by Hamel, B. B.
But this is where I am and this is who I am.
When I heal, it’s back to work.
And back to being just another pawn in my father’s master plan.
2
Brent
“Goodnight, Brent,” Rachel says.
“Night, Rach.”
I barely notice her leave as I lean back in my chair. It’s a little past nine at night and the clinic is pretty much empty now except for me. I think Roger might still be working late, but his office is on the other side of the building.
As far as I’m aware, I’m alone in here. I flip through my files until I come to Amber Gibbins. I smile a little bit as I open it.
Pretty girl. Funny and nice, too. She was flirting with me, that much was obvious, and I didn’t do much to discourage her. Truthfully, I found her attractive, really fucking attractive. Long, dark hair, round face with thick lips and full, perky breasts. Her ass is tight and her legs are long and lean. I’m a doctor and I’m supposed to keep these feelings to myself… but I’m also a fucking human and a man.
I can’t help it if she’s goddamn gorgeous.
Still, putting my hands on her was just part of the job. Well, maybe looking at her body the way I did went a little bit beyond professionalism, but whatever.
Something’s nagging at me though. I flip through her file and keep reading it. The cause of the break is listed as a car accident, but when I get to her imaging, a few things jump out at me.
The positioning of her breaks and the severity of them are a little… odd.
I’ve seen breaks like these before. They’re not impossible or even all that uncommon, although they are typically incredibly debilitating and painful. But I normally see breaks like this on bad fall victims. People that fall from a roof, for example, or rock climbers that screw up. Sometimes you see it in an older person that fell down the steps.
Car accident just doesn’t make sense to me. The more I look at it, the more I’m convinced it’s from a fall. There were other injuries noted, though they were all minor compared to the leg.
“Amber, Amber, Amber,” I say to myself. “What the hell happened to you?”
Something just isn’t squaring with me. I grab my laptop and dash off a quick email to the attending that looked after her in the hospital. Chuck, how’s it going? Listen, I got that patient you referred to me, Amber Gibbins. I have to ask, what’s the deal with her? The file says car accident, but the injury doesn’t seem consistent. Let me know. And drinks next weekend if you’re not busy. Brent.
I send it off and start doing some other administrative work. The job never ends. Running your own clinic is a great and rewarding thing, but there’s a ton of work that goes along with it. I got into this job to help people, not to make money.
Frankly, I don’t need money. I have plenty of it, more than I’ll ever need. I became a doctor because I wanted to make something of myself instead of just sitting around and taking from my family.
Now though, I’m a glorified admin. I need to do something about that, hire someone to take care of this stuff. For now though, it’s all on me.
As I pack up to leave just before ten, I see an email on my phone. It’s from Chuck. “I guess you work late, too,” I say to myself.
Brent, you noticed that, huh? I thought the same thing. Kid showed up with some minor bruising on her arms and a sprained wrist. It all was consistent with a bad fall, maybe down some steps, but she insisted that it was a car accident. Her father backed her story up. And to be totally honest, the leg was so bad we just accepted the story and tried to treat her. Poor kid. How’s she doing? Drinks for sure. I’ll text you. Chuck.
I frown a little bit at that, but it doesn’t surprise me. Big hospitals like the one Chuck works for aren’t going to investigate every single patient they get. If there’s any sign of abuse or something obviously wrong, they’ll send the case on to the proper authorities, but there’s nothing like that with Amber.
Really, there’s just a story that doesn’t match her injuries. There could be any number of reasons to lie.
But I just have a bad feeling about this one.
I lean back and close my eyes. I think about my hands on her leg… and the way she looked at me when I touched her.
There was desire in her eyes. I’m not making that up.
“Amber, what are you doing?” I whisper.
I close the file, stand up, and head out for the night.
* * *
One week passes and Amber keeps popping back into my mind.
I thought I’d forget her. Just another pretty girl with an odd little inconsistency in her story. No big deal, it happens all the time. But I just can’t stop thinking about the looks she was giving me and that strange injury.
I feel something for her. I don’t know what it is yet, but I feel it.
When she finally comes in again, I feel oddly excited to see her. She’s wearing dark yoga pants again and a white t-shirt. She looks gorgeous, her dark eyes shining as I smile at her. She limps over, leaning too much on the cane. I can see the pain in her eyes, even if she is good at hiding it.
“How are you today?” I ask.
“Okay. I’ve been doing those exercises.”
“Yeah? Really? There’s no punishment if you didn’t.”
She laughs. “Maybe I need a punishment. I mean, for motivation.”
I chuckle and meet her eye. “I don’t know. If you’re doing them already, you have enough motivation.”
She blushes a little and I think she realizes what she just said. “Right. Of course.”
I take her into exam room one and help her onto the table. We do the same thing, I take her vitals and such, before I sit down in a chair.
“So, tell me and be honest. How many days did you do the exercises?”
“Every day,” she says. “Seriously. My leg’s aching, but I’ve been doing them.”
“Good.” I lean toward her. “Aching how bad?”
“Worse than before. It’s like I’m… tired? I don’t know.”
“You could’ve pushed it too hard. Was there any pain worse than normal?”
“Once. I stopped though.”
“What were you doing? Show me.”
She demonstrates the move from her seated position. I know what she’s doing instantly.
“It was that,” she says. “Felt it on the down move and had to stop.”
“Okay. Let’s cut that one out for now. Ready to get in there?”
“Ready.”
I help her down and she limps along next to me. She’s small, about five foot four at most. I’m over six foot, so helping her along is pretty easy. I take most of her weight, not hesitant about touching her body.
We head into the gym and I take her right over to some open space. “Let’s start with some light stretching,” I say.
She nods and we get to work. My hands are all over her body as I warm her muscles up. I try not to let my carnal, base thoughts invade my mind but it’s hard not to when I’m touching a body like this.
“Does that hurt?” I ask, pushing her leg back.
She shakes her head, biting her lip. Fuck, it’s a sexy look. I push the thought away.
“Are you sure?” I press.
“A little,” she says, letting out a breath.
“Okay, and down,” I release her. “You can be honest with me, you know. I need to learn your limits.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I smile at her, head cocked. “We need to learn to work together.”
She smiles back. “You’re right.”
We make small talk as I finish stretching her out. She’s funny when she relaxes and lets her guard down. I like it when she smiles at me, when she makes some wry little joke. I can’t help but laugh, and not even the fake, friendly laugh I reserve for some clients that bore me to tears.
The session goes smoothly. I transition her from stretching to some strength work. I keep it easy and light beca
use I can tell working too hard makes her exhausted. By the time we’re done, she’s sweating a little bit, just a light sheen on her otherwise gorgeous skin. She sits with her back against the wall and rubs her leg.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine. Just not used to this. It’s weird not being able to do simple stuff.”
“I know. But you’ll get there.”
“It’s just frustrating. I want my life back.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I stretch and let out a breath. “The thing is, I see mostly old people here, if I’m honest. Your injury is pretty bad, but seriously, you’re so young. You’re going to heal from this sooner or later.”
“Sooner or later doesn’t help me right this second.”
I laugh. “Why are you so impatient?”
She looks away. “I don’t like being reliant on others for everything.”
“I see,” I say. “Who’s helping you?”
“My dad.”
“And he’s not patient?”
She snorts. “He’s the opposite of patient. Honestly, I bet he thinks I’m faking it. Deep down, even if he won’t admit it.”
“That’s… pretty bad.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my dad. So I can’t wait to get healed and get out of there.”
“Do you have your own place?”
“Not yet. But I have plans.”
“Good for you.”
She shrugs a little. “I’m twenty-four. I should’ve moved out a while ago. I graduated from the University of Texas and felt so lost. Ended up at my dad’s place and just… got stuck.”
“I can understand that,” I say. “Happens to a lot of people.”
“Yeah, well, I never thought that would be me.”
“There’s plenty of time. You’re young.”
She gives me a little grin. “You keep saying that. What are you, fifty?”
“I’m thirty-four.”
“Oh, okay, so you’re ancient then.”
I laugh again and shrug. “I guess so.”
“How’d you end up opening a place like this?” she asks.
“I went to med school and wanted to do something that would really help people. I sort of just gravitated to being a physiatrist and just… well, ended up here, I guess.”
“Do you like it?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I don’t. All depends on the day and the patients.”
“How about right now?”
I give her a little smirk. “I love it right now.”
She smiles back and blushes a little. “That’s good to hear.”
“Well, it’s true. You’re easy to work with.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Like I said. Lots of old people come through here.” I make a face and laugh. “But you’re different.”
She leans against me, looking up into my eyes. “Different… how? Just young?”
“Nice to look at.” I smirk at her, leaning closer. “Nice to touch.”
She blushes. “Isn’t that against your doctor’s code or whatever?”
I shrug. “Probably. Definitely unethical.”
“I won’t report you.”
“I hope not.”
She laughs a little and leans her head against the wall. “Guess I should go soon.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I hesitate. It’s fun flirting and joking with her, but I can’t let her leave without at least scratching the itch that’s been bothering me all week. “Listen. I looked at your case file.”
“Yeah? Digging into me?”
I smile but I don’t take the bait. “I was looking at your injury. You know, it’s strange. Your style of break, the way it broke and the places it broke in, just isn’t really consistent with a car crash. It’s more like you fell down something.”
Her face goes instantly blank. She stares at me without speaking for a long moment. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying… well… it must’ve been on terrible car crash. That’s definitely what happened?”
“It was a car crash,” she says.
“I know. Just, the way it broke, and—”
“Look, maybe you really should work on your ethics,” she says, struggling to her feet. “Maybe flirting with me was a little out of line. And this is way out of line.”
“Amber—”
“No. I’m not interested. I told you, I got into a car crash. Don’t call me a liar.”
I stand up and let her struggle to her feet. She glares at me and grabs her cane, leaning on it, breathing hard. She’s angry, fucking livid, and I can’t blame her.
“Okay,” I say. “I hear you.”
“Good. I’m heading home.”
“Please come back,” I say.
“Why? So you can get off on stretching me?”
I smile a little. “Partially, yes. But also because I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“In recovering from this injury? You definitely do. If you want to be on your own again sooner rather than later, then you better keep coming, even if you think I’m a nosy asshole.”
“I definitely think you’re an asshole,” she says.
“Fine. But keep coming.”
She hesitates, meeting my eyes. I see something there but I’m not sure what it is. Uncertainty, maybe, or maybe something else.
“Look, here,” I say, reaching into my pocket. I take out a business card and a pen. I write my cell number on the back. “This is my personal number, my cell. Call or text with any questions at any time.”
“Giving me your number now?” she asks.
“Yeah, I am. And I’m not doing it because I think you’re gorgeous and have a great ass. I seriously think I can help you recover faster.”
She bites her lip and then that smile comes back. “Great ass, huh? What else do you like?”
I give her the card and she takes it. “Text me and I’ll tell you.”
She stares up into my eyes then shakes her head. “We’ll see.”
“Good.”
She turns and starts to hobble back to the front. I go to help her but she shakes me off. “I got it, okay?”
“Okay. I hope I hear from you soon.”
She glances at me but just shakes her head and keeps limping away. I watch her go until she leaves the gym and disappears down the front hall.
Fucking hell, that did not go well. But her reaction didn’t put me at ease, not even a little bit. In fact, her reaction was suspicious as hell.
She got mad. Really, really mad. Before that, she was enjoying our little flirting game, but as soon as I asked about the accident, she just got livid. But not just angry.
I think she was afraid.
I don’t know what happened to her. But I’m almost sure she wasn’t in a car accident. I’m starting to suspect something worse happened to her, and I need to find out what it was. If something bad happened and she’s still in danger… I can help.
I will help.
She has my interest. Fucking hell, she has all my interest. I wasn’t kidding when I said she has a nice ass. She has nice tits, great lips, a good smile, an amazing laugh.
She’s hiding something. And I need to find out what it is.
As I head back to my office, my phone buzzes. I take it out. The text says, You have a nice ass too.
I grin and save her number.
Me: Yeah? Tell me more.
Amber: No thanks. Maybe later, if you’re nice.
I’m smiling as I close my office door.
Something’s going on there, and I have to find out what. I’m afraid there isn’t anyone else that’s going to do it.
And besides, she’s got my interest.
If I want her, I’m going to have her.
3
Amber
I put my hand outside of the truck’s window and let the air move it up and down in waves. I keep thinking about Brent, about his smile and his body, all muscular and fit. Our last appointment was three days ago and we haven
’t texted since, but I keep taking out my phone and thinking about it.
“Close that damn window,” Dad snaps. “We’re almost there.”
I push the button and let it go up. We’re out in ranch land, out in the middle of nowhere basically. Texas has a ton of land, it’s one enormous state, practically bigger than a lot of countries. This little ranch is on the edge of my father’s business land, the land where he found his oil and made his money.
We’re on a business trip.
I think about Brent’s question about the car accident. He saw the truth in my file, but I’m not sure he even realizes it yet. I glance at my dad then back out the window. Brent’s the first person to actually ask me what really happened.
I should’ve told him. I wanted to at least. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Instead, I pretended to be angry, all because I’m actually terrified.
“Listen,” Dad says as we pull down a side road and drive up toward the main ranch house ahead. “You’d better be on your best behavior. We talked about this before, but we’re talking about it again. You’re going to smile, play nice, act right. You’re going to do as you’re told, and if you pull this off, we’re all going to be filthy rich. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” I say.
“I don’t think you do. We’ll be so rich, my grandkids won’t ever have to worry about money.”
“Assuming I have kids,” I say.
“Don’t talk like that. This boy might want them.” He shakes his head. “Come on, Amber. Get your shit together. This is for real.”
I don’t say anything. I just watch the fencing flash by and stare at the horses roaming the fields.
We park out front and climb out. I follow my dad up the steps onto the large front porch. It’s a nice house, well made and probably on the newer side. Dad knocks and a man answers, reed-thin with a big mustache and a completely bald head.
“Dave?” Dad asks.
“The one and only. You must be Samuel.”
“Good to finally meet you.” The men shake hands and it strikes me that they’ve never met in person before. After all that’s happened, all the negotiating, the back and forth, the fights, they’d never met in person.
