"Then stay here," he murmurs, his hands demanding as they glide along my body, a low growl escaping his mouth.
"It might be a matter of someone's life," I struggle to say, pushing him away from me. I plead with my eyes. He needs to let me go because I absolutely don't want to disappoint him and risk our relationship.
As if he could read my thoughts, his expression suddenly becomes serious. "Am I not important enough to you?"
I reach for his hands. "Please, don't do this to me."
My pager goes off again. This has been going on for too long.
Way too long.
"I don't want to hurt you. But I have to go. Please understand that." I try to free myself from his grip once more.
He holds me back and wraps his arms around me. His hold is so tight that I can hardly breathe. "If I say you should stay here, then you stay here," he whispers in my ear. "Got it?"
Excuse me?
He forcefully presses his lips against mine. Suddenly, a clarity overcomes me, one that I was blind to before. I know men like him. As long as they get their way, they put women on a pedestal. But woe betide if it's any different.
He's one of those men.
Dammit. How could I have fallen for him?
"Release me immediately." My voice sounds resolute, but he doesn't even consider loosening hisgrip. On the contrary, he pulls me farther away from the door, presses me against the wall, and fiddles with my doctor's coat.
At that moment, the door to the on-call room swings open. In the doorway stands my boss. His thin hair quivers. He stares at us in disbelief, unable to say anything.
He was probably looking for me because I hadn't responded to the pager. With presence of mind, I push Jonas away and walk toward my boss.
As I reach him, all I see is coldness in his gaze. "Too late," he says, and I instantly realize what that means.
Back then, my whole world came crashing down. And now, it's crumbling once again because of that memory. Without thinking, I throw myself onto Noah's chest. His body stiffens as if he's afraid of my closeness. My tears soak his shirt, but I couldn't care less.
"Why did I let that happen?" I sniffle even though I know Noah can't possibly understand what I mean.
He gently pushes me away. "Sometimes we do things for which there are no words." There's pain in his tone.
Through the veil of tears, I look up at him and see the anguish on his face. "I would understand if you don't want me to treat you," I say, and I mean it.
"Mistakes happen," he replies hesitantly, and I can see in his eyes that he doesn't truly believe that.
I respond with a vehement shake of my head. "But not that kind of mistake."
As if I've said something wrong, he suddenly turns away. "We should keep going," he says, walking again.
Feeling dejected, I watch him go.
He is deeply disappointed in me. And rightly so. I should never have told him. It was not only unprofessional and foolish but also negligent. But one thing remains unchanged despite everything—he needs help.
"Listen," I call after him and start moving. If I ruin myself, so be it. But he mustn't suffer because of it. "I'll pass your case on to Helene. She'll figure out what's wrong with you."
He stops abruptly and turns to face me. His grim shake of the head speaks volumes.
What is his problem with doctors?
Granted, I'm certainly not a shining example of my profession, but not all of them are idiots like me. On the contrary, most dedicate their entire lives to serving their patients.
"But Helene can..." I start vehemently.