Page 12 of Dirty Doctor
Bella: That proves nothing. See you later.
I look around, admiring the view of the forest from my window. It really is beautiful here. Quiet, peaceful, serene. A stark difference from what my life was like a week ago.
I think back to Luke’s words that first day.
Low blood sugar.
High blood pressure.
Undernourished, and deficient in most vitamins and minerals.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I examine what happened that day now that I’m finally out of the hospital and can have a moment of peace. I’d been stressed since being let go of my admin job last month. I wasn’t eating. I was staying up way too late worrying and applying to interior design jobs, and making up for it by drinking multiple cups of coffee in the morning, which then perpetuated the cycle of not being able to sleep.
Bella was usually gone most of the day at work, so I often left the house and pretended to be busy to take my mind off of the fact that I could only afford rent for another month or two. When I did eat, I would get the cheapest thing possible—processed food, fast food, and then more coffee.
I knew I wasn’t on a good trajectory. But I was, and still am, stressed.
The days leading up to the interview with Kellan Smith were miserable. I had one shot to snag my dream job, and this was it.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Luke getting me another interview with Kellan means more to me than anything else.
I check my email and make sure to shoot Kellan’s assistant an email confirming my interview on Thursday, which is in five days. Lying down, I must fall asleep because the light in the room is different than before, and someone is knocking on the door.
“Come in,” I say, groggily sitting up.
Luke opens the door and peeks in, with some folded clothes in his hand. “I brought you some of my sweatpants and a sweatshirt, if you want to take a shower,” he offers, walking over and setting them down.
I smile. “Thanks. How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours.”
I glance at my phone, picking it up. My eyes widen. It’s after four in the afternoon.
I pat the clothes he set down on the bed. “Bella is going to drop off my stuff later, but it’ll be nice to get the hospital germs off of me.”
He frowns. “Germs?”
I wrinkle my nose. “You’re biased.”
His lips twitch with the hint of a smile, and then he shakes his head. “Anyways, I’m going out to grab some groceries. Is there anything I can pick up for you?”
I shake my head. “Just coffee.”
He smirks. “I have a gallon bag of espresso,” he adds, crossing his arms. He looks down at me. “There are towels in your bathroom. There should be shampoo and conditioner, too.
“Thanks.” I run my hand over the red pillow. “What’s with all the red? How did I not know it was your favorite color?”
He narrows his eyes at that. “The red?”
I gesture to the room. Scowling, his eyes scan the things I’m pointing to. I almost miss it when they land on my hair, and he catches me watching him.
“I should go,” he growls, turning and leaving the room before I can connect the pieces out loud.
Did he just…
I reach up and run my hands over my red hair, my heart pounding in my chest.No.There’s no way. He hates me—always has.Hasn’t he?
I stand up and look out the window, watching as he angrily storms to his car. He looks up and makes eye contact with me, and I’m glad he can’t hear me because I gasp at his expression. His eyes look black from up here, and he stares at me for a second too long, confirming my suspicions. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are white as he grips the door of his Tesla. In one swoop, he climbs in and reverses.
