by DJ Jamison
Eric Holtz approached the sink and turned on the water. While Trent merely hovered near the sinks, Dr. Holtz set to sudsing up and rinsing his hands.
The better to pretend he’s not stalking you.
The administrator shook the water from his hands and grabbed a paper towel. He quickly swabbed his palms and tossed it in the trash, before turning to Trent.
“I’ve got to level with you, Dr. Cavendish,” he said, all pretense of why he was really in the restroom falling away.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Eric turned, leaning a hip against the sink. He looked Trent in the eye.
“I just came from a meeting about the clinic’s future. It’s not going to make it past your contract end date.”
“Damn, really? What about all these patients? There’s obviously a demand.”
Eric looked pensive. “Word came down last week that there’s a new medical group forming up to operate a clinic. They’ll fill the void, and frankly, it’ll operate better free of hospital politics bullshit.”
Trent blinked, surprised at Eric’s cynical tone. For a medical director, he wasn’t toeing the company line.
He grimaced. “Sorry, Dr. Cavendish, but I’ve been doing this job a long time, and it gets old. Do you know how long it took us to get a rural outreach screening set up? I mean, Jesus, it was just one week of volunteer work.”
“I know Marge said it was a long time coming.”
“Yeah, years. Ten fucking years, to be exact, before we had the programming and grants in place and could get the green light.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. We’ve got other fights, you know? We were never going to win in the philanthropy department. We fundraise plenty, but the truly meaningful shit just isn’t the PR the board seeks out.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because you’re a good surgeon, and the clinic is closing. We’re losing enough already. I’d like to hang on to you.”
“I’m one of a dozen good surgeons you could get on your team.”
“Maybe, but you’re the only one with long-term ties to Ashe. I know you grew up here. If I can get someone who isn’t going to jet in a year or two, my life will be easier. I did some digging, and I know what happened with the surgeon at your last hospital—”
“That’s none of your business,” Trent ground out.
Dr. Holtz held up his hands in peace. “I realize that. I was looking into your work history. I didn’t know what I was getting into, and I can see why it would shake you. But, Dr. Cavendish, everything else I heard was that you loved your work in the OR. You were one of their most gifted surgeons, they said. Aren’t you ready to get back to doing something you love, and something that you’re damned good at?”
Trent sighed. He had loved the OR. He’d loved it too much, and that’s what scared him. Now, with Xavier in the picture, maybe he could better balance the love of his work with his love of a good man. If only he could be sure he’d actually have the love of that man.
“Can I think about it?”
Holtz looked disappointed, but he nodded. “You have until summer, when your contract ends.”
“Thanks.”
Eric shook his hand. “I sure hope you join us.”
***
Xavier returned a protesting newborn to her mother, fresh from a gamut of tests and more than ready for her next meal—poor thing— and headed back down the hall to his babysitter nurse, Amy. Now that he was so far into his final year, he did most of the work without direct supervision. The nurse on staff assigned to supervise generally signed off on the paperwork and checked up on his work a time or two a day, but Xavier was essentially a nurse.
Finally.
He couldn’t wait until he was a nurse with a paycheck, and he was so close he could taste it. All the class hours, study groups and missed opportunities to sort out things with Trent would be worth it.
Amy was deep in conversation with another nurse, her hands flailing wildly as she talked. He grinned as he approached, ready to tease her about what drama the rumor mill was delivering on the maternity ward that day.
Then he caught the tail end of her sentence, and his heart stuttered.
“… closing the clinic already.”
“But if there’s another one opening in town, it makes sense,” the other nurse, Charlie, said.
Amy snorted. “Yeah, but do you know how many ER visitors they were able to divert to the clinic? That in itself is worth keeping a small one operating here. Now, we’re back to treating the flu. I’m sure the ER staff is thrilled with the news.”
Xavier found his voice, though it came out a bit weak. “The clinic is closing?”
“That’s the big news of the week,” Amy said. “You did your last rotation there, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, and Dr. Cavendish is my …” He faltered a moment as his brain flitted from one term to another: boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, friend. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My friend from high school. I’m surprised he didn’t tell me.”
Understatement of the century. How could he not fucking tell me? Is he leaving?
“The news came down a couple of days ago. It closes this summer, exactly one year from its opening date.”
“What about the staff?” he asked as he struggled to keep his panic in check.
He’s going to leave again. He hasn’t tried to call or text in days. This is why.
Amy answered. He heard her voice as if from a distance. Everything took on a hollow quality.
“Don’t know. Hospital may absorb some of them. Some might be let go, especially the support staff.”
“The staff were all in temporary one-year contracts, I heard,” Charlie added.
Amy made a rude noise. “They had their exit plan built right in.”
Xavier mumbled something about a bathroom break and fled the scene. He was dimly aware of Amy asking if he was okay, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to reassure her.
Without a job at the clinic, Trent didn’t have much reason to stay. He’d resisted any encouragement to join the surgical team in Ashe. He’d confessed to Xavier—after that surgery in Pullman— that the medical director had pressured him more than once to consider a position. Trent had refused every time.
Trent had told Xavier several times he’d realized the value of practicing in a clinic. Each time, he’d sounded like he was trying a little too hard to convince Xavier of something— that he could be the kind of man Xav would want, maybe?But Xavier didn’t need a clinical physician with predictable hours and the same dream of community outreach he had. He needed Trent— his flashy, ambitious Trent, who was dedicated to chasing his own dreams.
Dreams that would surely take him out of Ashe for good.
Changed man or not, Trent would need to put his career first when his job had just disappeared. Even if he hadn’t entirely changed— even if he was still a workaholic who put all his energy into being a doctor— was that really so bad? Xavier had loved that guy.
Xavier had asked for time to think, but he’d already let Trent back into his heart. He still loved that guy.
That’s why it hurt so much that Trent hadn’t at least told him about this. Explained why he couldn’t stay. Maybe if I’d made up my fucking mind, I’d have given him more of a reason to stay. Then again, maybe not. He’d given Trent everything back in high school and he’d still dumped Xavier when their future plans didn’t align.
He made his way to the break room and dug out his cellphone. He didn’t have much time; there was work to be done. He couldn’t talk to Trent—he’d lose his shit— but he couldn’t not reach out. Call him out on his cowardice for not even telling Xavier the truth.
He tapped out the message: Were you even going to tell me about the clinic? Or just leave without a word?
He waited a beat, and when a response wasn’t immediately forthcoming, he cursed under his breath and powered down the phone. He needed to work. Later, when he wa
s home, he would think about what it all meant. Come to terms with losing Trent.
Right now, he had a young mother in labor to examine. He never thought his fingers would end up on so many women’s vaginas. There was some kind of cosmic force at work here.
Maybe he should go straight. He was getting the lay of the land, whether he wanted it or not, and men weren’t exactly working out for him.
***
Trent checked his phone notifications when he finished up rounds. His heart fluttered, as it always did, when he saw that Xavier texted. They’d played phone tag for weeks, exchanging only the occasional text— usually about how Xavier was too busy to get dinner or drinks or accept whatever invitation Trent had extended.
He knew Xavier wanted space, but now that he didn’t see his ex-boyfriend at work on a regular basis, he was dying for a fix. He hadn’t been able to resist calling and texting.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. He hadn’t seen Xavier since that quick cafeteria lunch. Only Xavier’s regular responses indicated he wasn’t shutting out Trent completely.
Trent didn’t know whether to believe Xav was really too busy to have dinner with him or whether he was avoiding Trent because he didn’t want to get back together. But damn, the sparks between them on that trip had been as hot as ever. He wasn’t ready to give up.
Heart beating fast in anticipation, Trent opened the text and read the words.
Xavier: Were you even going to tell me about the clinic? Or just leave without a word?
Whoa. They were just words set out in type, but he knew instinctively that Xavier was furious with him.
Trent grabbed his belongings and headed out of the clinic. He couldn’t wait until he got home to talk to Xavier, so he hit the call button as he crossed the parking lot.
Voicemail.
He didn’t bother leaving a message. Xavier would see the missed call notification anyway. Instead, he leaned back against his car and composed a text, just in case Xavier was purposely ignoring his calls.
Trent: I’m not leaving
His fingers hovered as he debated saying more. He had a hell of a lot more to say. Things like, I love you, and Stop torturing both of us and just take me back. But none of that was text-appropriate conversation. He needed to see Xavier’s face. They’d made so much progress when they spent time in close quarters; he needed that intimacy with Xavier again so his ex had no choice but to confront his real feelings about Trent.
It was time to stop playing phone tag. He’d wanted to show he was willing to wait for Xavier, but that might have been a mistake. Maybe Xavier needed to see Trent fight for him. If so, he was about to get the show of a lifetime.
Trent got in the car and stared at his phone, willing it to buzz with a reply of some kind. It didn’t.
Five minutes later, he was halfway to Xavier’s apartment. It was time to stop the tug-of-war, will-he/won’t-he games. This limbo was killing him, and he suspected Xavier wasn’t any happier. It was time to figure out their shit.
Trent pressed down the gas pedal, accelerating through the last stoplight on the way to Xavier’s place.
He was going in there, and he was getting his man.
Chapter Fifteen
Xavier fell back on his habit of self-comfort. If he couldn’t have Trent, he at least wanted the consolation of silk sliding over his skin.
He rustled through his drawers, searching for just the right thing. He eyed a pair of lacy red underwear, but bypassed them. Even designed for men instead of women, with significantly more space in the crotch, those were more for looks than comfort.
He grabbed a pair of lavender shorts made of smooth silk and a lacy ivory chemise that hugged his torso; he might not have breasts but he had enough muscle on his frame to fill out the small top.
Figuring he might as well go all out, he grabbed his makeup bag and slid out eyeliner and a purple lipstick that he was usually too shy to wear in public but would go with his shorts.
The silk slid sensuously over his cock and balls with every move, raising goosebumps on his skin. There was something so freeing about letting this part of himself out.
His entire posture seemed to change when he was dressed his way. He moved with care, gliding instead of clomping. It made him think of all those silver screen goddesses back when Hollywood was more glamorous than trashy.
He applied his makeup and checked the full-length mirror on his closet door. He admired the effect, but his hair needed work. Pulling out the headband he used to pull it back while working, he let his dreads tumble down. His hair had been growing steadily if slowly since summer, and he admired the effect as it framed his face and softened his features.
He wasn’t trying to look like a woman. He had obvious stubble, but that’s half of what he liked. The contrast between his masculine and feminine sides; his expression of both halves of himself.
Satisfied, he stepped back and collapsed onto his bed. Now that the initial rush of dressing in the lingerie had faded, he felt hollow. He should be used to the feeling of Trent being lost to him, but he’d stupidly opened his heart and now he didn’t know how to close it.
A rap at the door startled him. “You have a visitor,” Zane called.
Xavier started to sit forward. Opened his mouth to call out a response. But all of that was thwarted when Zane shoved open the door without waiting.
His roommate stood in the doorway with Trent, staring.
“Whoa, X. I knew you liked to glam it up when clubbing, but this is a whole other level.”
Trent’s lips thinned in displeasure. “Don’t be an asshole. He looks gorgeous.”
Zane backed up, smirking. “Easy, Doc. I meant no disrespect to your man.”
Trent stepped inside without responding and closed the door behind him, effectively closing out Zane.
Xavier’s heart tripped. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you know I don’t make the same mistake twice."
Trent stalked toward the bed, and Xavier scrambled to stand up, feeling his cock shift around under the shorts. His cheeks heated as Trent’s eyes went directly to his dick before traveling slowly up his chest and returning to his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Xavier asked, aware he sounded breathless.
“Don’t play dumb, Xavier. We’ve been dancing around this for weeks. You’ve done all the talking, made all the decisions, and now it’s my turn.”
“So, say what you have to say.”
Trent’s gaze swept over him again. “I would, but goddamn, Xav. You’ve drained all the thoughts out of my head with this.”
He reached out and slid a finger under one thin strap on Xavier’s shoulder. He tugged it just enough that it slid down over Xavier’s bicep.
Trent licked his lips. “So sexy.”
“Trent,” Xavier pleaded.
He was begging for him to stop touching and start talking or maybe stop talking and touch more. Something besides this limbo they were in.
Trent wrapped a hand around the back of Xavier’s neck, grounding him.
“I fucking love you,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I’m not walking away ever again.”
He pulled Xavier into a kiss, much as he had that first day at the clinic, and Xavier’s resolve melted under the heat of Trent’s mouth.
The kiss was desperate. Fierce and painful. Teeth gashed his bottom lip, but it only enhanced the desire he felt to finally give in properly, without reservation. He opened his mouth, moaning as Trent immediately thrust his tongue inside, curling it around Xavier’s in a sinuous dance.
Silk slithered over his ass cheeks as Trent grabbed the fabric in two hands and pulled it up, exposing more skin. Xavier felt Trent’s cock hard against his lower belly and lifted up on his tiptoes so their cocks could meet.
Trent groaned, thrusting his hips harder against Xavier before they had to break for air.
Xavier looked at the man who’d torn his heart to shreds only to suture it back together. He
was still afraid a stitch would come loose and the whole thing would unravel, but he was helpless before those intense, captivating eyes and perfect cheekbones. Trent was classically handsome, traditional in every way, while Xavier was entirely unconventional. Could anything really work when they were so different?
“Don’t you fucking do that,” Trent said.
“Do what?” He hadn’t done anything other than look.
“You’re thinking of ways to push me away.”
“No, I—” Xavier stopped short. Okay, that was kind of true. “Busted,” he said with a strained smile.
Trent grasped his shoulders, but this time he guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, instead of into a passionate lip lock. Trent took a seat next to him, reaching out to hold his hand.
“Sorry. I’m not doing this right. I went all caveman when I saw those sexy clothes.” Trent looked into his eyes. “Xavier, I was young when I left here. I was driven, and I wanted to prove myself. I don’t need any of that anymore. I just need the one thing I left behind: you.”
“What if you resent that choice? Relationships are work, and the clinic is closing. All I need is to let you in only for you to dump my ass later to run after some awesome job. Because I’m never leaving my family, Trent. That hasn’t changed."
Xavier clenched his jaw, bracing for a painful answer. Trent squeezed his hand, and a little of his fear ebbed away.
“I’m mature enough now not to ask you to choose,” he said. “I won’t put you in that position again. I’ve got plenty of options. There are hospitals and clinics within an hour’s drive if something doesn’t work out in Ashe. I’ll either go back to the OR or I won’t, but I’m not leaving you behind.”
“But what if—”
Trent clapped a hand over his mouth. “I can see there’s only one thing I can do to convince you.”
Xavier lifted his eyebrows since he couldn’t talk.
