Doctor Love

Chapter 13

DAVID'S POV

I was cutting through the east wing after rounds, taking the long way back to my office, when I saw Kate. In the rec room. Her laughter floated through the doorway like music, soft, genuine, unrestrained. The kind of laugh she'd never once directed at me.

With that small guy. Frank.

I halted mid-stride. My pulse stuttered, then accelerated like I'd been shocked. Something visceral and unfamiliar twisted beneath my ribs.

He was offering her a gift. A small box wrapped in crimson paper with a delicate white ribbon. Cliché and sentimental, exactly the kind of gesture I'd mock relentlessly. Yet her fingers traced the edges with reverence, as if the paper itself was precious.

"So what do you say, doc? Can we date?” Frank's voice was steady but vulnerable.

She was silent.

I didn't realize I'd moved until I was already three steps into the room, the sound of my breathing suddenly too loud in my own ears.

She must have sensed the shift in air. Kate turned, quick, instinctive, and I retreated on pure reflex, ducking back behind the doorframe. My heart hammered against my chest, the sensation entirely foreign.

Silence stretched between them. I couldn't see her face, couldn't read her answer. Then, I heard footsteps, and she emerged from the room, lips pressed together, lost in thought. Without the gift.

I reached for her before I could stop myself. "Kate."

Her head snapped up, startled eyes meeting mine.

"We need to talk." I guided her down the corridor, past curious eyes and listening ears, my fingers circling her wrist a shade too tight.

"David, what are you doing?" She tried to pull away, but I held firm.

"You can't possibly be entertaining this."

Her expression hardened. "Entertaining what, exactly?"

"Him. Frank. The patient who just asked you out. The one you were flirting with."

"I wasn't flirting."

"Really? Because from where I stood—"

"Where you stood?" Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Were you spying on me?"

"Don't change the subject." I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Dating patients crosses every ethical line in medicine. You know that."

"Frank is being discharged next week. And kindness isn't flirting, David. Though I wouldn't expect you to know the difference."

The barb stung more than it should have. "There's kindness, and then there's whatever that was. Gift exchanges? Private giggles? Please."

"Why do you even care?" Her chin lifted defiantly.

"Because it's unprofessional."

"No. Try again."

I scoffed, running a hand through my hair. "Fine. You want honesty? It's obvious what's happening. You saved his life, and now he thinks he's in love with you. Classic hero worship. But what's your angle?"

Her brow furrowed. "My angle?"

"Come on, Kate. Apparently, Frank is from a wealthy family. You think I can't see what's really going on here?"

The slap came so fast I didn't even see her hand move. Just felt the sharp crack against my cheek, the sting blooming hot across my skin.

"How dare you." Her voice trembled with fury.

I blinked, stunned into silence.

"You think I care about his money?" She laughed, a harsh, wounded sound. "I grew up in a trailer park in Westfield, David. My father worked double shifts at the steel mill just to keep the lights on. I got into med school on academic scholarship and worked nights at the hospital cafeteria just to afford textbooks."

Something in her eyes shifted from anger to something worse.

"While you were what? Getting chauffeured to your private prep school? Having daddy foot the bill for your Ivy League education?"

"Don't bring my father into this—"

"Why not? He's the reason you're here, isn't he? The great Prof. Villa’s son, following the legacy. Tell me, what would happen if he cut you off tomorrow? What would you have that you actually earned?"

My jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The corridor suddenly felt too small, the air too thin.

Her voice softened, not with kindness but with clarity. "All that arrogance, all that swagger, it's just compensation. You're terrified of disappointing him."

"You don't know what you're talking about," I snapped, but the words sounded hollow even to me.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about." She stepped closer, close enough that I could see the flecks in her blue eyes. "The difference between us, David, is that I built myself from nothing. Everything I have, my education, my skills, my position here, I earned it. Can you say the same?"

Each word landed like a precise incision, exposing everything I'd spent years burying. I wanted to fire back, to wound her the way she'd wounded me, but nothing came.

She turned sharply, her shoulders rigid with anger as she strode away, heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor.

Then, mid-step, she faltered. Her right knee buckled, giving way beneath her like a support beam suddenly removed.

"Kate?" My voice changed, the anger instantly replaced by something colder, more primal.

She tried to catch herself against the wall, her palm slapping against it weakly. Her face drained of color so rapidly it was as if someone had pulled a plug.

"What's wrong?" I was already moving, closing the distance between us in three long strides. "Kate, what is it?"

She turned toward me, lips parting to speak, but no sound emerged. Her eyes, usually so sharp and focused, struggled to fix on mine. Her pupils dilated, then contracted.

"I—" she managed, before her eyelids fluttered.

Her body folded like origami coming undone, and I caught her against my chest, the weight of her suddenly in my arms.

"Kate!" I lowered her to the floor, medical training kicking in even as panic surged through me. "I need help here! NOW!"

Her face, peaceful now against my arm, gave no indication of the fire that had burned there moments before. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest told me she was still with me.

Still here.

For now.