My Doctor’s My Old Crush, I Lied

Chapter 3

The old lady immediately silenced the “mistaken” Elliott.

She shot him a glare, then turned back to me with her kind face on and gently asked for details herself.

I forced myself to answer, half-truths and stalling.

Every sentence made my back colder.

That icy stare stayed pinned on me the whole time, making my skin crawl.

“When was the last time?” the old lady asked.

“Uh… this morning,” I lied.

“Did you use protection?”

I froze.

In the corner, the hand gripping the broken pen tightened until his fingertips dug into his palm.

I wanted to bite my tongue off.

Once you start lying, you have to keep going.

I somehow survived until she finished writing the prescription. I snatched it, practically leaped out of the chair, thanked her, and fled.

I thought I’d escaped.

Head down, clutching the bag of meds, I hurried down the long hallway, through the parking lot, and was about to get in my car—

“Quinn.”

His voice came from behind.

My whole body stiffened like someone had dumped ice water on me.

He’d followed me out. He’d changed out of the white coat into a simple black hoodie, left hand casually in his pocket.

Seven years later, he was taller, broader in the shoulders, his face sharper and more defined.

But those eyes were still cold.

“Why are you running?” He strode over, looking down at me. “You’re my patient. Follow-ups and check-ins are my responsibility.”

Ha.

The little bit of bitterness in my chest instantly turned to anger.

I lifted my chin and met his gaze, refusing to back down.

“No need, Dr. Shaw.”

“I chased you for almost two years as a freshman.”

“Do you remember how many coffees I brought you? You never finished a single one. You’d just leave them on a bench and forget.”

“On your birthday, I spent a whole month working up the courage to leave a gift at your locker. You just said ‘thanks’ and never even opened it.”

“How many times did I save you a seat in the library? How many texts did I send that you ignored? How many times did I stand in the rain outside your apartment like an i***t—remember any of that?”

“You told me yourself I was just a kid with a temporary crush and that I shouldn’t waste my time.”

“I listened. I transferred schools, moved halfway across the country.”

“And now, seven years later, you show up as my thoughtful doctor?”

His face visibly paled.

“Such a hypocrite,” I laughed coldly, but my voice started shaking. “Whether my p***y hurts or not has nothing to do with you, Elliott Shaw.”

I turned to open the car door.

He grabbed my wrist.

His grip was shockingly strong, forcing me to face him.

He leaned down, voice low and hoarse, filled with something I’d never seen before—

“Quinn, do you really think… it was what you believed back then?”

I froze.

The wind blew through the empty parking lot, stirring up chaos in my chest.

The rainy day from freshman year flashed into my mind without warning.

When he handed me his umbrella, what had been hidden behind those lowered lashes? I hadn’t seen it back then.

But I still used every ounce of strength to yank my hand away.

I was scared.

Scared that if I heard his explanation, the hard shell I’d grown over seven years would crumble under a few words from him.

“I don’t want to know.”

I got in the car, slammed the door, started the engine, and drove away without looking back.

In the rearview mirror, he stood there alone, getting smaller until he was just a blurry dot.

I gripped the steering wheel as tears fell onto my lap.

Liar.

I was lying to myself.