Page 120 of How to Walk Away

“Both.”

I smiled.

He went on, “I will miss it, though.”

“Are they going to take away your license?”

“Yes.”

If he lost his license, he lost his visa. “Does that mean you have to leave the country?”

He paused a second on this one, walking over to sit down on the bed beside me. “I think so. Yes.”

I blinked. “They’re making you leave? The government is going after you?”

He shook his head. “Myles is going after me. And he’ll win, too.”

“You’re not going to fight him?”

“There’s nothing to fight. It’s over. Your sister posted it on Instagram.”

“Oh, my God.” I put my hand over my eyes. “Kit.”

“It’s not her fault,” he said. “I kissed you in front of a hundred people in that room. It was hardly a private moment.”

“But it wasn’t your fault! It was the mistletoe!”

Ian shook his head.

“It was a pity kiss!” I went on. “You were just being nice! I’ll testify!”

Now he smiled at me like I was deluded—but in a cute way.

“You weren’t even technically my PT anymore!”

“Doesn’t matter. I worked there. You were a patient.”

It seemed insane. “That’s it? One kiss, and you’re exiled?”

Ian gave a half-smile. “Apparently.”

Ian suddenly seemed very close. Just inches away, really. Having him right here—so near—made the idea of his leaving feel excruciating. “You can’t go,” I said.

He gave a shrug. “I can’t stay. My visa was for a particular job that requires a particular license.”

“What will you do?”

“Go home. To Edinburgh.”

I felt a cramp in my chest.

He went on, “I’ve got four brothers there. Two of them are doctors. One’s already found me an interview at a hospital.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, like we were just chatting. “That’s good.”

But he didn’t answer. He just reached out and took my hand. At the touch, I drew in a shaky breath. Then he let it go.

“The interview’s on Monday,” he said.

---