can’t. The look in his eyes tells me he isn’t joking.

Jonah shifts slightly and sexily licks his full lips. The sheet slips down, revealing his broad chest and the tattoos I was definitelynotstaring at earlier. He gives me that grin—the one that’s too easy and too dangerous all at once.

“You know,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep, “you’re overthinking. Again. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m not—” I start, but he cuts me off with a look. It’s not condescending, just...knowing. Damn him for knowing me so well.

He pats the empty side of the bed, the grin softening into something gentler. “Come back. Let’s just take a minute. No agendas, no big decisions. Just us.”

I hesitate, the tug of his words stronger than I want them to be. The bed is warm, and honestly, there’s a part of me that wants to sink back into it, let myself be lulled by the calm of the morning. But I can’t—not after everything I just spiraled through.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say finally, crossing my arms as I stand awkwardly at the edge of the room.

Jonah raises an eyebrow, clearly not used to hearing me deflect. “Because?”

“Because,” I reply, searching for a reason that isn’tbecause all I want to do is fuck your brains out and that isn't productive.“Don’t you have to go to work today? I’m not on until tonight, but it is Monday morning, after all.”

“Mondays are my late days. Clinic days unless I’m on call the weekend before. I thought you knew my schedule, Harper,” he jokes.

“Please. I can barely keep up with my own. Well, what about coffee instead? Like, actually go out. It’s a nice morning. A walk could be good.”

He studies me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, and I brace myself for one of his sarcastic quips. But instead, he sighs, leaning back against the pillows.

“All right,” he says, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “But for the record, I’d prefer coffee in bed. With you.”

I roll my eyes, my lips twitching despite myself. “I'm a messy drinker. I'd hate to get coffee in your bed.”

“I wouldn't mind,” he counters. “But I'll concede.”

“Smart man,” I mutter, heading toward the door. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you out here.”

He laughs, low and easy, and I feel his gaze follow me as I leave the room. “You got it, Nurse Gray. But don’t think this is me giving up. Or, pretending.”

“Didn’t think for a second that you were capable of that,” I call back over my shoulder. As I step out of Jonah’s room, relief is just starting to settle in my chest. A walk, some coffee—neutral ground. Maybe that’s exactly what we need to clear the air.

But my plan of slipping out unnoticed dies an instant death when I turn the corner and come face-to-face with Lila.

She’s standing at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a mug of coffee. When she spots me, her eyes widen, and then her face lights up with a grin that could rival the sun.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, leaning against the counter with a smug look. “Good morning, Sunshine. I was hoping your phone on the counter meant you stayed the night.”

My face instantly heats up, but I plaster on a smile. “Morning, Lila,” I say, my voice a little too chipper. I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder, suddenly hyper-aware of how obvious it is that I’m leaving Jonah’s room. My hair’s a mess, my shirt is wrinkled, and the look on Lila’s face says she’s already drawn every conclusion there is to draw.

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