The Good Ones Go

Knock, knock. The pair of knuckles against the wooden door echo through the small office space Chelsea sits in. She's clicking through charts and entering patient histories from today's consultations when the thumping at her office door interrupts her. She uncrosses her bare legs beneath her pencil skirt and readjusts in her seat as her eyes flutter up watching the door open. When Colson's head pokes through the crack she offers him a smile and shuts her laptop.

"Richard, hey," her voice is a high squeak as the words leave her lips. She's happy to see him.

Colson pulls the door ajar further, just enough for him to slide into the space before he shuts it quietly. His dark jeans sit snuggly along his hips, and his Guns N' Roses shirt lifts enough to give her a glimpse of his bare tattooed belly as he stretches his arms in front of her and lets out a yawn. He looks down at her with tired eyes before his forehead begins to crease.

"Do you ever go home?" he asks as he sits down on the black leather office chair in front of her desk. She's wearing the same clothes she was in yesterday. He remembers because he called her early in the morning, bribing her into sitting down for coffee.

Chelsea averts her gaze at his question. The idea of home still makes her uncomfortable, and she can almost feel her compass spinning out of control as she struggles to answer the question.

"Even fancy docs like you need sleep," he tells her. His words are playful, but his tone is as serious as the bags under her eyes. He's worried about her. Since she's split with Adam she seems broken. Lost. He wants to save her, but he knows she doesn't want him to.

"What did Goltsiker say?" she asks, more interested in how their appointment went than being lectured.

"Casie is officially 100% cancer-free. Five years old and my little girl is already my hero," he chuckles as he tells her the good news, taking a few steps to sit down in front of her.

"That's amazing, Richard. I'm so happy this worked out for the both of you," she says with a grin on her lips.

Colson can't help but feel mesmerized by the smile on her face. Thirty years old, overworked, and sleep deprived, yet Chelsea is still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"I don’t know what I would've done with out you," he admits to her. He offers her a smile, but, though it's genuine, it's not half as brilliant as hers.

"So," she's nervous about bringing it up again, "what's the plan now?" Her right canines are sinking into the inside of her lip in anticipation, and she can feel her hands getting clammy.

He listens to her speak, the nerves behind her words don't slip past him as he offers her a smirk. She's cute when she's on edge like this. "I told you," he starts as he stares right at her, "you point to a place on the map, and I'll get us there."

Chelsea laughs. "I think it's a bit more complicated than that, Richard," she tells him looking down at her legs. He makes her nervous.

"Has Adam sent you the papers?" his tone is serious now, and his eyes are peering into hers fishing for answers.

Chelsea can't help but fiddle with her naked finger. Her mind flashes with an image of Adam's sad eyes before it unloads a plethora of visions of Travis that make her heart sink. Moving on is hard. It must be for Adam too, because she'd dropped the papers off three weeks ago, and he still hasn't returned them.

"We don't have to wait, you know. There's nothing binding you to Baltimore. The legal stuff can be dealt with wherever you are, except maybe an island, but I'm hoping you'll want to stay relatively close to civilization," he tries to lighten the mood with a joke as he allows his body to slightly slouch in the chair. He's comfortable with her.

"Don't you want to be in LA?" she inquires trying her best to avoid talking about her divorce.

"I want to be wherever you do," he admits. He's not quite sure what they're doing, but it feels so goddamn right so he's not going to question it. He'll do whatever she wants him to - he'll take Chelsea any way he can get her.

"I can practice medicine anywhere," she tells him. His music, and his acting, needs him to be in California. It's where he'll thrive, where he'll be happy regardless of her.

He nods, "I'll buy you a globe. You close your eyes and spin it, and we'll go where your finger lands." It's cheesy - his words, his actions. He's relocating for her. Wherever they go Casie is young enough to adjust well, and he's slept in the dirt so he's not worried about himself.

"Richard, don't be silly," she smiles and rolls her eyes at him playfully. They may be making a stupid rash decision, but she won't let them gamble with their lives. She knows where he needs to be, and right now she thinks she needs to be where he is. "LA it is. You can take me for ice cream and a Ferris wheel ride on the pier," she teases him. California is alluring. It's a risk she thought she'd take with Travis, but that ship has sailed.

"You sure? We don’t have to go somewhere so high profile," he's worried that she'll hate it. All she's ever known is Cleveland and Baltimore, and LA is like a whirlwind hurricane compared to that.

Chelsea shrugs, "I guess I could get behind Jared Goff's Rams."

Colson rolls his eyes at her, "okay, sure, we all know your loyalty lies with that baby blue clad trash you call a team."

"Hey, hey, hey! Just 'cause you think we're friends now doesn't mean you get to shit talk my Panthers," she says feigning offense as she brings her hand to her chest.

Colson laughs at her dramatics. It feels good to make her laugh, to know that her smile is there because of him. "LA it is, and if the NFL fails us we've always got Golden State, right?" he jokes. He misses this.

Chelsea listens to him crack his knuckles as he talks, and her mind can't help but to flutter back to Travis. There isn't a bone in his body that man doesn't crack, and the distinct popping sounds only remind her of him.

“Chels?” the deep bass voice calls out to her awaiting a response.

“Hmm?” she asks struggling to peel her eyes off his bony hands.

“I was asking if you’re sure you want to do this?” he repeats himself wondering what she’s thinking about. Maybe not what, but who.

“I’ll put my two weeks in today,” she tells him as her eyes jolt up to meet his. She needs a change of scenery. It's time to start taking risks.

"Chelsea," Colson adjusts in his seat. He's surprised that she's ready to go so fast. He doesn't want her to make a decision for the sake of running away. "Are you sure? I mean you could look for a job first before we go. There's no rush," he wants her to think this through because he doesn't want her to resent him.

Ugh. Why is he being the responsible one right now? She wants him to convince her to let him sweep her off her feet, to make a mistake with him.

Colson watches her face fall, and he instantly regrets warning her because she's adult enough to make her own decisions. "I mean, it doesn't matter. You don't have to work right away. A little vacation won't kill you," he offers with a smile on his face. "You look like you could use it," he jokes reaching up to pull the skin under his eyes down in attempt to make fun of her.

"Fuck you," her hearty chuckle reverberates through the office, and Colson can't help but smile at the sound of her genuine laughter. He can imagine LA with her, and he's finding himself unable to wait for those two weeks to be up.



Chelsea is wearing a pair of denim shorts and a loose floral tank top as her Louboutins clack across the tile floor of the airport. Her black Givenchy cross-body purse is nestled against her hip as she walks, and the Prada sunglasses that sit on her face are more than a fashion statement as the hot California sun beats down on her bare arms, heating her up as soon as they step foot outside. It's obvious by her pale skin that she's not a native, and she hopes the amount of SPF she'll have to use from now on doesn't break the bank. Even in late March the California air is 70 degrees, and after living with snow the past few months it feels like summer to Chelsea.

The cab ride from the airport is relatively short, and as Colson struggles to drag their two large bags behind him he's glad they traveled alone. Casie is staying with her grandmother for the next two weeks while the pair settle down. It's his back up plan incase Chelsea decides that this is a spur of the moment midlife crisis, and wants to go back. He loves her, but he has to be responsible for Casie's sake now.

"Holy shit," Chelsea murmurs as she follows Colson up the steps of a lavish looking house on the corner of 14th and Carlyle. "How much did this cost you?" she asks bewildered. It's the size of a fucking village. Who needs this much space? She thought the home Adam bought was too extravagant for them, and here she is walking into a mansion in LA with so much space you'd get lightheaded from all the extra oxygen.

Colson shrugs in response to her question as he shuts the door behind them. "7 or 8 million. Not sure," he knows his tone is rather flippant, but if he's honest money's not an issue. He watches Chelsea gulp and nod her head hoping this isn't making her uncomfortable.

"Okay," she laughs, "I guess I'm calling that cab back to drive me to the projects somewhere because I can't afford anything in this area." She spins around slowly taking in the luxurious furnishings that are surprisingly free of dust. He must get it cleaned.

"Chelsea don't be ridiculous. It's a four bedroom house, and you're more than welcome to stay," Colson looks over at her wishing she'd take those sunglasses off so he can see what she's thinking. He doesn't know if living together is even a good idea, but she's right: North of Montana isn't exactly middle class.

Chelsea purses her lips without saying a word. She's wondering what she's gotten herself into as she kicks her stilettos off in fear of ruining the floors. She can feel her anxiety bourgeoning as she steps further into the home, and she runs a hand through her hair in worry that this risk is too big to start with. She turns at the sound of footsteps to see Colson heading up the stairs. Reluctantly she follows him.

"So the master is upstairs, and Casie's room is right next to it. It's the only other furnished room in the house, and I know it's only got a twin bed, but we can go get you some furniture tomorrow if you can tough it out for the night," he jokes as he rubs the back of his neck nervously. He pushes open the girl's bedroom as he looks at Chelsea's face for a reaction. Those damn sunglasses.

"I really," she begins with a sigh, "I don't know if I can accept this Richard. I mean, I knew LA meant fancy, but this is…" she doesn't know how to react. It's too much. Too lavish. It's not right to take advantage of this, especially since they've barely broken new ground in their friendship again.

"Stop," his face is dead serious as his hands settle firmly on her bare shoulders. The feel of her warm skin sends a shock through his body, and he has to hold back a shiver. "You don't need to worry about money, okay? You'll start working whenever you decide to, and I have no problem with you staying here," he reinforces as he reaches up to push her glasses to the top of her head. Her hazel eyes are cloudy with thought, and he can feel himself let go of the breath he was holding at the sight of them staring back at him.

"Cole," she sighs again holding his gaze. This is the worst idea. What has she gotten herself into?

"Chelsea, we slept on old dirty mattresses together next to 50 year old homeless addicts. It's okay to enjoy the other side of life together too," he reminds her. As he speaks he feels the need to straighten his posture as if he can feel the old springs digging into his back by a mere recollection. He watches her eyes flutter left and right before giving in. When she doesn't say a word he knows he's won the battle. He reluctantly separates himself from her to wheel her suitcase in, and when he turns back around he finds her eyes jumping from corner to corner taking in the surroundings.

Chelsea knows it's only Colson, but she can't help to feel self-conscious. Sure she's wearing a couple thousand dollars right now, but compared to what she's surrounded by she feels like she's in rags. He's right. They never had much, but that's changed. He has a lot now, and she thought she did, but now she sees she'll never come this far. It makes her uncomfortable. She feels like she's mooching, and she doesn't want to give him the wrong idea. He should know her by now, but it's been so long, and she doesn't even know herself.

"Come on, let me show you around," Colson says as she steps out of the room and grabs a hold of her hand. He guides her toward the stairs and is content when he hears her follow him.

Outside Chelsea can't help but let her jaw drop at the generous gardens. The sculpted shrubs are so classy, and the pool is large enough for a bus full of people. The dark wicker furniture covers the deck, and the play set to the right is big enough to be a public playground. "This is…" she has no words to describe the awe she's in. She's proud of him. He has everything they dreamed of when they were kids.

"Different from Baltimore," he chuckles, "and much different from Cleveland." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his Addidas shorts as he takes a moment to admire his home.

"You must've been miserable living in Baltimore again after having left all this behind," she allows herself to say. His life definitely improved after she left him. She had held him back from moving to Cali. Chelsea and her John Hopkins dream shackled him across the country far from his own dream. She thinks leaving him is probably the best thing she's done because it gave him the opportunity to achieve this on his own.

"Chelsea, I'm not a snob," he laughs at her comment. They spent the majority of their lives struggling. Chelsea's full scholarship at college saved their lives, and even though med school was expensive, they managed until he began selling albums at a sustainable rate. "Is it a crime to enjoy things I've earned?" he asks her with a grin. He's proud of everything he's made possible. There is no doubt that he's done it for himself, but if he has to tell the truth, he never envisioned it without her by his side.

She doesn't say anything, she just offers him a smile. Travis is on her mind again. She had kept him from moving to California too, though she knows he'd never admit it. If it wasn't for her he'd have been here a long time ago. Is it selfish for her to run from him to the one place she kept him from being? Everything she's doing is selfish. Travis will never forgive her, but she'll probably never forgive herself either.



It's been a couple days since they've been in LA, and Chelsea still hasn't gotten used to the luxury. Colson has been pestering her to make a trip to the store, but she refuses every time saying that Casie's bedroom will do for a few more days. She's been Googling places to stay, and she's found a couple mediocre one bedrooms for rent in West Los Angeles, but even those were at a steep $1,500 a month. Her nights she spends cuddled up under Casie's princess blanket filling out job applications, and she has her heart set on Cedars-Sinai, which would only be a 15 minute drive. She hasn't mentioned anything to Colson, but she knows she needs to set some plans in motion.

Ignoring his pestering about furniture that afternoon, she manages to convince him to stay in and make some popcorn. As much as she wants to go out and explore the depths of LA, she doesn't want to set a trap for herself in which she has to spend a penny of his money to settle herself into his home. Just like they have been for the past three hours, they still sit on his living room couch cuddled under a blue and white Tommy Hilfiger blanket. Colson's body is leaned against her, and his head is on her shoulder with their eyes locked on the 60" 4k screen a few feet away.

Chelsea lets out a chuckle at the closing joke of the Netflix stand up they're watching, and Colson can feel the vibrations in her chest. A yawn escapes her lips as she tries to stretch on the couch before realizing how close she is to him. She turns her head wearily, scared of his reaction. Trying to change the sudden tension she feels she says, "that was pretty good." Her eyes are peering down to the head nestled on her shoulder, and she's beating herself up because she knows he can hear her heart thumping out of her chest.

Colson meets her gaze and nods in agreement before he realizes that he's nuzzling even closer. He stops himself as he tries not to gulp. He has to know.

"What are we doing here, Chels?" he asks her, and she almost blushes at the feel of his breath on her neck. The way he stares up at her from under his long eyelashes makes her forget how to breath.

"I don't know," she whispers mesmerized by the closeness of his body to hers. She thinks she wants to kiss him, but she knows it's her loneliness talking.

Colson takes the moment to move away, scared that he'll do something stupid to fuck this up. "We flew across the whole country. I mean you quit your job, packed your clothes, and left your home with me. What is this?" He doesn't want to pressure her into defining anything, but he needs to know if he's been permanently friend zoned, or if there's a chance that they can try again.

Chelsea sighs looking down at the blue chevron blanket that’s covering her lap. "I, um, I told you. I just, I just need a change of scenery," she stumbles over her words as she tries to reason with her emotions.

"So we're going back home then?" he asks almost disappointed. He shouldn't be. This is a vacation then, and she's spending it with him. That's progress.

"I, um," she's nervous, "I, uh, I really wasn't planning on it." If she was then she would have taken a vacation from work, not quit. John Hopkins was probably the best opportunity she'd ever have, and she left it. Still, it's for the best. At least she's trying to convince herself of that.

"Okay then why can't we get you settled in?" He doesn't understand what she's avoiding.

"Because I've been looking for apartments," she admits nibbling on her lip and keeping her eyes low.

"Apartments? Chels, you're not even working," he laughs because he thinks she's being silly. She doesn't have to go.

"Okay, but I will be," she retorts as if she's offended. She can take care of herself.

He doesn't mean to upset her. "Okay, but you don't have to," he tells her wearily. He watches her furrow her brows, and he's worries its too late - maybe he's already fucked it up.

"What do you mean I don't have to? I can't move to the most expensive area of the fucking country just too mooch off my ex-boyfriend," she rolls her eyes, and she can see him shift uncomfortably at the label she gives him. "Besides, I want to work. I like what I do," she adds defensively. She wants to heal people because she doesn't know how to heal herself.

"First of all it's not mooching. I invited you here, and I love you. I have no problem taking care of you for once," he tells her, struggling to keep a straight face. "Second, if you want to work then work, but I don't want you to leave again," he admits. He wants her there, with him. He'd even venture to say forever if she asked him. If this is his only chance, he won't let it slip through his fingers again.

"Richard," she sighs. "I just really don’t feel comfortable accepting this," she whispers toward his chiseled face. He's not as close as he was a few minutes ago, but she still feels as if she can feel his breath on her skin, and her head is crying at her that this is a mistake.

"Okay, Chelsea, I'll compromise. If you want an apartment then get an apartment, but don't rush it. At least wait until you start working. We won't buy any furniture. Casie will stay with her grandmother 'til your completely settled. Let's take it slow," he's trying to meet her half way, but even he's not sure if he's suggesting they take the relocating slow or their relationship.



When her alarm rings that morning Chelsea groans. It's a dreadful day. It's been 16 days since they've landed in LA. April 12th. It's Travis' birthday today, and it's also hers. Chelsea stands up and stretches. It's only 8 and she's sure Colson won't be up yet. She leaves the room in her underwear to make herself some coffee, but she leaves her phone where it is, not bothering to even check it. She's scared she'll cave and send him a message, or even worse call him.

She puts a pod in the Keurig and hits the brew button. The whirring of the coffee maker muffles the footsteps coming down the stairs, and Chelsea jumps at the sight of her ex boyfriend in his boxers standing across from her as she turns around to set her mug on the island.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you," he says, watching her push up the long sleeves of her shirt nervously. She tries to hide behind the counter, but at the angle he's standing she's unsuccessful, and his eyes can't help but linger on the playful pair of underwear a little too long. His eyes follow the Christmas lights that stream across her panties until he hears her clear his throat.

"I didn't think you'd be up so soon," he admits, forcing himself to bring his gaze up to her face. "I came down to make you breakfast," he admits as he takes a couple slow steps towards her, circumventing the island.

Chelsea gulps as she watches him. Her eyes want to devour his naked body, but she forces them to stay locked on his own even though she knows the blush is creeping up her cheeks. She can feel him getting closer, and her heart begins to beat so fast she thinks it'll stop.

Colson watches her reaction, and he can tell that she's scared. He knows she's stopped breathing because her chest isn't moving anymore. He doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, but, shit, her body is like a fucking magnet, and he can't stop himself from walking toward her.

Chelsea gulps. It feels like they’ve been standing there for an eternity until he finally reaches her. Everything disappears from the periphery, and Chelsea feels like she's in a dream when Colson's warm hand finds it's way to her cheek. The caress is so gentle she's almost unsure if it's real, but then when she feels him push her hair behind her ear, and his fingers trail down her neck, she's sure it's happening. Suddenly she feels like she's falling, and then there is a whisper at the nape of her neck tickling the outskirts of her ear as it says, "happy birthday, Chelsea."

Chelsea squeezes her eyes shut feeling dizzy, and when she reopens them she realizes Colson's arms are wrapped around her, and all she can smell is coffee and his deodorant as she finds herself sinking into his grasp.

"You didn't forget your own birthday, did you?" he almost mocks as he pulls back to look at her. He can feel her shake in his arms, and he's confused. When he steps back his eyes lock on her face, and he's surprised that she looks as if she's seen a ghost. "Are you okay?" he asks suddenly worried.

"Yea, I'm fine," she forces a chuckle as she turns around and takes a gulp of her black coffee. "I guess I did forget," she lies through her teeth in hopes that he won't notice. She could never forget. It's Travis' birthday. It's replaying in her mind over and over again, and she feels like crying when she realizes this will be the first birthday they've spent apart since they've met.

Colson is unsure of what to say. She looks sad, and he doesn't recognize why. If she misses Adam she can tell him. He won't judge her. He'll understand. "Okay, well," he wants to segway to a more comfortable topic. "I was thinking we could go out tonight, that is, if you're up for it," he raises an eyebrow at his own suggestion.

Chelsea is staring down at her mug. "Richard, I just turned thirty. I don't think the club is my ideal celebration," she laughs at the thought of her dancing in a room full of barely legal drunk kids. When she hears his hearty laugh she can't help but look up and admire how blissfully happy he looks in the moment.

"I didn't mean the club. I mean we can go for dinner, or to a bar, or to a movie, or to the beach," he stops himself because he realizes it sounds like he's asking her out on a date. "Anything you wanna do. I just want you to have a good time," he concludes as he bites his lip in anticipation of her response.

"You know what?" she says allowing a grin to grace her features. "I sure could use a couple drinks," she admits, still uncomfortable by their closeness. He was supposed to be home, but the awkwardness she feels makes her doubt her conclusion, and she desperately wants to be under the influence right now.

"Bar it is," he tells her with a grin. Maybe he could make this a night she won't forget.