The Good Ones Go

"Jesus, Brenda," Chelsea sighs out in frustration. Her heels are clicking continuously against the hospital floor as she walks into the clinic. "I, I just can't," she shakes her head as if her lawyer can see her. Her eyes roll at the response she gets, and she can feel her heart rate accelerating at the proposition. "Why don't you call him and tell him to man the hell up?" she's frustrated at the fact that she's been waiting for Adam for half a year now, but when her eyes land on Charles she feels her heart skip a beat.

The protests on the line are upsetting her, and she gives in mostly because she doesn't want to do this right now, "fine. I'll call him whenever I get a chance. I'm at work now." She sets her purse on the counter of the nurse's station, feeling the man's blue eyes burning into her back. When she hears Brenda say goodbye, she throws the phone into her bag with a groan and squeezes her eyes shut.

"You okay?" his voice is like velvet. It settles around her frame like a hug, and Chelsea turns to look up at the nurse with a weak smile.

"I'm fine, Charlie, thank you," she sighs out, wishing she could filter that irritation out of her voice. Her hands reach for the clipboard, but her eyes stay glued to him. His dark brown hair is gelled back, and he's shaved his stubble since last night.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry," he offers, hoping she won’t hold it against him. He suddenly feels self-conscious beneath her gaze.

"How could you be prying if I'm having the conversation in front of you?" she takes a step forward to place on cold hand on his broad shoulder in comfort. She can feel the muscles underneath, and it makes her stomach flip so she lets go too soon for her liking.

Charles nods before looking at his feet. He's hesitant. He likes her. "So that guy you're living with," he starts to say as he clears his throat nervously. "Is he, like, your boyfriend or…" his southern accent is thick in the moment, and he's praying she can't tell how foolish he feels.

"Charlie," her voice is a soft whisper by the time it finds his ears, and she can see his face fall.

"I, uh, I'm sorry Dr. Descarte. I'm being awfully unprofessional here," he's disappointed because he enjoyed his time with her last night, but she's out of his league and obviously unavailable.

"Charlie, you're a great guy," she sighs, and when he looks up at her to hear the excuse she can feel the breath catch in her chest. Those blue fucking eyes. They're just as piercing as Richard's are. "My life is complicated," she admits. There's no other excuse. If she wasn't so wrapped up in her old life, she'd give him a chance.

"Chelsea," the name rolls off his tongue in that country drawl, and she almost melts in her spot. He can see her cheeks flush, but he ignores it. "You don't have to come up with excuses. If you didn't enjoy yourself, I get it," his voice is a whisper now as his eyes dart around to make sure they're not drawing any attention.

Chelsea's eyes follow his, and without even realizing it, her hand has a hold of his elbow and is leading him to the locker room.

Charles' brows are furrowed as he follows her. Her lab coat is fluttering around her body, and he can't seem to tear his eyes away from her milky thighs. "Chelsea," he whispers, confused. What is she doing?

Chelsea waits 'til the door shuts behind them. Her breath is ragged as she listens to him call her name again, and she can't stand the fact that he's pushing just the right buttons. God, it's been too fucking long since she's had sex, and she doesn't know how to walk away right now.

"Look, I get it," Charles starts, and to his surprise he doesn't get to finish because there are a pair of soft lips on his, and a pair of cool hands on his biceps pinning him against the door. He's pulling off her white labcoat as his fingers feel every inch of her body that he can reach. The kiss is anything but romantic. He can feel the need, the pain, the confusion. The softness of her skin juxtaposed with the hardness of her desire doesn't let him stop her.

"Chelsea," he whispers when she finally lets him go.

"Charlie. I'm sorry, this is a bad idea," she sighs out with her body still pressed firmly against his. She's being unfair. "I don't want to be selfish. I'm in love with someone else, and I'd be lying if I said this could go anywhere," she admits to him breathlessly while wondering what the hell has gotten into her.

Charles takes a deep breath and gives her a nod, "I want to tell you to be selfish, but we both know that'd be the testosterone talking." The smile on his face is forgiving, and she hangs on to it like it's her saving grace.

"I don't think I'm gonna stay today," she manages to say before she gulps. She watches Charlie take a step back without a word, and she doesn't hesitate to reach for the door. His blue eyes burn into the back of her mind as she nearly runs out of the hospital. Her hand sends a shaky text to Colson not to pick her up because she's already on her way, and she's right on time at the bus stop because the bus pulls up, and she chooses to stand as the nerves running through her body are making her too jittery to sit.

Walking up through the driveway she pulls the keys out of her purse. They jingle in the door knob, and when she gets it open she wastes no time kicking her heels off and making a beeline for the kitchen. There's one Sierra left in the fridge, and she doesn’t feel guilty when she pops the top open and takes a good gulp.

"Hey, are you okay?" Colson walks into the kitchen with a raised brow. His eyes are on the bottle in her hands before they land on the eyes that seem to shake in front of him.

Chelsea swallows as she stares up at him. Those fucking blue eyes. She's been fighting so hard to move on, and Travis comes up here like he's set on fucking with her life. Her gaze travels down his naked torso, and the memories of him getting every tattoo her gaze lands on flash before her eyes. She feels the warm sensation overcome her, and she can feel the alcohol swimming to her head on her empty stomach.

"You brought someone home last night," she tells him as she finishes the rest of the bottle. She reminds herself there isn't another one waiting for her, and she tries to stand firm amongst the anxiety shrouding her.

Richard's eyes dart back and forth trying to read the expression on her face. "Yea, I'm sorry. I heard you leave. I shouldn't have done that without talking to you first," he feels guilty that he didn't stop himself, but he needed to feel the high because she broke his heart for the millionth time.

Chelsea stares at him. She's surprised by his confidence, his demeanor. He's not lying. He's apologizing. She's heard his sorries too many times, but this time it's different. He doesn't owe her anything. The muscles on his arms flex as he runs a hand through his hair, and she can feel herself going up in flames. Goddamn it. Travis's brown eyes are in the back of her mind right now, and she can almost see the disapproval in them as she licks her lips.

"Chelsea?" Colson's voice calls. He watches her from across the room. She silently glides over to him, and he's in a trace because her eyes are fixed on his, and he doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on because her lips are on his too, and he can't stop himself from reaching up and losing his hand in her wavy locks.

Chelsea is running her tongue along her ex-boyfriend's lower lip, and when she feels him open his mouth to sink his teeth into her, she lets out a deafening moan that makes him weak in the knees. Colson's hands are running down her body, and her fingers are working on the zipper of his jeans before they're hooked against his boxer briefs. Before he knows it, he's naked, and his hands are in the cups of her bra pushing it over her chest to pinch her hardening nipples. She lets out a yearning moan as he slides his fingers down to push her skirt up. She can feel his hard dick against her bare thigh, and her breathing accelerates as she imagines it inside of her.

The resonating ring of the doorbell pulls her back to reality, and she stumbles backwards as she lets go of him. Colson stares at her as he listens to the ring again. Her hand is on her lips, and she's perfectly aware that she's completely exposed to him, but right now she's trying to rein herself in mentally. Colson clears his throat before he leans down to pull the pants pooled around his ankles back up. He walks away to answer the door, and she swears out loud as she tries to recompose herself. Her eyes fall on a bottle of Jack lingering on the counter, and she rushes to pour herself some. When his lanky body resurfaces around the corner she runs a hand through her hair as she looks over at him and takes a sip. What is she going to say to fix this?

"It's for you," he tells her. His jaw is locked, and she can tell he's gritting his teeth. She furrows her brows as she watches him walk away to reveal Travis' tall frame lingering behind him.

"Travis," she manages as her eyes tail Colson's back before it disappears from view. She feels so small under that chestnut gaze, as if he could tell what had just transpired in the kitchen.

"My flight is in a few hours, and I didn't want to leave without seeing you," he admits. His hands are in his pockets to keep himself from fidgeting, and she can see him biting on the inside of his cheek as she admires his features. She watches him give in and reach up to mess with his nose ring, and she's almost tempted to apologize and admit what she's done.

"Do you have time for a coffee?" he asks as he eyes the glass in her hands. She's been drinking a lot lately, and he's not sure that she's handling this move as well as she wants him to think.

"Come on," is all she says as she begins to walk through the house. She knows he's admiring everything as they walk, but she doesn’t wait for him because her hands are shaking, and her breath is out of control. She slides open the patio doors and lets out a sigh at the pack of cigarettes sitting on the table. She steps out barefoot and reaches for the box, lighting one before he can even slide the doors shut behind them.

"What are you doing here, Chelsea?" Travis asks watching her breath the smoke out through her nose. She's panicking, and he doesn't know why.

"Fuck, Travis, don't you listen to a fucking word?" she groans as she takes another drag.

"Okay, Chelsea, you needed a change of scenery, but what the fuck are you doing here with him?" he reaches for the box in her hand, and doesn't fail to notice her flinch at the touch of his finger. Lighting the cigarette, he enjoys the burn in his throat as he watches her shift her weight in front of him nervously.

"Look, I know you're not with him. Last night cleared that up, so how about you cut the bullshit, and tell me the fucking truth?" he says, looking at her with a bowed head as the velvet leaves his lungs.

Chelsea gives him a warning look. "I don't think I owe you shit," she tells him with an eye roll.

"You don't," he admits with a breath, and it surprises the hell out of her. "Still, I care about you, and I'd appreciate if you'd share what's going on it that head of yours," his face softens as he speaks because really, he's not mad, he's scared - terrified of losing her.

Chelsea throws the glass back. Her eyes close at the burning sensation in her throat as the liquor trickles down in attempt to drown out her pain. She sets the glass down on the table and settles into a chair, taking another drag. How could she tell him the truth now? He's trying to move on, and she needs to let him. "Look," she sighs, "I'd be lying if I said I'm okay. I'm not, but I'm trying to be. I don't blame you for trying to move on," she pauses to take another hit because she feels she needs the courage. "It doesn't mean that what you did hurts any less. There's nothing else to tell. I'm a big girl, and I'm trying to move on with my life," she's determined to hold that position.

Travis nods. He feels defeated, but it's his own fault. He was hoping for something more, but it's evident he's not getting it from her. "Okay, Chelsea," he says softly. His foot scuffs across the concrete as if he's trying to clean it, and his hands are back in the pockets of his bomber jacket. He looks up at her, eyes squinting from the glare of the sun, and says, "I'm sorry for the things I said. If you need me, you know where I'll be." He doesn’t wait for a response because he knows she doesn't have one.

Chelsea watches as Travis slides the patio door open again, and when his body disappears she lets out a sigh. What the fuck happened to them? A kiss? That should've made them stronger. Instead he decided to run, and now he's mad at her for running too? She puts out her cigarette and walks back inside. Richard isn’t downstairs, and she's glad because she doesn’t even know how to face him right now.

Her phone is vibrating across the marble counter, and Chelsea looks down at it in surprise at the name flashing across the screen. “Rico?” She picks up anxiously, wondering what could possibly warrant a call from him.

“Chels, hey, been a while huh?” He's almost nervous as he speaks. “How you been doing without us?” He tries to recompose himself by straightening his back in the chair as if she could see him through the phone.

“Fine, I’d like to think,” she snickers a little as she leans against the counter, a smile making it's way across her face.

"Well, we miss you," he tells her. He can imagine the grin on her face at the words, and it makes him smile.

"Oh you're full of shit. What do you need?" she jokes as she throws her hair back behind her shoulders. She misses him too, and the hospital. She can almost picture him in some pastel colored button up frantically typing away at his Macbook Pro, yelling at her for one thing or another.

"So our annual fundraiser is tomorrow, and I know you don't really care, but it would be weird without you," he says, biting on his lip. He really wants her to say she'll come even though he knows it's a stretch.

"I don't know, Rico. I haven't seen Adam since I left, and it just doesn't sound like a good idea," the frown on her face is evident in her voice. She always hated that fundraiser anyway.

"Okay, so don't come for Adam. Don't even say hi if you don’t want to. The team misses you. Plus, you're the best out of all of us at hustling rich guys out of their donations," he chuckles, hoping to lighten the mood.

Chelsea groans at his statement, squeezing her eyes shut. "Okay, I'll be there," she gives in. She can feel her stomach drop as her mouth does the opposite of what her brain tells it to, and she's already scolding herself for it.

"Can't wait," Rico says on the other end before hanging up.

Chelsea lets out a dramatic sigh. This is probably the best way to face Adam anyway. She could make a weekend out of it, and leave with those signed papers in her hand. Her eyes flutter to the stairwell in thought, and when she realizes there's no way she could do this alone, her feet carry her up the steps to the master bedroom. She doesn’t bother to knock, and when she lets herself in Colson is sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

Cole looks up at the opened door. He sighs and reaches back to run a hand through his hair and tie it. "Chels, about earlier -" he tries to apologize, but Chelsea cuts him off.

"It's fine. We're both dealing with some stuff, and we almost did something stupid, but we didn't," she says frantically. The thought of it makes her heart race, because she'd never be able to look Travis in the eye if it did happen, but she stays cool and waves it off as Colson raises a brow.

"Okay, but last night -" she doesn't let him finish that thought either. He doesn't need to apologize for being with someone else.

"It's fine, just next time maybe give me a heads up. I don't care who you're with, I'd just prefer not to have to listen to it," she flashes him a smirk, and he rolls his eyes at her.

"Okay, so we're good then?" he stands up and finds himself immediately regretting it because the way his body towers over her makes him want to pick her up and throw her on the bed. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can't help himself from imagining that she's still standing in front of him naked.

Chelsea nods and says, "I'm going back to Baltimore tomorrow."

"What?" the previous feelings of relief leave him immediately as panic sets in.

"Rico called me to come to the fundraiser tomorrow night," she says, licking her lips.

"Okay, let me just pack a bag," he tells her, feeling relieved that it's not what he thought it was. She's not leaving forever.

"You're not coming," she tells him firmly as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Colson gives her a surprised look asking, "why not?" He doesn't understand. If she's mad at him for allowing her to get them in a compromising position, then why did she say everything's okay?

"Because I don't want to look like an asshole. I can't bring you there. Adam's gonna be there," she tells him, earning her another eye roll and a head shake.

"Alright, whatever, Chelsea," Colson says. He's irritated by her right now, and he walks over to his dresser to pull out a small joint that he wastes no time lighting.

"Cole. It's not about you. I just don't want him to feel embarrassed. I need him to sign those papers," she tries to defend her position as she watches him take another puff wishing she could partake.

"So you're just gonna go alone? I don't have to go the stupid fundraiser, but if I'm across the country how can I help you?" If she thinks she can do this on her own, she's wrong, and he knows her better than she knows herself. When she says nothing he takes another hit, and another until he's down to the roach and feeling better.

The look on her face confuses him for a moment until he realizes what's happening. "You're taking Travis, aren’t you?" suddenly he's pissed again, and she can't even tell that he just smoked because there's nothing relaxed about his posture.

"No, I'm going to ask a friend from work," Chelsea interjects, almost offended that he thinks Travis can get to her so easily.

Colson scoffs, "fuck, Chelsea. Have some decency. You just met him, and you're gonna take him for moral support while you ask your husband for a divorce?" There goes the jealousy again. He can't believe that just an hour ago he had her naked, and now she's pushing him away again.

"Fuck you, Richard. I don't need to listen to this shit," she retorts as she turns to walk out of the room.

Colson towers over her, reaching his own hand to cover the doorknob before she can leave. He's so close he can hear her gulp, and though her body is pressed up against the door she manages to turn so she's looking up at him. He can feel his eyes get low, and every movement she makes has him feeling his dick swell in anticipation. "You need me," his voice is low as he says it, and his eyes never leave hers.

Chelsea is lost in the crystal clear sea of blue that peers into her soul. The double meaning to his words isn't lost on her, and he's not wrong. She needs someone, and it seems that she's chosen him to be the shoulder to lean on now that Travis has went awol. She wants to kiss him again. Even though she knows that is no way to deal with unresolved and misplaced feelings, she can't help but feel that knot tighten below her belly begging for release.

Colson watches her fight from squirming beneath him, and he lets out a sigh before taking a step back. "Alright, Chels, but if anything happens you call me," he tells her. He watches her gulp again and give him a weak nod, and he reaches behind her to open his bedroom door. His eyes pay close attention to that confused look she gives him, and they jump to follow the silhouette of her body as she leaves.

This is a mistake. Being here is a mistake. They're both too vulnerable, and it's too easy to fall into each other. Her feet rush to the kitchen, and she grabs her purse off the counter before hurrying through the door. If she wasn't in heels, she'd take the walk, but she knows her feet will hate her later so she scurries to the bus stop and pulls out her phone. A couple minutes is all it takes to find an early flight to Baltimore, and she books two tickets without hesitation. Just as she's about to dial a number, the honking of a horn makes her jump, and she looks up to see the man of the hour pulling up in front of her.

"Hey. I didn’t mean to scare you. You left your coat in the locker room. I was gonna call you, but I figured I might as well drop it off," he says past the rolled down window. Watching her stare at him blankly makes him feel awkward, and he clears his throat before saying, "hop in."

Chelsea doesn't hesitate. She needs a favor, and after how she left him at work, she's got to butter him up. "That was nice of you, but you could’ve just called," she insists as she puts her seatbelt on. She throws the coat over her lap, and for a second the scene in the locker room flashes before her eyes.

"This is you just around the corner, right?" he asks as he begins to drive again, wondering why she bothered to buckle up.

"Uh, no," she says before he can turn into the driveway. "I'm in West LA," she admits without looking his way. She's not sure she wants to give him an explanation right now.

"Oh, right, so that was your friend's place?" he asks feeling a little relieved that she isn't quite a millionaire yet. That evens out the playing field a bit.

"Yea. I was babysitting the night you dropped me off," she adds. Being mostly transparent might convince him to do this for her.

Charles simply gives her a nod before continuing down the road. He follows the directions she gives him, and it's not long until they're pulled up in front of a redbrick apartment building loitered with graffiti.

"Look this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel like I need the support," she looks over at him desperately hoping he'll hear her out.

"Okay, I'm listening," he says lifting a brow eagerly.

"John Hopkins has an annual fundraiser for our Onc department. It's tomorrow night, and my old coworker called asking me to come," she starts as she watches his face contort into a puzzled expression. "I know it's really short notice, but I'm flying out in the morning, and, well, I was hoping you'd come with me," she bites her lip at her own proposal, trying to quiet her heart.

"Chelsea," Charles sighs. He watches the frown inch it's way across her face, but he doesn't know what to say. He's only known her for a couple months. They’ve only been on one date, and earlier today she told him this wouldn't work, and now she's asking him to join her on a cross-country trip? "I'm a nurse, Chels. I don’t think I have any business attending something like this anyway," is the best excuse he can think of.

"I don't think you'd feel out of place," she defends before stopping herself. There's no reason to try to coerce him into this. "I have to admit I'm being pretty selfish here. It's been half a year since I've asked my husband for a divorce, and he's going to be there tomorrow. I just feel like I need a wingman, you know?"

"If you want me to come so you can make him jealous -"

"No. No. No. It's not that at all. I promise," she says frantically. She doesn't want him to think so low of her. "I'm going to ask him for the papers, and let's be honest, if shit hits the fan I need someone there to have my back," she knows her voice is laced with desperation, but some one once ssaid that honesty is the best policy.

"Well, how much are the tickets?" he asks. She seems like she needs a friend, but he doesn't know if he can handle the price tag.

"No, please. You're my guest. I'm paying for the ticket. I just need you to pack a bag and get us to the airport," she insists, waving her hand at his question dismissively.

"Chelsea, I can't accept that," he sighs as he looks down to his lap. He's a nurse, not a fucking charity case.

"Charlie," Chelsea says softly as she places a hand on his knee. It attracts his attention, and she says, "you'd be doing me a huge favor by agreeing. It's not even like a doctor thing. We're hustling people for a donation, not giving a lecture." She doesn't want him to feel like he doesn't belong. No one even has to know he's not a doctor if he's not comfortable telling them.

"When should I pick you up?" he asks with a playful eye roll.

"5 AM. Pack a carryon for a couple days. We leave at 6:30," she instructs with a satisfied grin on her face.

"Geez, and I was looking forward to sleeping in," he teases her. "Remind me never to swing by to return something to you again," he adds as he nudges her shoulder.

"I'd say you could spend the night, but you'd have no clothes," she's trying to think of way to make this easier on him.

"Well," he starts, allowing his eyes to linger on her pensive face. "If you pack a bag, you can crash at mine?" he suggests, earning a raised brow. "I'm only 20 from the airport anyway," he adds to make his case.

"Are you sure that's okay?" she asks hesitantly. She's only now realizing how crazy all of this is. She's barely met the fucking guy.

"Hey, you asked me to go across the US with you, and you think it's weird that I'm telling you that you can spend the night?" he jokes but returns to seriousness when he sees her frazzled eyes. "I'm kidding, Chelsea. It's fine. It'll make our lives easier, I think, but if you don't want to that's okay too," he tries to comfort her.

Chelsea gives him a small nod before saying, "just give me a few minutes to grab some stuff, okay?"

"You got 10, otherwise I'm bailing," he teases again, reaching over to rub her shoulder in reassurance.

Chelsea gives him a nudge as she chuckles. She pulls her seatbelt off and opens the door without a word.

Charles watches her get out of the car, and he finds himself wondering what the fuck they're even doing as his eyes trail her hips, which sway side to side with every step. This is a bad idea, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't hope for her to have a change of heart. It's a vacation, he reassures himself as he waits. Probably a learning experience too. If nothing comes out of this, at least he can say he's a damn good friend, but, still, he'd definitely be lying if he said he didn’t want more.