Page 9 of If Cain Were Able

Today has passed so fucking slowly I could scream. I purposely had my scheduler put Patrick’s appointment at the end of my day because I knew my concentration would be shot after seeing him again. I also had her choose a Friday because I’m in the mood to make terrible decisions where this man is concerned, and I’m planning on a long night.

But I swear the minute hand on my office clock is stuck.

It’s been three fifteen for at least an hour.

I force myself to focus on the patients in front of me, aware that I don’t have the luxury of a margin for error, but when it’s finally four thirty, I draw the deep breath I’ve needed all day.

Except when I refresh my schedule, Patrick still hasn’t checked in.

“Perry, can you call Mr. Miller and ask if he’s close?”

Perry shoots me a questioning look, which I return with a challenging stare until he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Whatever you want, Dr. R.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” I ask.

But instead of answering me, Perry just picks up the phone and dials the number on the screen.

“Uh, yes, is this Mr. Miller?” I hate that I can’t hear the voice on the other end of the line. Another second goes by, and Perry’s lips curl in on themselves to hide his smile before he states, “He’s not going to like that.” Then he lets out a genuine laugh as he says, “Yeah, I’m definitely not going to tell him that.” After another pause, he adds, “Sure. You, too. Goodbye.”

“He’s not coming, is he?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“Uh, no,” Perry says.

“What did he say?” I demand.

“Nothing I want to repeat.” Smart man. But now I have to know.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Perry. Just spit it out.”

“He said, and I quote, ‘to get fucked.’” The look on Perry’s face tells me there’s more, and whatever comes next, he really doesn’t want to say to my face.

“And?”

“Did you know this guy before his appointment?” he asks suddenly. “Because the surgery went great, and when we discharged him, he was pleasant and doing really well, so I don’t understand why he’s so pissed at you.”

“What. Did. He. Say?” I grit out.

Rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor, Perry says, “He, uh, said if you wanted any help with that, you know where to find him.”

So, Patrick still wants to play, does he? He should know better than to call my bluff.

I nod at Perry. “Thank you. I’ll be out of town until Sunday night. If anything comes up, call Garrett.”

Exiting my office, I book a first-class seat to Raleigh, North Carolina, for eight o’clock tomorrow morning.

Looks like we’ll be doing this the hard way.

Pulling my rental car into the driveway of the address on file, I survey the neighborhood. It’s so perfectly Patrick. Boring. Expected. Suburban. I swear to God, the only time that man ever thought outside the box was when he was with me.

I climb out of the rented luxury SUV, right my sports coat, and make my way to the front door.

I should probably be nervous, and I definitely should have thought this through more, but it’s always been instinct with Patrick. Rational thought never really played a role in our relationship.

I’m already fuming as I hear him moving around inside after I knock.

But when the door is ripped open, it’s by a tall, young, muscular guy, startling me.