Filed to story: Maya Thompson and Damien Blackwood Book PDF Free
She just needed time.
The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “I know. And we’ll do what we can on our end. But try not to wait too long, Maya. The sooner we move, the better his chances for a full recovery.”
She thanked him. Shook his hand. Then held Jamie’s tighter than usual as they left the office.
They’d barely made it to the hallway when Beckett appeared.
“Maya!”
Beckett walked over quickly, too quickly. His white coat flared slightly with each step, and the forced smile on his face made her stomach twist.
“I waited earlier,” he said, holding up the takeout bag and the sad-looking rose like they were some kind of peace offering. “Didn’t see you. I thought maybe something happened.”
Jamie stepped subtly in front of her, just enough to block part of Beckett’s view. “We came in through the other entrance,” he said coolly.
Beckett blinked, clearly not expecting the interruption.
“Well… I just thought I’d catch you after your appointment. Maybe we could talk.”
Jamie’s brows pulled together. “About what?”
Maya gently touched her brother’s shoulder. “Jamie,” she said softly, then looked up at Beckett with as much calm as she could manage.
“Dr. Beckett… thank you, but I can’t accept this.” She gestured to the bag. “And I’m not comfortable with the attention. Especially the gifts. I’ve said this before, and I mean it – I’m not interested.”
Her voice didn’t waver. Not this time.
Polite. Firm. Clear.
Beckett’s smile twitched.
Not fully. Not obviously.
But it darkened.
For a second, Maya saw it.
Something twisted behind the mask.
He stepped forward, and Jamie stepped right between them.
“Maya… come on,” he said with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just being friendly.”
Jamie’s arms crossed tightly. “You’ve been ‘friendly’ enough.”
Beckett’s gaze flicked to him, then back to Maya. His voice dropped just slightly. “It’s just breakfast. No pressure.”
Maya shook her head. “No,” she said again, softer this time – but there was no room for argument.
Beckett’s jaw tightened. Just barely.
Something in his eyes shifted. Not rage. Not yet. But something darker. Quiet. Cold. Like rejection wasn’t something he was used to – and didn’t quite know how to process.
“Fine,” he said after a pause, slipping the rose into the side of the bag. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Maya said quietly, keeping Jamie close.
“Then… see you around.”
He turned without another word and walked away.
Maya didn’t breathe until he was out of sight.
“Come on, May,” Jamie said flatly. “Let’s go.”
She looked at him – and saw it then.
His posture. His tone. His narrowed eyes.
Protecting her.
That cut deeper than anything Beckett could say.
Outside, the heat wrapped around them like a blanket. Maya exhaled, rubbed her temples.
“You okay?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah,” she lied.
“You want to go somewhere?” she offered softly.
Jamie looked up at her. “It’s your off day, right?”
She nodded.
“Then let’s go home.”
Maya blinked. “You sure? We can go somewhere. Do anything you want, today’s for you.”
He smiled softly, that older-than-his-years kind of smile. “How about we grab ice cream at that place I like… then head home?”
“Home?” she repeated, surprised.
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “It’s hot out. And I kinda just want to stay in and read. Plus…” – he looked away, pretending to be nonchalant – “if I’m gonna apply to that mentorship Mr. Blackwood mentioned, I gotta get smarter, right?”
Maya felt her heart tug. She knew Jamie well enough to read between the lines.
She hugged him, soft and tight.
He wasn’t tired.
He knew she was.
She blinked fast, her throat suddenly tight. “Okay,” she whispered. “Ice cream and then home.”
Jamie slipped his hand into hers as they started walking.
And somehow… that only made her heart ache harder.
Not from fear.
But from the part of her that wished – just once that someone else would carry it for her.
Even if that someone was dangerous.
Even if that someone made her body burn.
Beckett was summoned just before 7 p.m.
The hospital’s fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as the late afternoon faded toward evening. Dr. Beckett’s office, cluttered with half-empty coffee cups and stacks of patient charts, felt more like a throne room where he ruled with a sneer and a touch of cruelty.
He’d barely finished dictating a note when the message came through – “Dr. Holloway wants to see you. Urgently.” No warning. No explanation.
The office door was already open when he arrived.
The director didn’t look up right away. He was sitting behind his desk, flipping through a manila folder with a hard, unreadable expression.
Beckett leaned against the doorway, posture casual. Arrogant.
“You rang?”
Dr. Holloway didn’t return the smirk. “Sit down.”
