Page 24 of Accidentally Yours
She snapped her head toward him and scowled. He was smiling—like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said, his amusement fading when he registered her expression. He held up a hand. “I’m not laughingatyou. It’s just—your books have murders in them. You write about blood all the time. I wouldn’t have guessed it would affect you like that.”
Paige folded her hands over her stomach, feeling absurdly like a corpse in a casket. “Writing about blood and seeing blood are two different things.” With a sigh, she added, “And you really whacked your head. I can’t believe you didn’t need stitches.”
Her gaze flicked to the butterfly bandages again, guilt twisting inside her. If she hadn’t been so utterly distracted by Ethan’s ridiculously kissable lips, she might’ve noticed the low-hanging metal sign and warned him. Instead, she’d walked him straight into it.
But how could she have been paying attention to anything else when she’d been so caught up in the moment? At first, she’d leaned into his embrace purely for research, just to understand the feeling, the chemistry, the mechanics of attraction, so she could write it more convincingly. That was the plan. Just a little fact-finding mission.
But then Ethan had looked at her—really looked at her. Had he smoldered? The world had gone hazy around the edges. His touch had been warm, grounding, and when her gaze dipped to his lips, she hadn’t been thinking about character motivation or scene beats. She’d been thinking about kissing him.
And she probably would have—if it weren’t for the ill-placed street sign and Ethan’s unfortunate collision.
Which, in hindsight, was either a blessing or a tragedy. Because, if she was being honest with herself . . . she had a strong suspicion she would’ve enjoyed the kiss. Maybe too much.
“You really scared me,” Ethan admitted. “I wasn’t sure what happened.”
“I know,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” His voice softened. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Paige grinned. That was sweet. He was hurt, yet he was worried about her.
“I’m okay,” she amended. “But I am sorry you slammed your head into a street sign, and I didn’t stop you.”
Ethan let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I did that.”
She hummed in agreement. Knowing her luck, someone had caught the whole fiasco on video. Instead of the public image they were trying to create, the next viral post would be about Ethan’s head injury. Probably with a clickbait headline likeBestselling Author’s Face Ruined—Will He Ever Write Again?
But the cutwasbad.
It was the only reason she’d agreed to come to the ER. Ethan had insisted after she fainted—twice. Paige knew she was fine, even after passing out a second time. This had happened before. She just needed to sit for a minute, take a few deep breaths, and not look at blood. But Ethan? She was sure he needed stitches. So she’d agreed. For him.
And she really hoped a certain Dr. Han wasn’t on shift today. So far, so good.
“I went to medical school,” she blurted out, staring at the ceiling.
“What?” Ethan barked. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Made it through one year.”
“Why?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.
Paige hesitated, her fingers twitching against the scratchy hospital blanket. She didn’t talk about this. Not really. Not to anyone outside of Gigi and Alice. Maybe it was the leftover dizziness. Or the way Ethan had taken charge, taking care of her. It went against her fierce independence, but deep down, she liked it. It was nice to have someone watch out for her.
Either way, the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“I always wanted to be a writer.” She whispered it, like an old truth she wasn’t sure she could claim.
Ethan, who had been watching her like she might keel over again, straightened. “Then how’d you end up in medical school?”
She let out a breath, tilting her head back against the pillow. “My parents are both surgeons, and I’m an only child. It was never really a choice. It was just . . . expected that I’d do the same.” She glanced at Ethan, waiting for the inevitable judgment. But he was just watching her, unreadable. So she kept going. “I did the whole pre-med thing, got accepted into a great program, and convinced myself I could do it. But toward the end of my first year, I started fainting. Every time I saw blood, my body just . . . shut down.”
Ethan’s brows pulled together, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” she said quickly. “But I don’t think it was just about the blood. It was the panic. The realization that I might be stuck in a life I had no passion for, that I was doing all of it for them and not for me.” She exhaled, remembering the gnawing dread that had lived in her chest back then, the slow suffocation of a future she didn’t want. “So, I quit.”
Ethan leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands. “And your parents didn’t take it well?”
