He was going to have to say something more important than doling out advice for the common cold. Which she already knew. Tucking his hands behind his back, he frowned. “I resigned today.”
The tissue tumbled out of her hands, landing between her thighs. Her jaw fell open. “You did? Why?”
It didn’t hurt as badly as he’d thought to admit the truth. “I’m not capable of conducting surgery at the level I was before. Mythumb is never going to have a full range of motion, and I have no interest in retraining to compensate for the loss.”
Sympathy filled her eyes. Different than pity. Warmer, softer—a flash of the way she used to look at him emerging. Maybe, despite everything, she still cared.
“Houston...I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Me, too. But I can’t give up medicine, it’s too much a part of me. I haven’t decided what exactly I’m going to do, but I’m hoping an orthopedic practice might have use for me.”
The idea had stolen over him after he’d left the hospital, and what had just been a thought now cemented. He knew that’s what he wanted, what he should do—continue to use his orthopedic skills without surgery. He could still be a doctor and help heal patients, just in a different way.
“And I want you to join me.” Now that came out of nowhere, but damn, it was a good idea. “We’d be great together. Complement each other.”
Josie gaped at him. “That sounds about as much fun as a liquid diet. I can’t work with you, Houston! I can’t even look at you.”
And to prove her point, she buried herself behind another tissue.
Shit, he was screwing this up. Why the hell had he brought up work first?
Dropping down on the floor next to her, he touched her knee. “Jesus, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m not doing this right. What I really came here to tell you is that I love you. Josie, I really,reallylove you, and I’ve missed you like crazy.”
It wasn’t even hard to say it. The words rolled off his tongue, true and fierce.
Josie didn’t look impressed with his liberation. She spoke through the tissue. “Wow. And it only took you five weeks to say it.”
“I’m not always in touch with myemotions.”
She snorted, then threw her crumpled tissue at him, bouncing it off his nose before it rolled down his chest. “Why are you doing this to me? I gave up my residency at Acadia without a fight, and I just want to get out, get away from you, repair my heart and dignity and here you are, trying to reel me back in with a bunch of bullshit. You keep doing this to me. Pushing me away and then pulling me back in.”
“It’s not bullshit!” He’d never been so damn serious in his life.
He loved her. He was desperate for her to say the same. He’d never wanted anything so much as he wanted her to forgive him. “I do love you. I’m a better-off man than I was before I met you.”
He stroked her knee through her cotton pants. “You helped me heal, Josie, both emotionally and physically. I thought that I couldn’t ever love anyone because of my parents, and that loving meant giving up control. You showed me it doesn’t have anything to do with that.” He squeezed her knee, trying to get her to look at him. She seemed incredibly absorbed in peeling apart two tissues that had stuck together.
“My physical therapist told me if I adjust and shift the way I use my hand, it will be better for me than to keep trying to use it the way I always have. When I realized that, I realized the same was true for us. I can’t make my feelings for you fit the selfish way I’ve always approached women. Being with you has been a complete shift inside of me, and it’s easy and amazing andfun. Loving you makes me happy, and I want to spend forever taking care of each other.”
He’d done it. He’d laid it all out there. And it felt damn good. Burrowing his head into her thigh, he kissed her leg, the warm cotton of her pants smelling light and fruity, like Josie. His Josie.
“I knew how I felt five weeks ago and I should have told you, but I was scared. Thought you might squash me like that garbage truck compacter. I’m very sorry.”
Sorry he’d hurt her. Sorry he’d wasted time.
Josie stared down at Houston’s dark head leaning over her lap as he kissed her, and wondered if she were hallucinating. If so, she was never taking NyQuil again. She couldn’t prevent her fingers from smoothing the tips of his coarse black hair any more than she could prevent her heart from leaping to enthusiastic attention.
And then he begged. “Josie, please, honey, I love you. Please forgive me. Please.”
Oh, God. Tears pooled, knowing what it must have cost him to say those vulnerable words. She stroked his head, his cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I forgive you.”
He sighed, nuzzling his nose across her thigh before lifting his head. “Thank you. I promise you I won’t ever do anything that impacts your life or your career without discussing it first.”
Fingers found their way over hers, and he locked their hands together. He stared at her, eyes trailing over her face, jaw working, and Josie let the wave of tenderness wash over her, soaking her, comforting her.
She wanted to say something monumental, iconic. One for the memory banks.
Instead, she sneezed.