Chapter Eight

Dallas

Now

I woke the next morning, surprisingly well-rested despite my bad dream, and scurried to the kitchen to grab a quick coffee before leaving for my shift. My mom stood waiting for me in the kitchen, and I jumped in surprise when she met me with a waiting smile. "Mom, it's six in the morning!" I looked to see my favorite breakfast of eggs benedict and fresh orange juice waiting for me. "Oh, this is too much, Mom. You didn't have to." Grabbing my fork, I dug in as she leaned over the counter, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.

"It goes with aging. I wake up at the crack of dawn, and I hate it," she mused, watching me inhale my plate. "Besides, little woman, you're getting too thin."

"I'm on it," I said confidently. "I've been letting too much get in the way of my health. I've already decided to do better. I'll take the food but skip the lecture, okay?" I asked, hopeful.

My mom narrowed her eyes. "Fine, smart ass, I was just doing my job."

"I know, and you're really good at it," I complimented around a mouthful of runny eggs and Canadian bacon.

"Just remember, old lady or not, I can still kick your ass," she said forcefully as I laughed loudly around a swallow of deliciousness.

"Eggs benedict," my dad said sleepily. "Morning, angel, this is a nice surprise."

"Hi, Daddy," I piped before leaning into a bear hug.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as my mom ushered him to sit beside me.

"I had a rough day yesterday and just wanted to be home."

"Oh." He stopped his juice glass midway to his mouth, his concern clear.

"I'm fine. Mom and I talked it out, really," I assured him as I finished my plate.

"Well, if you want another ear," he offered as I looked at my mom's reddening face.

"Seth Whitaker," she snapped, "I'm more than capable of talking to her without your assistance."

"I've no doubts, baby," he said sweetly.

"You're in for a long day, baby ," my mom retorted. They both chuckled and looked at me expectantly.

"I'm fine, okay? Crisis averted." Rinsing off my plate and sticking it in the dishwasher, I addressed them both. "I'm chalking this up to good old-fashioned curiosity. I have a job I love, and everything else is just a distraction. It's time to get back to life as I know it and stop worrying about what-ifs . That time is over. I just want to resume my life as it was."

My mom harrumphed, clearly unhappy with my decision, and I replied, "It's my decision to make."

"What am I missing?" my dad asked, looking between us.

"Dean is back and wants another shot with Dallas. She's still madly in love with him and is refusing to give him a chance," my mom boldly declared, summing up all that was unsaid between us last night .

"Mom," I protested.

"Dean is back," he said animatedly. "Oh, man, I'd love to see him."

"Well, then you invite him over, Dad. I want no part of it." I rounded the corner, grabbing my purse, and hugging my mom goodbye. "He's just bored. He came home to take care of his mom and decided it'd be fun to play ‘ remember when' with me. Speaking of Dean, Dad, I need a favor." He raised his brows skeptically but not because of the favor. He didn't believe one word of my speech. Neither did my mom. I was determined to prove them both wrong. Like with all things Dean-related, I'd taken his words to mean more than they did. His actions had always seemed to prove otherwise. I wasn't that na?ve anymore and would never be to that extent ever again. It'd cost me too much.

"What's the favor, angel?"

My day went by quickly. I spent the majority of my time in the children's ward, talking with the doctors and watching their procedures. I'd woken up this morning with a sense of purpose. I would have to broach the subject with Rose at a later date. I didn't want to distract her from the happiness she'd found or her studies. I knew my sister well and was still in the process of deciding just how to approach the subject of my career change with her. I'd been certain of only one thing in the last month—that I loved being a doctor, and even more so, I loved being one on the front line fighting a disease I hated. There wasn't anything original about it. I was one of thousands of doctors to step up to the plate, but it was what I loved to do. I wanted to fight cancer hard and dirty and to help promote the hope of kicking the runaway epidemic in the ass. I had my own part of the universe to deal with it. In my hospital, each patient, each case, it was enough…for now.

I filled out the necessary paperwork after talking to Dr. Pierce in detail. It would take time to call myself an oncologist. I would have to start from the bottom, shadowing the more experienced doctors in the field. To me, the extra training would be well worth it. Pierce was thrilled with my decision and wished me the best. I knew the hardest part would be to try to sway Rose, but as far as following my heart was concerned, I'd done right by it in this case.

I spent the majority of the first half of my day getting my desk in order for the next resident. It could take days for me to get a position in the oncology department, weeks possibly if there wasn't anything available, but I wanted to get a head start.

At lunch, I saw Dean in the cafeteria, eating alone and playing with his tablet. He seemed to look up as if he knew of my sudden appearance. I gave him a wink and a genuine smile as I grabbed a sandwich and drink before joining him. He seemed stunned at my easy approach and demeanor.

"Hi," I said happily as I pointed to the chair next to him. He nodded, allowing me to join him.

"Dallas, I was going to call you last night, but you were so upset …" He looked at me, his head tilted to the side. "Doesn't seem like the case today."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said ruefully. "I'm good." I cracked open my drink and sucked the small amount of spray that came with it. "Mom's eggs benedict are the cure for everything."

Dean looked at me warily, "Dallas, I just wanted to say, yesterday—"

"We have a past. We dated. That was then. That needs to be enough for you. You said let's be friends. I want that. I think we can handle it."

"Okay," he conceded. His disappointment was evident, but I ignored it. I didn't bother to look at him until I was half done with my sandwich.

"Dean, I want to be an oncologist. I've requested a permanent transfer to that department."

"What the hell happened last night when I left you?" He leaned in, watching me carefully.

I shrugged. "Wine, my mom, and a good night's sleep."

"Wow, your mom told you to shoot me down," he said, incredulous. "What did I ever do to her?"

"We didn't talk about you," I lied. "Besides, we dropped that subject," I reminded him. "And now I'm asking you if you think I'd be a good oncologist."

"If that's what you want, yes, Dallas, I think you will be amazing at whatever specialty interests you," he assured me. "Lord knows, you're a determined woman," he finished. His double meaning wasn't lost on me.

"Great, you take vaginas. I'll cover the tumors." He chuckled, and I smiled broadly.

"It's good to see you smile. You haven't done a lot of that since I've been home."

"I've had a lot to figure out. You want chocolate? I'm dying for some."

He looked at me strangely. "Sure?"

"Do you have an hour?"

"Two actually, now that my last appointment canceled," he muttered, following me to the trash.

"Great." I grabbed his arm and whisked him into the elevator to the children's ward, where they were serving ice cream. Most of them were very sick from treatment but still managed a smile and had a joke or two. Dean seemed fascinated by their strength, as was I. I once spent an entire day studying their cases and was blown away by what some of the children had to endure at such a young age.

I would catch Dean looking at me from time to time as I hung out with my favorite kid, Ollie. We'd snuck away from the crowd to join him in his private room. He was the child of a wealthy ranch owner and had spent the majority of his youth in and out of the hospital. He was older than the others and had a tell-it-like-it-is personality. It seemed most of the sicker kids—the long-term survivors—had decided they had no time for bullshit. Thirteen-year-old veteran, Ollie, with his copper hair and dark blue eyes, took in Dean as he extended his hand.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Ollie asked me as he shook Dean's hand.

"He was a long time ago. He sucked at it," I said as Dean's mouth dropped open, and Ollie burst out laughing.

"She's a looker, doctor. You're an idiot," Ollie said, amused as he watched us both.

"I'm making a comeback," he said, giving him a wink. "And she's lying," Dean said, looking over at me pointedly. "I was awesome."

"Well, good luck with that," Ollie said, retrieving his hand. "So, Dr. Whitaker, are you going to give this slob another chance?"

I ignored them both, countering with a statement of my own.

"You look good today," I remarked of Ollie and the new hair growth on his head.

"I'm going to grow it in for our date," he said sweetly.

"We aren't going on a date. I'm taking you to see a Cowboys game. "

"Fine, call it what you will, Dr. Whitaker, but the connection is there," Ollie remarked as Dean chuckled. "What are you laughing at? Are you blind? Look at her."

"I have," Dean said, still amused.

"Sorry," I remarked to Dean, "he's a little territorial and delusional."

"Har, Har, doctor. Seriously, marry me. It's my wish," Ollie said in a serious tone.

"Ask me when you are twenty," I mused.

"Don't worry, buddy. I got shot down the first time I asked her to marry me." I stiffened at Dean's words as my face burned in recognition.

"She's a heartbreaker," Ollie said loudly, forcing me to turn around.

"You know, fellas, love ain't all there is. There's more to life."

"Oh yeah? This should be interesting," Dean said, seemingly amused by my statement, crossing his arms and leaning against the window.

"Yeah," I said, agitated . " A lot more. It doesn't have to be the center of your universe. It's just a component. There are career goals, personal feats, stones to overturn, and rules to break."

"Great argument," Dean said weakly as Ollie did a slow clap.

"Did you get ice cream?" I asked Ollie, ignoring Dean, who was still staring at me.

"Yep, all set."

"Great, Dean, let's go. He needs a nap."

"Don't I get a kiss?" Ollie said, hopeful.

"When you're twenty," I replied, amused at his demeanor. He was only thirteen years old, and I could tell that one day, he would be a handsome man if he was graced with the time. I said a silent prayer for him then.

"Stop thinking about when I'm going to die, doc. If you're joining oncology, you're going to have to work on your poker face.

"Shit, it's that obvious?" I said, terrified.

"Yep," he answered quickly. "What are my chances today?"

"Thirty percent," I shot back.

"Pucker up, baby," Ollie said confidently.

"Atta boy," I said before shutting his door.

"He's right, you know. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You're going to need to toughen up."

"I'm tough!" I defended.

"In the smart assed, sassy, women's lib kind of way. But you're emotional, too."

"Ew," I said, walking toward the elevator. "I'm off to the dark side with Pierce. Wish me luck."

"I had fun. Thanks for today," he said, getting in the elevator with me.

"Sure," I nodded, pushing the button for each of our floors.

"So, was that speech about love more for you or me?" he asked as he stepped toward me. "I don't believe a word of it."

"Stop it," I hissed vehemently.

"Let me get it right this time," he said. I looked up to see him coming at me full force, his lips crashing down to mine. I yelped, and he used it to his advantage as he thrust his tongue in deeply, taking my breath away. I sank against the elevator as he made love to my mouth urgently and said a quick "I'm not giving up," then let me go abruptly before the doors opened to let others on. I stood gasping and mourning the loss of him as the new crowd of riders stared at me oddly. I recovered, mumbling "Texas heat" as I fanned myself. A few of them nodded, and one commented, "Supposed to reach one hundred and four today." Dean didn't bother to mask his laughter as he eyed me. When we were alone again, I glared at him while he whistled. I got out on my floor, flipping him off before the doors closed.

I heard Beatrice laughing hysterically as she caught my obscene gesture. I turned to see her hands up in defense as I gave her the evil eye. "What did he do?"

I shook my head as I pulled my phone out of my pocket to send a quick text.

DALLAS: I don't want to be your friend.

DEAN: That makes two of us.

DALLAS: That's not what I meant. Keep your hands and mouth off of me! It's assault!

DEAN: That's not what your tongue told me.

DALLAS: Go to hell.

DEAN: I was there yesterday, naked and on top of you.

I let out a frustrated groan as I threw up my hands. I spent the latter part of my shift cursing in frustration as I finished my charts alone in my office.