Page 28 of Hate To Want You
But when we reach the on-call room for attendings on our floor, I realize the fatal flaw in my suggestion.
There’s only one fucking bed.
Chapter thirteen
Heidi
“I’ll take the chair,” I say quickly, moving to the small, yet thankfully, padded chair.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You take the bed. I can stretch out on the floor.”
I look at Max like he’s crazy. “Says the man who’s been wincing and limping all day? Dream on, Donnelly.”
His lips split into a brief smile. “Resorting to last names only, Morgan? I see how it is.”
I let out a huff, but secretly, I’m loving this relaxed intimacy between us. “Okay, compromise. We can share the freaking bed. We’re adults, aren’t we?”
Max’s eyes flare with something indiscernible in the low light of the on-call room. Do I regret offering to share the small bed? Not really, if I’m being honest with myself. The alternatives both suck if we want any hope of getting some sleep in between going to check on Teagan.
“You don’t think that’s a little inappropriate? You’re my resident,” he says softly.
“We both need to get some sleep, Max, or we’ll be no good for Teagan. I promise you, I’m fine sharing the bed. I trust you.”
Those three words seem to help, but I forge on, determined to diffuse his tension. My shoulders lift and fall, and I give him an impish grin. “But if you really want to sleep on a hospital floor —” I let him see me shudder slightly “— go for it. But that’s pretty disgusting. You know what’s on that floor.”
He stalks over to the bed, standing there with his hands on his hips, staring at it, as if he could will it to be bigger, or make another one materialize. I cautiously approach and sit down on the mattress in front of him, patting the spot beside me.
“It’s fine, Max. I won’t bite.”
His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as his stare zeroes in on my mouth. I might not bite, but I might wanthimto…
Oh boy. Time to stop this train of thought. I kick off my shoes and shuffle back until my head is leaning against the headboard.
“Come on. I’m not tired yet, so we can just sit and relax for a while before we check on T.”
Finally, I see some tension leave his body. He toes off his shoes and sits down at the foot of the bed. Seeing him there, his legs crossed in front of him, his body leaning sideways against the wall, it’s easy to forget this is the man who treated me so poorly these last several weeks.
“What made you decide to become a pediatrician?”
His lips tip up in a smile, but it’s tinged with sadness. I wait and watch as he flips his phone around in his hand. I’m coming to realize that’s his thinking habit. He’s a fidgeter, always needing something in his hands to move around.
“The human body has always fascinated me. I was the kid who wanted to play doctor and loved going for checkups and seeing all the instruments in the clinic. When my brother broke his arm, I begged my mom to let me save the X-ray films. I thought it was amazing that we could see inside our bodies like that. So, medicine was always my plan.”
He pauses, and I can tell from the faraway look on his face that he’s caught up in memories. But the haunted expression that comes over him is unexpected and makes me yearn to offer comfort.
“My best friend growing up had a brother. The three of us were pretty tight. Hell, most of the time I preferred them to my own damn brothers. Even though he was older, Callum was small, and he always preferred to play with us rather than kids his own age. He couldn’t always keep up if we were playing tag or soccer, but he was a great scorekeeper. Except he got sick a lot. If any of us had a cold, he couldn’t play; we couldn’t even go to their house. He kept going in and out of the hospital, and Quinn — my best friend — would come and stay with us. I didn’t really get it until we were older, when he had a particularly bad episode. That’s when my mom sat me down and told me Callum would never get better.”
“He had CF,” I say quietly, all the pieces of the puzzle that is Max Donnelly clicking into place. “That’s why Teagan is so special to you.”
Max just nods. “I got to see him just before he passed. I promised him I’d be a doctor, and I’d help kids like him get better. Fuck, he was so wise, he knew that was impossible, but he just smiled at me and told me I’d be a great doctor. I didn’t think I’d actually end up in pediatrics, though”
I want to ask why, but I also don’t want to push things. As silence falls between us, I’m struck by the similarities in our stories of how we ended up as doctors. Even though my path had a few more twists and turns, the underlying motivation — to help kids — was because we couldn’t helpone particular kid.
“When we moved to the mainland, I got a job at BC Children’s Hospital,” I start to say, then stop, unsure how Max will handle even an offhand mention of Thad. But he just gives me a nod to continue. “There was an opening on the oncology ward, so I did the upgrades in training so I could work there. At the time, I thought it would be a great experience, something I could take with me to any hospital if Thad decided we had to move again.”
I give Max credit, he says nothing. Just gives me the space to get it all out.
“While I was there, I met Molly. The brightest, boldest, most optimistically realistic teenager I’ve ever come across.” A smile creeps across my face as my head fills with images of Molly. Her smile, the colourful scarves she loved to wear, and the way she always had us all laughing. “I knew better than to let myself get attached, but she made it impossible not to. Every shift I’d request her assignment if she was admitted, which sadly, was often. Leukemia ravaged her body over the course of a year and a half.”
