Like Real People Do - Part seven

Fully edited*

It was an accident, and your fault.

You weren’t paying attention when Blue swung her head into yours, when she shook her neck out and brought her skull crashing into the side of your face, hard enough to make you stumble, sending you gasping out of the stall while she snorted an apology.

“Fuck.” Her halter had clipped your skin, and you don’t need to touch the side of your face to know you’re bleeding. One hand over your eye, you close her stall with gritted teeth and make for the house, silently praying it’s not as bad as you fear.

It’s pretty bad. It's already tender, and your skin is open across your cheekbone. You’ll be able to get away with two butterfly bandages instead of stitches, thank god, but it looks awful, though not nearly as awful as your eye and its broken blood vessel.

Shit.

The cut stings as you clean it, and your entire face aches even after you’ve swallowed down two Tylenol. You’re not sure which is worse, the injury, or the anxiety it’s giving Riley, who clings to you for the rest of the morning, right up until you drop her off, her hug nearly choking the life out of you.

“I’m okay, I promise.” Her eyes are wide and worried, and you tap her nose. “I love you.”

“I’ll see you after work?” You get home a few hours after her on work days. Her sitter, Callie, hangs out with her after school, or during the day if needed, and she does it for free in exchange for free boarding of her two horses. She’s a college student, very sweet, and takes good care of her. You’d be screwed if she wasn’t around.

“Of course ladybug. Now give me another hug and then you’ve gotta go okay?” She nods reluctantly, and wraps her arms around your neck until she’s satisfied, before taking off into a sea of kids.

“Holy shit!” Key’s mouth drops open, and you groan.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Isa startles as she comes around the corner.

“Oh my god what happened to your face?” This is exactly what you did not want. A scene.

“It’s not a big deal, I swear.”

“What’s going on?” Doctor Riley appears out of nowhere, and you force your breathing into a steady rhythm.

“Daisy got beat up.” Key sounds almost happy, pleased with herself, and you briefly think about murdering her. When you shoot a glare her way, she only raises an eyebrow. His usual gruff tone turns to ice.

“What?”

“No! I didn’t. She’s just making shit up, I-” Pressure closes around your jaw, your chin, and it takes a split second to realize it’s not a some phantom limb but him, his fingers holding your face, tilting it to the light.

“Who did this?” There’s a red flash of anger in his voice, and it settles oddly in your stomach, almost like its heat could keep you warm through a winter. You try to speak, try to spit it out, but the feeling of his skin against yours is overwhelming. “What happened?” When there’s more silence, he gentles his tone, shifts it into something safe and coaxing. “It’s okay Daisy, tell me what happened.”

“A horse.” You croak. You try to pull away but he refuses to let go, holding you firmly in place. “My horse. She smashed her head into mine, and the metal of her halter cut me.”

“A horse.” He deadpans like he doesn’t believe you. The girls, you realize, have mysteriously disappeared, leaving you alone with him, the man who still has not let go of your face.

“Yes, a horse. I have horses. And I’m fine, really. It’s just a bruise.”

“And a cut, and a broken blood vessel in your eye.” He snaps, and again, you try to move away. “Hold still.” He’s scrutinizing you, focused on the blossoming tender skin, the angry red splotch stretching across the white of your eye. This focus, the contact, its all making your heart race, turning its steadfast rhythm into a gallop, one you can’t control. You lick your lips.

“Doctor Riley-” You don’t need this, you don’t need him holding you, exposing your weakness.

“Any problems with your vision?” His fingers trace the curve of your cheek, carefully palpating the swelling and you hiss.

“OW. No. Like I said, I’m fine it’s-”

“Headache? Dizziness? Did you lose consciousness?” Jesus christ. You shake your head with what mobility you have while still trapped in his grip. “Did you clean this?” Does he think you’re an idiot?

“Of course I did.” He hums, blatantly ignoring your annoyance to inspect your injury until he’s satisfied.

“If I told you to take the day off, would you listen?” What? Your thoughts run dry, but somehow he doesn’t need an answer. “No, I know you wouldn’t.” His touch eases, and with his free hand, he strokes the backs of his fingers across your cheek. The room spins, and not because you took a horse’s skull to the face. This moment has gone from intense to intimate, all of it still intimidating. He’s trying to shatter you, trying to break you. He must be.

“I can work, I’m fine.” You need distance. You need his anger, his temper, his impatience, not this. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m okay.” His hand falls away.

“Are you?” You blink.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” His voice is still soft, soft enough to seep into your bones and spread like a disease, poison your marrow until you can’t stand. It will make you sick, weaken you, and it's not like the situation with Beckert, where you knew well enough you didn't have the power, when you accepted you had to acquiesce.

This is different, and you won’t let it in. You won’t let him in.

“Yeah I’m…” No. You’re not okay. You’re not fine. You’re failing. This weight is crushing you, and you can’t hold it up any longer. You’re not strong enough. The flame is back, the one that wants you to let go, to fall, the one that will burn your control to ash, and you're forced to extinguish it, shove it down. “I’m fine.” His expression shifts into indifference, eyes turning to stone, all of it happening so fast you get whiplash. He shrugs.

“Alright then.”

“I can’t.”

“Come on you said Riley is at a sleepover.”

“She is. But I still can’t.” Olivia stamps her foot like a petulant child. “Liv, listen. I can’t. I’m on a tight budget this month, I can’t spend any money, and I can’t just be going out to bars nowadays.” You have chores to do too, and going to bed while sun is still up sounded so nice, but Ava is grinning at you from across the table, and you know it means trouble.

“Who said anything about spending money?” You roll your eyes, and Olivia doubles down.

“You need to get out Daze, you go to work, you go home. That’s it. You need a break, just for a few hours. It’ll be us three, low key, and I’ll buy your beers.”

“There will be plenty people who want to buy you a beer, Daisy. Trust me.” Olivia is hopeful, and you sigh.

“Fine. But two rounds at most.”

Before Riley, you used to come to this bar often. It’s a hospital hang, they have live music on the weekends, and the beer is generally affordable (if you’re drinking Coors.)

Now, you can’t remember the last you were inside. Here, or any drinking establishment, or even a restaurant.

“How’s the new hire?” You sip your beer. It’s cold and tastes like weekends past. Far, far past.

“She’s good!”

“She sucks.” They both answer at the same time, and Ava scoffs. “What? She’s a new grad. It’s like having a toddler.”

“Everyone is new at some point.” Olivia chastises her, and you smile, enjoying the rarity of this entire night even if they’re bickering.

“Oh shit.” Ava’s eyes go wide.

“What?” Olivia scans the room, confused.

“Two if by sea.” No.

“You’re joking.” She shakes her head.

“Looks like they’re all here too. And the radiologist, what’s her name?” Your stomach swoops. You’ve been avoiding Doctor Riley since the incident with your face, dodging him in the hallway, and trading OR duties. The few times he’s managed to catch you, he’s seemed less than pleased.

“Laswell.” Ava smiles at whoever she sees past your shoulder, but judging by the seductive tilt of her lips, you’d lay money on it being John. That’s your cue.

“I should go.”

“What?! We just got here.” You can feel Doctor Riley in the room, his eyes on you, examining, studying, and you shiver.

“She doesn’t want to see Riley because she’s avoiding him.” You grit your teeth.

“Thanks Ava, I think we’re all well aware.” Olivia grabs your hand.

“Stay. Please. We’ll pretend they’re not here. Ava will keep her daddy issues in her pants. Come on, we never see you at work now. I miss you.” The guilt trip is obvious, but she does have a point.

“Fine. For a little while.”

Olivia practically screams. You wipe your face, trying to dry the tears that have wet your cheeks as Ava struggles to breathe. People are staring, and you couldn’t care less.

“You’re insane. Did you get in trouble?”

“No! I never heard about it. I think he probably didn’t report me because he knew he was in the wrong.” The three of you try to tamp down the laughter, and you take a deep breath to alleviate some of the burning in your stomach.

“I miss you guys. The NICU is so fucking serious. They’re all nice but it’s like if you breathe wrong your baby could tank. It’s terrifying.” You leave out the obvious, he’s terrifying, and let your eyes wander instead. You tell yourself you’re not looking for him, but that feeling is back, and the draw is too insistent to ignore.

You get what you’re looking for.

He’s watching, clearly waiting for you to find him, and your vision tunnels as you lock eyes. The room fades away. You’ve been mixed up over him, turned upside down and inside out. The memory of his hand on yours, how he cradled your face, that simple, stupid contact, is playing on a loop in your head, in your dreams.

Except it’s worse in your dreams. It’s out of control. It’s not just his hand on yours, his fingers on your face, it’s his everything on yours, it’s you bent over his desk with your pants pulled to your ankles and his cock buried inside of you. It’s him telling you he knows what you need, and it’s his fat cock shoved inside you so deep you can feel it in your stomach. And then it’s you waking up to a wet pussy, your fingers already circling your clit and on the verge of coming.

Worst of all, it’s him telling you to fall, and promising to catch you. It’s him holding your face in his hands and telling you everything is okay.

Nothing about any of it makes sense, and you chalk it up to the obvious tension and the fact that you haven’t had sex in years. That’s what it is. That’s all it is.

You force your eyes away. It’s too much to even think about, let alone try to compartmentalize, and you polish off your beer.

“Alright. Sadly, my carriage is going to turn into a pumpkin soon. I’ve gotta go.” They whine, but they know the reality. They understand.

You’re halfway across the parking lot when you hear him.

“Daisy.” The grit and the grind of his voice is your ghost now. It lurks in the darkness and between your ears. You can’t evade him, and you’re so fucking terrified of him being so inescapable and shredding your control, adding fuel to the fire that is already threatening to engulf you, encouraging those flames of need to burn brighter and brighter. You try for a deep breath, but it comes up short, and your courage fades as you face him.

“Hi, Doctor Riley.” He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie, plain black, no logo or lettering, all of it seemingly stretched just a bit to fit across his chest, his thighs. Your heart pounds.

“We’re not at work. It’s just Simon.” Simon. You’re sure your swallow is audible. “Headed out?”

“Yeah I’ve gotta get home.” He takes a step forward. His one is like three of your own, and he’s close now, too close, so close you have to tilt your head to look at him when he speaks.

“It’s good to see you laugh. Thought you might not know how to for a minute.” The world stops turning. You trip over his words in your head. “I haven’t been much help with that though, have I?” You’re frozen. There’s no rhyme or reason for this, no explanation. Why does being this close to him make you so dizzy?

“I have to go.” You fall back on your instincts. Flee. “I’ll see you at work on Tuesday?” It shouldn’t be a question, but for some reason you’re lingering in the unknown tonight.

“Daisy… ” he trails off, and your breath gets caught in your windpipe. The parking lot is silent, and you stare at him, waiting, wondering, and when his fist clenches at his side and he steps back, a twinge of disappointment pinches beneath your ribs. “Have a good rest of your night.”

“You too Doctor Riley.”