Page 18 of If Cain Were Able

Chapter 11

Cain

Ihadn’t meant to stand Patrick up two months ago.

I got a STAT SOS call from the operating room; a colleague needed help with a twenty-year-old collegiate athlete on the table.

My personal life would have to wait.

And wait, it has.

My call didn’t go through when I tried, and I assumed Patrick was on his flight home. I also took that to mean that maybe I should give him a clean break. For months now, I’ve forced myself to keep my focus on my patients at work, and on keeping my cock satisfied when I’m outside these walls.

The only problem is that even my trusted, well-liked hookups aren’t doing it for me anymore, and my frustration over being sexually dissatisfied is carrying over into my workday, making me even snippier than usual.

“Seriously, Dr. R., what’s crawled up your ass?” Perry asks as we stand at the scrub sink, prepping for the next case.

“Perhaps you should be less concerned about my ass and more concerned about the heart valve replacement we’re about to do,” I reply coldly.

Perry just laughs, unfazed.

“Perhaps you should handle whatever the fuck is eating at you so you can actually focus on this valve replacement. I’ve never seen you this distracted,” he says, causing me to clench my jaw and glare at him.

“What makes you think I’m distracted?” I bite.

“You mean besides the fact that you’ve just spent the last two minutes scrubbing in with counter disinfectant instead of chlorhexidine?”

I look down at my hands, and sure as shit, they’re pink.

“WHO THE FUCK LEFT THIS NEXT TO THE SCRUB SINK?!” I yell before looking back at Perry. “And why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

“I did. Just now. To prove my point. Whatever it is, Dr. Rosemont, fix it before you kill someone.”

Perry pushes through the doors to the OR, leaving me at the sink with my thoughts.

Patrick has me so torn up, it won’t be sleeping with him that ruins everything I’ve worked for…it’ll be not sleeping with him that does it.

How the fuck is that even possible?

By some miracle, I manage to make it through the case. Thankfully, it was straightforward. Nonetheless, I make a mental note to give Perry a bonus this quarter. His words, as much as I hated them, have me putting a plan into action to remedy this blight on my brain.

The medical conference is in two weeks. Duke University reached out a couple of months back, asking if I’d speak. Academia isn’t where my passion lies, and my waitlist is so long that I declined.

But things have changed.

My schedulers and the patients who will have to be rescheduled won’t be thrilled, but this needs to be done.

I send the appropriate emails, block my clinic, and book my flight to North Carolina. There’s only one thing that’s going to calm my mind and get me back on track, and it isn’t spending more time in the OR, the gym, or with anyone on my ‘approved hookups list.’

I didn’t tell him I was coming. Mostly because I’m not entirely sure what I was supposed to say that wouldn’t make this sound as fucking crazy as it is. Pulling my rental into his driveway, there’s a car here, and it wasn’t the one his son drove the last time.

I briefly think about leaving.

And then my traitorous brain flashes images of Patrick on his fucking knees for someone else, and I’m out of the car in a flash.

I came here on a mission, goddammit, and I’m not leaving until I’ve accomplished it.

I’m still in my suit, having come straight from the lecture I barely remember giving, and I straighten my tie as I climb out of the Porsche SUV.