Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Jamie, did Everleigh tell you I took her virginity?” Will leans against my dirty truck.
Her eyes widen, gaze aimed at me.
I shrug. “I assumed you told him. It’s been weeks.”
“Yes. She told me. And she wanted me to tell you she’d like to get coffee sometime. It slipped my mind. Sorry.”
“You . . . t-took Dr. Reichart’s v-card?” Maren chokes on her coffee. “When was this? Last week? How old is she?”
Will frowns. “She was in medical school. I was in California for the summer.”
“Was she legal?” Maren prods.
“She. Was. In. Medical school.” Will huffs an exaggerated breath.
“I heard you.” Maren claps her hands with each word. “Was. She. Legal?”
Jamie chews on the inside of her cheek, gaze ping-ponging between Maren and Will.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “I don’t know. Who the hell gets into med school before they turn eighteen?”
“Everleigh Reichart.” Jamie cringes when Will eyes her with a scowl. “And can I add that she thinks you broke her heart? So if you meet for coffee, just be careful.”
“How did it get brought up? Did you two have a little extra time between patients and decide to compare notes and names about your first times having sex?” Will’s failing miserably at containing his frustration.
“I can speak from experience—as a victim, that is—that Jamie talks about other people’s sex lives a lot at work,” I say.
“Fitz!” Jamie shakes her head. “That is not true.”
“She tried to get me to raise one of the other nurses’ kids as my own.”
Maren and Will snort.
“I have to pee. I may or may not be back.” Jamie’s eyes shoot daggers at me before pivoting and stomping her sneakers toward the door.
“How did she not kill you in Florida?” Maren scolds me with a tsking noise.
“Luck,” I mumble. “I’m grabbing coffee. Want any, Will?”
“No thanks. Maren, come hold this while I mark it.”
I no sooner get my K-Cup in the machine than Jamie comes downstairs whistling.
“I need you to stop thinking you can fix me. I’m not broken.” I retrieve a mug from the shelf.
Her jovial spirit dies, and she runs her hands through her hair, untangling it. “Where is this coming from?”
“From you asking Will about my family.”
“Fine.” She slips her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. “Then I’ll ask you: Are you estranged from your family?”
“Yes. Satisfied now?” I focus on the coffee dripping into my mug.
“Why?”
“You’re not my therapist. You’re not even a therapist.”
“I’m not trying to give you therapy.”
“Great. Then drop it.” I sip my coffee and turn toward her.
She steps beside me with her hands on the counter’s edge while watching Maren and Will cutting the siding by the garage. “Do you think about our weekend in Miami?”
“What are you doing?” I don’t want to think about Miami. And I definitely don’t want to talk about it.
“I do. And I think, for someone who keeps all used condoms and counts every sperm, you dropped the ball in Miami. What would you do if I were pregnant? Did you go to your follow-up appointment after your procedure to see if you’re truly sterile? Would you never tell me about your family? Would our child never know his family?” She turns with her chin up and expectant wide eyes.
I face her and sip my coffee while weighing my words. There’s no way to sugarcoat this. “I’d tell you to get rid of it.”
She flinches.
“You think you know me, but you don’t. I’m not an open book. I will never be an open book. Not for you. Not for Will or Maren. Not for anyone.”
No tears escape, but I see them in her reddening eyes while she grits her teeth. And I’m sorry, really fucking sorry, but I won’t mince words. I can’t let her think some door to my past has been cracked open when it hasn’t.
“I’m not trying to be cruel. I’m being direct and honest.” I grip my coffee tighter and slip my other hand into my pocket to keep from touching her.
She swallows hard. “You said I’m your person. Your best person. You said I’m yours.”
“You are.”
Her whole body deflates.
“So you can imagine how personal and completely off limits this part of my life is when I won’t share it with my best person, when I would tell my best person to get rid of a child if something like that happened. I will not let my existence, or lack thereof, be a significant part of another human’s life.” I glance out the window to ensure Maren and Will don’t sneak in on us.
“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” I sip more coffee and set the mug on the counter.
“Then you have no reason to keep things from your friends.”
“I’m not afraid. I simply don’t want to share. Fear implies I feel threatened by the possible consequences. I don’t. I just don’t want to share. It’s that simple. What are you afraid of?”