He’d been running for an office of some sort my entire life.
“Great.” Dad dropped his napkin on the empty plate and checked his watch. “I’ll see you two later.” He kissed me on the top of the head before my mom stood, gathered her things, and trailed after him.
“Classic setup,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.
Braden eyed me up and down and then reached for his water. “So—”
“No.” I interrupted him. “We aren’t doing this. Not now, not ever.”
“But it’s what your dad wants, and don’t you want him to be happy? How would it look if you abandoned me, after agreeing to keep me company during lunch?”
Shoot. That’s what I’d agreed to?
“Besides, your dad wanted us to talk about the benefit.”
“No.” I shook my head again and stared at my reflection in my spoon. My lips looked slightly swollen from last night, and my skin was flushed. It was like even my body couldn’t get rid of Thatch, no matter how many times my brain told it to stop responding.
Stop caring.
My heart thumped wildly in my chest. “You know,” I said, standing and pushing my chair back, “we’ll catch up later.”
“Austin.” Braden’s jaw clenched. “Sit. Down.”
It was horrible, how my body immediately responded, because it was so ingrained in me to listen, to be a good girl.
The minute my butt hit the chair, I popped right back up, grabbed my purse, and left.
I ran.
Away from him.
Away from the man who’d emotionally abused me.
And away from the memories that always made me feel like less of a person.
The really sad part?
I’d replaced Braden with someone just as bad.
Thatch was no better.
Braden wanted me, but he was like a poison to my heart and soul; I would be miserable with him.
Thatch wanted sex—not me—and yet I was drawn to him, to all of him. He wanted me probably about as much as he wanted to catch a cold—he proved that much this morning.
Shoulders slumping, I walked slowly to my car, got in, and banged my head against the steering wheel.
The only positive in my day came later when I discovered a few more people following my blog.
I needed to finish my assignment and get the hell away from Thatch before our relationship turned into a situation where I lost myself again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THATCH
I didn’t text.
I didn’t call.
I didn’t chase.
Not because I didn’t want to do all of those things—but because I knew that it wouldn’t be enough. Austin had woken up to an empty apartment and assumed the worst—who wouldn’t? But it wasn’t like I wanted to tell her about my alcoholic father.
Because she’d ask questions.
And I’d tell her, because I’d been carrying all of the stress for so long; I knew it was only a matter of time before I blurted everything out.
I eyed the clock in the corner. She was supposed to come in today by two.
It was two thirty.
I closed my eyes and waited for my office door to open, and when it didn’t, I went over to it and jerked it open myself, looking up and down the hall for any sign of her dark-brown hair or long legs.
Hanging my head, I was just getting ready to turn back around when I saw a flash of dark hair down the hall and then, she was walking toward me. Her face in a tight smile, her body hugged by a beautiful black wrap dress, and her chin held high.
So she was going to play it that way, huh?
Angry Austin was a thing to behold.
Fucking gorgeous.
Wild.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from charging toward her and tugging her into the closest exam room.
When she finally stopped in front of me, I pointed to my office and said, “We need to talk.”
She stiffened. Hell.
“Dr. Holloway?” Mia’s soft voice sounded behind me. “Your two thirty is ready for you.”
I gritted my teeth together. “Be right there.”
Austin’s eyebrows shot up. She crossed her arms. “Well, don’t keep the world waiting, Dr. Holloway.” I hated that the way she said my name affected me so much, physically and emotionally.
“Come on.” I didn’t give her a chance to argue. Besides, she needed stuff for her blog? She was in for a wild ride with this client.
Miranda had been a patient at the practice for about ten years, and every year, there was just one more thing she thought she needed done, no matter how many times any of us told her she didn’t.
I opened the door and swept in. “Miranda, this is Austin Rogers. She’s a local grad student shadowing me. Will it be alright for her to listen in on our appointment?”
Miranda smiled. Her face was shot to hell with fillers—ones that Troy had no doubt given her and charged an arm and a leg for since I refused to give her any more. “Of course, that’s lovely.”
Miranda was a gorgeous woman, but few of her parts were still natural, and with her pushing seventy, it worried me to put her under the knife again. Surgery became riskier and riskier the older the patient.
“So, what did you want to discuss?” I pulled out a seat.
Miranda wasn’t a typical appointment. She didn’t come in for a regular consult. Rather, she came in and asked me to basically look at her from head to toe and tell her where I thought adjustments should be made, and ever since I had first seen her two years ago and got the lowdown from Troy on her past, I would tell her, You’re perfect, go eat a cookie.
“A breast augmentation, maybe some Botox?” She actually blushed. “Remember a few weeks ago when I came in for a consult and . . .” She glanced at Austin, then back at me, her jet-black curly hair bouncing on her shoulders with the movements. “Troy said that I could benefit from a few things, and I just . . . I wanted a second opinion.”
I sighed. “You don’t need to worry about me telling him that you used me as a second opinion, and since I have Austin in here, there’s no need to grab one of my nurses. Why don’t you show me what you’re talking about, hmm?”
What followed was a painfully long hour filled by me convincing her she didn’t need anything done, and her arguing with me over what my partner had said.
“Listen.” I rubbed my tired eyes with the back of my hand. “All I’m saying is that surgically, your breasts don’t need the lift. If you need it emotionally in order to feel better, that’s an entirely different thing, alright?”
She left.
Thank God.
But that meant the next two appointments were going to run into each other.
Austin didn’t say anything as I breezed by her; she just followed, damn it. I was itching to talk to her, to explain myself, to do anything, and the worst part? Every time I made eye contact with her, her stare back was so hollow, I wanted to punch something.
Mia walked by us, handed Austin two granola bars and me a folder, and winked.
She deserved a raise.
I devoured the bar, knocked on the door, and introduced myself, and in that moment, knew I was absolutely, completely screwed.
Austin’s mom stared back at us wide-eyed and then blushed bright red. “Austin?”
“Mom?”
Oh look! Hell!
Chapter Twenty-Six