13. Buster
THIRTEEN
Buster
Thursday, August 15
5:43 am
I wake slowly, my eyes adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through Cole's curtains. For a moment, I'm disoriented, but then memories of last night flood back, bringing a smile to my face. I'm not used to this—waking up next to someone, feeling content and relaxed. Usually, I'd be rushing off to the hospital or hitting the gym, but today, I have the luxury of time.
I turn my head, drinking in the sight of Cole sleeping peacefully beside me. Her chestnut hair fans out across the pillow, a few strands falling across her face. I resist the urge to brush them away, not wanting to disturb her.
Her features are soft in sleep, and all the worries and stress of yesterday have melted away. Long eyelashes rest against her cheeks, and her lips are slightly parted. Her breathing is slow and steady.
Her scent surrounds me—a mix of lavender and some other herb I can't quite put my finger on. It's intoxicating. The warmth of her body radiates through the sheets, and I find myself wanting to pull her closer, to feel her skin on my skin.
Streaks of emerging sunlight dance across her form, highlighting the curve of her shoulder peeking out from under the comforter. I'm struck by how beautiful she is, how natural and unguarded she is at this moment. Her relaxed beauty and aura starkly contrast the woman I shared a bed with for the last two and a half years. It's a nice and welcome change.
I listen to the quiet of the morning, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and Cole's soft breathing. It's peaceful, a far cry from the chaos of the hospital or the tension-filled moments I'd grown accustomed to with Lara.
As I watch Cole sleep, I realize something. This feels right, not just physically but emotionally. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
A nagging doubt also creeps into my mind as I watch Cole sleep. Am I ready for this? The peace I felt moments ago starts to crumble, replaced by a familiar anxiety.
My track record with relationships is far from stellar. Lara is a glaring example of how spectacularly wrong things can go. I let her walk all over me and gave in to her every whim without considering the consequences. Now I'm paying for it—quite literally—as we battle over a house I foolishly put her name on.
Is that what I'm doing here with Cole? Am I falling into the same pattern, letting my attraction cloud my judgment? We agreed to be friends, neighbors, nothing more. Yet here I am, in her bed for the second time in as many nights.
Shep's warning echoes in my head. "Be careful jumping out of the frying pan into the fire with these women," he'd said. Maybe he's right. Maybe I need to pump the brakes before I end up in another mess.
I never intend for things to go this far when I come over. But when Cole looks at me with those clear blue eyes, when she leans in close, all my resolve crumbles. I don't fight it. I don't even try.
Am I setting myself up for more heartache? More importantly, am I risking hurting Cole? She's been through enough already with her cafe troubles. The last thing she needs is to get tangled up with someone as emotionally stunted as me.
I sigh, running a hand over my face, wiping the sleep off. This is exactly why I should stick to one-night stands and casual flings: no complications, no messy feelings, no risk of royally screwing things up.
But as I look at Cole again, peaceful in sleep, I can't bring myself to regret being here. Something about her draws me in and makes me want to be better, to try harder. Is that something real, or am I clinging onto her to save me from my current torrent?
Doubt lingers. Am I ready for this? Or am I just setting us both up for disappointment?
I decide I need to go to the gym after all. My mind's racing and I need to quiet these thoughts. Plus, Madeline will be up soon. The last thing I want is to deal with the awkwardness of her finding me in her mother's bed.
Carefully, I slide out from under the covers. Cole doesn't stir as I quietly gather my clothes and slip them on. She's sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. For a moment, I'm tempted to stay, curl up next to her warmth, and forget about my doubts.
But I can't. I still need to clear my head, and the gym still calls my name.
I take one last look at Cole before I slip out of the bedroom. In the living room, I pause, listening for any signs of Madeline stirring. All's quiet. I breathe a sigh of relief and head for the door.
Stepping into the hallway, I'm hit with a mix of emotions. Part of me feels like I'm running away, but another part knows this is the right call. I need space to think, to figure out what I want.
I make my way to my apartment, grateful for the early hour and empty hallways. Once inside, I change into my workout gear, lace up my sneakers, and grab my gym bag. The familiar routine helps settle my nerves a bit.
As I head out, I can't help but glance at Cole's door. I shake my head, pushing away the urge to go back into her room. The gym is what I need right now, I remind myself. A good workout will help clear my head and hopefully give me some perspective on this whole situation.
6:02 am
I push through the glass doors of the gym, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the muggy morning. The familiar scent of sweat and disinfectant hits me as I scan my membership card. It's early, my gym jam. There isn't another soul on the spacious, black and white speckled floor.
The rhythmic thud of weights and the whir of treadmills create a steady backdrop as I make my way to the locker room. I stuff my bag in a locker and head out, my sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.
I start with a warm-up on the treadmill, gradually increasing the speed. As I run, I pull out my phone and queue up my playlist. The opening chords of "A Bar Song (Tipsy)" by Shaboozy fill my ears, and I feel the energy pulse through me.
Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey.
But even as I push myself harder, increasing the incline, my mind wanders. I can't shake the memory of Cole last night. The softness of her skin under my fingertips. The way her hair smelled like lavender and something uniquely her. Her breath was soft and steady as she slept beside me.
I shake my head, trying to focus. I move to the weight area, loading up the barbell for squats. The heavy metal clangs as I position myself. With each rep, I try to push thoughts of Cole out of my mind, but it's useless.
The burn in my muscles intensifies as I switch to the bench press. The pleather of the bench sticks to my back as I lift, the bar cool against my palms. But all I can think about is the warmth of Cole's body pressed against mine.
Something about pushing my muscles now, early in the morning, is stirring up excitement inside me. A need for a sexual release rises from my middle, my cock engorging.
I move through my routine, the gym slowly filling up around me. The clink of weights, the grunts of exertion from deep inside me, and the steady thrum of "A Bar Song" on repeat blend into white noise as my mind fixates on Cole.
The hot water from the gym's showerhead cascades over me, washing away my workout's sweat and tension. But it's not just the physical exertion that's left me wound tight. It's the memory of Cole, the feel of her soft skin, the scent of her hair.
I close my eyes, and there she is, her image burned into my mind—her body, a perfect blend of strength and grace, curves that fit perfectly against my own. I can't shake the thought of her, the way her eyes spark when she's amused, the way her lips part slightly when she's deep in thought.
My hand finds its way to my aching cock, the need for release overwhelming. I'm alone in the shower area, the early hour keeping most gym-goers away, but I still glance around, the thrill of the forbidden adding to the moment's intensity.
I grip myself, my fingers wrapping around my shaft, and I stroke slowly and deliberately. With each pull, I imagine it's Cole's hand on me, her fingers exploring, her touch igniting a fire that only she can extinguish.
I picture her tits, the way they'd fill my hands, her nipples hardening under my touch. I imagine her ass, the roundness of it, as she arches her back, inviting me to take her, to claim her as mine.
That makes me jerk off harder, the water splashing against my skin, the sound of it mixing with my ragged breaths. I can almost hear her moans and feel the warmth of her breath against my neck as I thrust into her, our bodies moving together in a dance as old as time.
I'm caught in a battle between the desire to keep these feelings at bay and the physical need that's screaming for satisfaction. I want to take things slow, to not rush into something that could be as explosive as it is destructive. But my body craves her and aches for her in a way that's both exhilarating and terrifying.
I think about how she looked at me last night, the unspoken promise of passion and connection. It's a connection I've never felt with anyone, and it scares me. I've made bad decisions in the past, choosing women who were all wrong for me, but with Cole, it feels different. It feels right.
My balls tighten, the pressure building as I stroke faster, my mind filled with images of Cole. I come with a shuddering groan, my orgasm ripping through me as I picture her face, her name a silent prayer on my lips.
I lean against the tiled wall, spent but still aching for her. The water starts to run cold, snapping me back to reality. I know I need to control my feelings and not let them run away with me. But the physical need is powerful, and I'm not sure I can resist it much longer.
I take a deep breath as I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. I need to get a grip. I can't let my attraction to Cole cloud my judgment, not when there's so much at stake. But as I dress and prepare to face the day, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, I've found something worth risking it all for.
I leave the gym, my muscles pleasantly sore from the workout and the shower release. The morning sun's already beating down, promising another scorcher of a day in the cement jungle of downtown Birmingham. As I unlock my car, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Cole.
My heart skips a beat when I see her name on the screen. I swipe to read the message.
Houdini much? Sneaking out without a peep. What time did you leave? Everything okay?
I stare at the text, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. A mix of emotions swirls in my gut. Part of me wants to fire back a flirty response, maybe suggest meeting up later. But another part—the rational, cautious part—holds me back.
Am I falling for her? The thought sends a jolt of panic through me. I'm still trying to extricate myself from the mess with Lara. The last thing I need is to jump headfirst into another relationship. And with everything else going on—the hospital, the investigation into that accident at the theme park, the negotiations with Lara—is this the best time?
I slide into the driver's seat, Cole's message still unanswered. As I navigate the morning traffic towards UAB, my mind races. What am I doing? Am I repeating old patterns, letting myself get swept up without thinking things through?
The hospital looms ahead, its familiar facade a welcome distraction. I pull into my usual spot, Cole's text burning a hole in my pocket. But instead of replying, I take a deep breath and slip my phone away.
I can't deal with this right now. I need to focus on my patients and the surgeries ahead. I'll figure out how to respond to Cole later.
Maybe after I've had time to clear my head and think about what I want, I'll respond. And what I can bring, realistically, if we're going to explore something more. I don't want to make an impulsive decision without thinking it all through. If anything, my past has taught me something in that department.
Sighing, I grab my bag and head towards the hospital entrance. The weight of Cole's unanswered message sits heavy in my pocket, but I push it aside.
Right now, I've got lives to save. Everything else can wait.
2:21 pm
I leave the OR, peeling off my surgical cap and mask. It's been a long day but a productive one. Not to brag, but I am impressed with my ability to put all of this shit going on in my life currently out of my head when I am operating.
As I head toward the staff lounge, my mind drifts to the email from Jake that I've been avoiding since yesterday. Guilt gnaws at me. I know I need to deal with this Lara situation, but part of me just wants to bury my head in the sand.
I know that isn't going to get me anywhere with finally eradicating her from my life and my head. So, with a sigh, I pull out my phone—no point in putting it off any longer. I scroll through my contacts and hit Jake's number.
"Law offices of Jake Purcell, how may I direct your call?" a crisp voice answers.
"This is Buster Hankel for Jake," I reply, trying to keep the dread out of my voice.
"One moment, please. I'll connect you."
As I wait on hold, my stomach churns. What if Lara's countered with something even more outrageous? What if she's threatening to drag this out in court? I lean against the wall, suddenly exhausted, before I even find out what it is.
The bland hold music cuts off abruptly. "Dr. Hankel?" Jake's voice comes through. "Thanks for getting back to me. I was starting to wonder if you'd fallen off the face of the earth."
I wince at his light-hearted jab. "Sorry about that, Jake. It's been a crazy couple of days. What's the news?"
When he's done, I hang up the phone and slump against the wall, my head spinning. Lara's response echoes in my mind, each word feeling like a punch to the dick. She's rejected my counteroffer outright. No broker opinion, no backing out the cost of the lot. Nothing.
"She thinks the value of the lot is tied to and improved by the construction," I mutter to myself, replaying the conversation, feeling my blood pressure rise. "Which she contributed to with her 'expertise' and interior design additions." I scoff heartily at that last part. Her expertise? Please. She picked out some fancy light fixtures and chose paint colors.
The $475k buyout offer still stands, like a boulder crushing my chest. And now she's threatening litigation if I don't accept. It's extortion, plain and simple.
Jake's words try to reassure me. He thinks she's posturing, that she doesn't have a case. But the idea of dragging this out in court makes me want to scream. More time, more money, more stress.
I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. Jake suggests calling her bluff, agreeing to go to court. He believes my offer was reasonable and that a jury would likely agree. But the thought of airing all this dirty laundry in public, of having to relive every moment of our toxic relationship...
I push off the wall and start pacing the hallway. Part of me wants to give in, pay her off, and be done with it. But $475k? That's a full fucking mortgage that I will have to pay every month to her. And the principle of it all grates on me. Why should she profit so massively from a relationship that she wrecked and then used to punish me?
I stop, take a deep breath, and try to think rationally. Jake's right. I made a reasonable offer. Going to court might be a hassle, but it could be worth it in the long run. It is even better if it calls Lara's bluff and brings her back to the negotiating table.