Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(73)

Hell. No. I'm not going there. That's what girlfriends are for.

"Jesus Christ. Just leave," she says, pushing me out the door. "Forget I said anything."

"Oh, thank God," I mumble, eliciting an eye roll and shove from Avery.

I walk briskly through the hospital, hoping to avoid anyone who may try and stop me. The elevator dings and I step into the parking garage.

If it's nice out, I usually walk to work since it's so close. I'm thankful I was called in early and decided to drive, because I would hate to walk home after the day I've had.

My phone rings as I’m starting up the car, and when I slide it out of my pocket and see Harley's beautiful face light up my screen, my entire body comes to life.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Happy birthday!" she says excitedly. "I've been waiting all day to tell you that, but you never called. I'm guessing you had a rough day?"

I drop my head back on the seat and moan. "You have no idea. Sorry I didn't get a chance to call you. I barely got a lunch."

"No worries," she replies casually. "If anyone can understand what a horrible day in the ER is like, it's me." Harley amazes me around every turn. Just another one of those little things I love about her.

"What's Max doing?" I ask, yawning on the last word.

"He, uh…he, um…he's outside. He's outside playing." She sounds off—distracted almost.

I can hear pots clanging in the background and then a huge thud. "Shit!" she hisses, the phone going static.

"Harley? You okay?"

"Yup! Yup, all good." Her reply is rushed and she sounds out of breath. "What time are you coming over? I was hoping maybe sixish," she grunts. What the hell is she doing?

Fuck. I was hoping to get a nap in before I head over there. I look down at my watch—four-thirty. "Can we make it seven?" I ask hopefully.

"Seven?" She sighs, her disappointment evident. "Umm…sure. Okay. Yeah. No problem." I hate that she sounds upset. I know it's my birthday and she wants to celebrate—which, believe me, I'm all for—but I'm f*cking exhausted.

"Are you sure?" I question. "Because I can come sooner if—”

"Nope. Don't even worry about it. I'll see you at seven."

I hate the thought of disappointing her. I'll just wait until Max goes to bed and make it up to her then. Just thinking about what I want to do to her turns me on. Fuck. I should just stay awake and go over there now. But then I'll probably fall asleep at the same time Max does, and that's just not going to work. "Alright, baby. I'll see you at seven. I love you."

"See you then." She ends the call and my heart constricts. Harley still hasn't said those three little words, and I've wondered several times if I said them too soon. Who wouldn’t? Her reaction to my declaration of love is always positive—she nuzzles in close and makes the sexiest little purring sounds—but I just wish she would say it back.

I don't want her to tell me she loves me if she doesn't mean it, but I know she feels the same way. I can see it in her eyes when they soften at my voice. I can feel it in the way her hands cradle my face, and in the way her lips move gently over mine when she needs to be close. I hear it every time her heart pounds in her chest when I tell her I love her. I just need her to see it, and feel it…and say it.

Patience. I need to have patience. This is part of the process. I asked for the opportunity to make things up to her, and this is part of that. I need to build and gain her trust, proving to her that this time, when she hands me her heart, I'm going to cherish it like the special gift that it is.

I punch in the code and the gate to the underground parking garage at my condo rises. Walking through the door, I toss my keys on the counter and throw my lab coat on the couch. Walking down the hall, I tear off my scrub top and then undo the drawstring on my pants, letting them fall in a heap on the floor. I'm not usually one to leave a trail of clothes, but I'll get them later—after I nap.

Sleep, I sigh, falling face-first onto my mattress, wishing that I would've taken the time to strip off my boxers. Reaching over, I slap my hand against the nightstand until it connects with the fan remote. I flick it on low and everything goes black.



HOT. IT'S FUCKING HOT in here. I turn over roughly, kicking the sheet off of me, and sit up, rubbing my heavy eyes. I probably could have slept straight through the night, but I need to get to Harley's. Reaching across the bed, I search for my phone, sitting up abruptly when it's not in its usual place. Crap. It's in my lab coat. I slide out of bed and jog into the living room, where I hear my phone alarm going off.

"DAMNIT!" I growl, noticing the time. Eight o'clock. Fuck.

I shoot Harley a quick text, letting her know that I overslept and that I'll be there shortly. Peeling off my boxers, I turn on the faucet and step in once the water is warm. I rush through my routine, easily taking the quickest shower I've ever taken, all the while chastising myself for oversleeping.

"Idiot. I'm an idiot," I mumble to myself, reaching for the pair of jeans that I know is Harley's favorite. I yank on a light blue polo, step into my Chucks, and I'm out the door in ten minutes flat.

Merging onto the interstate, I pull out my phone, hoping to see a response from Harley. Nothing. I should have gone straight to her house after work. My hands tighten on the steering wheel in frustration while my foot pushes lightly on the gas pedal, needing to get to her faster.