The blood pressure cuff beeped angrily and insistently. Spencer ignored it. "I'm not haranguing you, I'm lecturing you. You know better than that, Arabella Rose."
"Who the hell gave you permission to use my middle name,Theodore?" The blood pressure cuff kept beeping, so I added, "Will you do something with this thing?"
"It's telling me you're sick," he snapped, ripping it open. "Because youaresick, and you ignored it, and I can'tbelieveyou are so fucking stubborn, you bullheaded—"
"Is this part of the treatment plan? Harass your patient until they—"
"—arrogant little shit."
"—pass out from aggravation?"
He pinched my cheeks together with one hand, his jaw flexing. "I wish youwouldpass out from aggravation. I'd aggravate the hell out of you regularly if it would slow you the hell down."
I batted his hand away. "I hate you."
"I love it," he shot back with vindictive ease.
Liar. There wasn't anything lovable about me, and I hadn't harbored that pretense in a long time. If my parents couldn't love me, then who could? I was everything Spencer had said. I was a stubborn mule with no femininity, no grace, and no patience. Not for humans, anyway. I was better off alone with animals.
But Spencer had to be more stubborn than I was because I hadn't deterred him in the least. He pulled a stethoscope from the bag and tugged my oversized T-shirt collar until I sat up straighter. "Get over here, and for the love of Christ,do not talk. Just breathe." I ground my molars together, inhaling slowly. He guided me to sit forward, and pathetically, I had to lean against one of his strong arms while he used the other to fit the earbuds to his ears. He brought the diaphragm to rest against my back. "Deep breath, Ara. Deep as you can."
I obeyed, pulling in as much air as my sore lungs would allow. It caused me to cough again, but Spencer clearly had the patience of a saint. He waited, moving the bell along my back and down to my ribs as I breathed and coughed in intermittent spurts. He listened intently, and when I peeked at his face, I found him staring ahead in concentration. It wasn't fair, him being that attractive and competent at the same time. Not when I desperately needed to hate him.
It would have been easy to become lost in the feel of him in that moment. The way his strong, warm arm wrapped around me, and the other steadied my weight while he finished his examination—I nearly lost control and let my heart gallop away again. And when he sat me back against the pillows and placed the bell above my breast, I had to close my eyes to steel myself against my body's reactions to his nearness. I indulged in the fleeting vision of letting myself melt into his embrace, to have him hold me close to his solid body and promise me I was safe.
"Breathe," he reminded me softly.
Oops. I did, banishing the fantasy back into the ironclad mental box where it belonged. Finally, Spencer hung his stethoscope around his neck in a way that made me think it was a habit, and he rubbed his eyes with one hand. "You're a mess, Bee."
"So you've said," I scraped out.
"I can hear crackles in both lower lungs, and you have a wheeze on the intake, which I don't like. You're lucky I caught it when I did." His eyes were softer now, less accusatory and more concerned.
I looked down at my pale hands as they rested limply on my thighs. "It only got bad when you showed up."
He laughed and ended it with a perfunctory "Bullshit." He handed me the water bottle again. "You can't con a pediatrician. I've heard it all."
"Aren't your patients a little young to talk back?" I mumbled.
"I wasn't always a neonatologist. I got into that after COVID. But I did peds rounds at the hospital for two years before specializing. Can you drink all of that or is your throat too swollen?"
Spencer had never really shared much about his personal life with me. And now, he was watering a parched houseplant. I wanted more. "Do you… like it?" I ventured to ask. That was too personal, wasn't it? Was I crossing a line?You fucked him, Ara. Why the hell are you worrying about boundaries?
"I did," he hedged. He lifted the water bottle to my lips like the bossy doctor he was. "But I've been considering a different specialty lately."
I swallowed, winced, and decided that was enough water for the next… week. "Which one?" Maybe I could distract him.
He lifted the water again, staring at me pointedly. "Drink, Bee, or I am not kidding around. I'll stick you and have you on fluids for the next three days."
"Fucking hell," I muttered. Gamely, I brought the water to my lips, and despite the burn and the fact that I choked it up a few times, I downed the entire water bottle. And then I felt like puking. "Oh, God."
He pressed me back into the pillows. "No vomiting. I'll get you some more medicine in a bit."
"No thank you," I croaked.
He smiled faintly, placing his cool hand against my warm forehead. "Close your eyes. Get some rest. I've got you."
I've got you. Such innocuous words, and yet, they hit my bloodstream like epinephrine. My heart jumpstarted, and while I tried to ignore it, I found that it was impossible. He was in my system, now, and if time hadn't flushed those feelings out, then I had to admit what I'd feared for a long time.
