by Amity Cross
“Do I need to do something about this?”
Turning, I found Max standing behind me, a stony look on his face.
“Yeah,” I shot at him. “You need to put me on the roster.”
His gaze ran over me, lingering on my arm, which was now sans cast. “And why would I do that?”
Deadpanning him, I replied, “It’s better a guy with demons fights in there, than out here.”
He watched me for a moment, considering my offer.
“I’m putting you up against one of the new guys,” he said. “Can’t have you back on that footpath.” His lips curled into a sly smile that said everything.
Grunting, I stepped around him and went out back to the locker rooms. This place had become so familiar to me since I’d started fighting here, but after two months of being away, it had lost its shine and had become something darker. Something closer to pure, untamed anger. The scent of violence hung thick in the air, and it was all I could see.
I wasn’t good enough for Sparks. I wasn’t good enough for anyone.
I sat on the bench wrapping my hands in preparation for my bout, oblivious to the other fighters around me. They were all staring like I was a moron. They got it just as much as I did, but maybe they weren’t quite as insane as I was. Getting back in the cage after the way I’d left it was practically suicide.
The scummiest, baddest, violent men came to this place to let off steam without limits. I’d counted myself as one of them before, but I’d still had my morals. After everything that had happened in the last two months, I’d come to think differently. I wasn’t the strongest or the smartest fighter, but maybe I was the worst of the lot.
Nobody wanted to cross a man with a death wish.
When the referee called my name, I strode down the hall and through the crowd like I was walking underwater. I couldn’t hear shit. I was focused on one thing and one thing only. Blood.
The moment I entered the cage, the crowd fell silent before they started talking furiously among themselves.
Toeing the line, I stood before my opponent, a guy who called himself Sabre. He was the same height and build as I was, so we were evenly matched in everything but experience. He’d started fighting right before my spectacular departure at the hands of Maverick.
“Steel,” he said, looking me up and down. “You’ve got balls.”
I sneered at him and shook out my shoulders.
“Let’s get on with it, gentleman,” the referee said. “You know the rules.”
He held his hand up between us, and before I knew it, he’d dropped it and was backing out of the way.
Sabre lunged, and I ducked as he swung high. Slamming my shoulder into his stomach, I practically carried him across the cage, riding on the wave of my anger, and threw him against the wire.
He landed hard, but I didn’t give him any room to move as I kicked him in the ribs. When he curled in on himself, I fell on him, grappling until he was forced to expose his face.
I pounded my fists into his flesh, kicking him down and smacking my knuckles hard into his temple. Blood flowed from his torn skin, mingling with the dirt and sweat that stuck to him. We rolled before being forced apart by the referee, and then we went at it again. Circling, kicking, grappling, and punching until we both bled.
Pinning Sabre on his back, I grasped his hair, lifted his head, and smashed it into the ground. He cried out in pain, his pupils dilating. Anger was driving this fight now, not me because I’d never gone as far as this. Using the dirtiest tactics there was to win, no matter what. Other guys who were the ultimate scum did, but I didn’t. Those were my morals and probably the thing that had solidified my legacy in The Underground as a mid-list fighter. Now that I’d thrown them away, I was winning with little effort. Fucking ironic.
Sabre’s fist hit the ground, tapping out before I could smash his skull again. My chest heaved as I rose to my feet, my eyes darting around the edges of the cage at the stunned punters.
Who had fucking balls now?
As I walked away, I felt an ache in my back that had never been there before. An echo rattled around in my brain, a warning that spoke to me in a voice I didn’t want to listen to. I hadn’t been hit anywhere close to my spine, but I still felt the tenderness.
Get in that cage again and you might never walk out of it.
And who was I walking for? Nobody who gave a fuck, that’s for sure.
16
Holly
I regretted leaving Josh the way I did.
He’d just stood there in the middle of the Outpatient Clinic like I’d just kicked him in the balls. I’d fucked up, I knew I had, and I wasn’t sure how to fix it. Maybe too much time had passed.
Right now, I was standing in the middle of the ER, looking just as dazed. It was a quiet night, which had given me a lot of time to think about the night we’d spent together. Against the wall, in my bed, in the shower, on the floor, on the kitchen bench, on the couch…
“Great,” Gunner declared from beside me.
“What?” I glanced up and saw a guy wandering into the ER with his palm pressed against his forehead and blood running down his face.
“It isn’t even a full moon,” she went on. “And stupid dudes go and smack their heads right when it’s time to clock off.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I’ve got it,” I said to her. “It’ll take twenty minutes tops, then I’m out for the night.”
She sighed dramatically and hugged me. “Thanks, Blue. I owe you one.”
“I’ll bank it for a rainy day.”
“You’re going to make me pay, aren’t you?” she asked, pulling away.
I smirked. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
Gunner groaned loudly as I turned to the patient.
“Sir?” I asked, approaching him. “I’m Dr. Walsh. It’s your lucky night.”
He blinked at me, looking bewildered. At first glance, he looked like he was in his mid-twenties with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. Probably good-looking enough underneath all that blood. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt that was dark with droplets of blood. Head wounds were always bleeders and made a hell of a mess without being serious at all. Still, I’d have to check his pupil response and check for concussion markers.
“I’m super lucky,” he drawled, staring at me.
“C’mon. Let’s have a look at you.” I guided him to a gurney, helped him sit, and slid the curtain around to give the guy a little privacy.
“What’s your name?” I asked, pulling up a stool in front of him.
“David,” he replied. “You’re pretty for a doctor, you know.”
I smiled and shook my head, pulling on a pair of gloves. “You’ve had a nasty knock to the head. Let’s have a look at that cut, hey?”
He let his hand fall away from the wound, and I began to dab at it with a wipe. The moment the cloth touched his broken skin, he hissed and pulled away.
“That stings like fuck,” he exclaimed.
“I’ve got to clean this up so I can see what you’ve done,” I scolded him, and he sat still, his eyes screwed shut as I cleaned the site, flushing out any dirt and bacteria. Once I was done, I got out my light and checked his pupils. Other than a headache and a slight concussion, he was all good. I’d just have to stitch him up, and send him on his way.
“Do I need stitches, Doc?” he asked, beginning to look pale.
“Yes. A couple. You’re not going to die if you’re worried about that.”
He opened his eyes and peered at me. “The pretty Doc is a comedian.”
“Hardly. What were you doing?” I asked, getting the suture kit ready.
“Would you believe me if I said I was rescuing a kitten that was stuck in a tree?”
I snorted, covering up a laugh. “If you’re asking if I’ll be impressed, probably not.”
“How old are you?” he asked. “You look pretty young to be a doctor.”
I smiled, not put off by his flirting.
“I’m old enough to do my job.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. It’s the brush off.”
“Okay, David,” I declared, getting back to the task at hand. “I’m going to give you a local anesthetic to numb the area. Apart from a slight pinch, you won’t feel a thing.”
“Good,” he said. “Needles and things going through flesh make me feel sick.” He began to pale.
“Don’t think about it,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
His gaze fixed on mine, and he swallowed hard. “That’s easier said than done.”
“You’ll be fine. I’ll look out for you.”
He took a deep breath. “Good. That would be nice. My mates left me to come in here on my own.”
“They left you alone bleeding like that?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. It had undercurrents of Josh, not as dramatic or dire, but it still brought him into my mind’s eye.
“Assholes,” he cursed.
“Sounds like you need new friends.” Rising to my feet, I retrieved the syringe on my tray and drew the anesthetic out of its little vial.
“Fuckers. We were out having a laugh after a shitty week, you know?”
I nodded and gestured for him to continue. It’d keep his mind off the needle I was about to stick him with.
“My girlfriend broke up with me,” he said. “Was cheating behind my back.”
“I’m sorry,” I offered. “That has to suck.”
“Have you ever been cheated on, Doc?”
He stared up at me as I brandished the syringe, and I hesitated. The image of my ex fucking that nurse from behind, which had been burned into my retinas, flashed before me, and I shook my head.
“Well, it sucks,” David said, taking my gesture as a denial.
Injecting the anesthetic into his brow, he flinched slightly but held firm.
“See?” I asked. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”
“You distracted me.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” I smiled and sat down on the stool again, adjusting the height so I was level with my work.
Once he was patched up and loaded with a couple of paracetamol tablets, I sent him on his way and called it a night. By the time I rolled into my apartment, it was pushing three a.m. Way too late to message Josh.
Sliding into bed, I buried under the covers and breathed deeply. I’d call him tomorrow. I had to.
It wasn’t too late to try to fix my mistakes.
Sometimes good intentions aren’t good enough.
I was going to call Josh the first chance I got, but I was woken at seven a.m. after four hours of sleep to come back to the hospital and cover in the ER again.
There’d been a virus running through the hospital that had struck down half of the staff, which was want to happen in our line of work, and I was one of the few who’d been spared. That meant I had to go in and cover or the ER would get overloaded.
Loading myself with coffee and sugar, I toiled away in ground zero, stitching and setting broken wrists, checking heart rhythms, and doing X-rays until I lost track of time.
“Ugh,” I declared, leaning on the wall next to Gunner, who was looking just as tired.
“Some days, I wish I’d become a hairdresser,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “If I see another kid that has swallowed something it shouldn’t have, I just might.”
Despite how weary I was feeling, I laughed. “At least you can get the interns to sift through their crap.”
She raised her hands. “Hallelujah!”
Smiling, I cast my gaze over the waiting room and was glad to see it had lulled for the moment, hence the short breather. Then my gaze found a familiar face, and I pushed off the wall.
“I’ll catch you later,” I said to Gunner as I approached David, the head wound guy from the night before.
“Hey, Doc,” he said as I approached him.
“David,” I said. “Is everything okay? Your head—”
“It’s cool,” he said with a shrug. “I was hoping to speak to you.”
Oh… I glanced over my shoulder at Gunner, but she’d disappeared.
“I was a bit out of it last night,” David went on.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Listen, I know this is probably left of field considering everything…”
I narrowed my eyes, starting to feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t the first time I’d patched up someone, and they’d tried to ask me out. Not that I thought highly of myself, it was just people tended to latch onto those who showed them kindness after a traumatic experience. David had been dumped by his girlfriend, then left to wander into the ER on his own by his deadbeat mates. I was nice to him, and he thought I was pretty, so he’d come back hoping for a shot. Even if Josh weren’t on the scene, I’d still decline.
I opened my mouth to interrupt him, but he finished his question before I could do anything about it.
“Do you want to get coffee sometime? Or dinner?”
“I’m really flattered,” I began, and his expression crumpled.
“It’s okay,” he muttered, backing away. “I get it.”
“David…”
“It’s cool,” he called out and turned, striding from the ER.
Gunner appeared beside me and raised an eyebrow. “Breaking hearts, Blue?”
“He was the guy from last night,” I said, feeling bad.
“Head wound dude?”
“Yeah. His girlfriend cheated on him, and his mates got him a concussion and ten stitches for his trouble. Left him to come in here on his own.”
She whistled. “There’s some real winners out there, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t even give him a pity date?”
“Gunner,” I scolded her. “Encouraging patients like that is bad news. Last thing any of us need is a—”
“Stalker?”
I sighed. “Yeah, that.”
“Don’t worry, Blue. He won’t be coming back.” I gave her a look. “Did you see the poor guy’s face?” Laughing, she wandered off to see her next patient, and I got back to mine.
Thirty minutes later, an ambulance screeched up outside, and I was pulled into emergency surgery for the rest of the day. Mending a femur that had been obliterated in a car accident was delicate work that required lots of pins and elbow grease to get back into place.
When I finally scrubbed out, I was beat.
“There’s something at the nurses’ station for you, Holly,” Nurse Judy said, tapping me on the shoulder as I shuffled through the ward like a zombie.
“Me?” I asked, blinking.
She winked. “Someone’s popular.”
Walking down the hall, I wondered what was going on, and when I saw what was waiting for me, I paused, a frown creasing my forehead.
A giant vase of white lilies sat on the bench, a little white envelope with my name written on it in elegant cursive taped to the edge. I glanced up and down the hall waiting for the punch line. Who would send me flowers? My thoughts instantly went to Josh, but I wasn’t sure it was his style, not after the incredible date we’d had last month. Fuck, was it a month ago? No wonder he was shitty with me. I should be sending him an apology gift, not him.
Plucking the envelope from the vase, I pulled the card out to see who it was from.
Reading the message, I frowned. You are the stitches in my broken heart.
I flipped the paper over, but there was no name anywhere. Instantly, I thought of David, the guy I’d stitched up last night. Then my mind went to my ex back in New York. I hadn’t heard from him since the night I found Josh on the street. He’d sent me a half-hearted Facebook message asking if I was okay, but it had undercurrents that stunk of an ulterior motive, so I’d ignored him. Why wait three months to send flowers? Something wasn’t adding up.
I stared at the lilies and felt a creepy shiver run down my spine. Best thing to do was toss them in the bin and forget about them. Whoever they were from, I didn’t want anything to do with it.
Archer appeared beside me. “Nice flowe
rs, Hol.”
I clutched my hand against my chest and took a few deep breaths. “Fuck, Archer. Don’t be such a creeper.”
He laughed and turned his attention back to the tablet in his hand. “Whatever you say, Hol.” He wandered off, his attention turning back to whatever he’d been doing when he’d seen me standing here like a dork staring at a bunch of flowers.
Shaking my head, I grabbed the vase, rounded the nurses’ station, and dumped the whole thing into the nearest bin.
Staring at the mess, I began thinking about Josh and our awkward exchange in the Outpatient Clinic the other day. He’d been mad at me for not seeing him sooner. Three weeks was a long time considering the amazing sex we’d had all over my apartment. The memory of his cock inside me had my body quivering, and I glanced around, my cheeks flushing. Thankfully, I was alone.
Checking my phone, I saw that it was eight p.m. Finding a quiet corner in a supply closet, the first thing I did was call Josh. It had been far too long, and I hoped I hadn’t blown my chance.
The call rang so many times I almost gave up that he was ever going to answer. My heart sank lower and lower with each beep, and I began to regret my stupid career choice if it was always going to keep me from being completely happy. I loved being a surgeon, but was it everything? Once upon a time, it had been, but ever since I met Josh, I didn’t know anymore.
Finally, the call connected, and I straightened up, hope brimming that it wasn’t his voicemail.
“Sparks.” My name was a sigh on his lips, and I felt even more pitiful, but it was Josh in the flesh, so at least there was some hope if he still wanted to talk to me.
“Josh,” I said. “I’m sorry about the other day.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He sounded defeated.
“I will,” I retorted. “I have some things I need to talk to you about. I should’ve called you sooner… Can I see you?” A moment passed, and I began to think he’d hung up. Checking the screen, the call was still connected. “Josh?”
“Friday,” he replied.
“Friday?”
There was a slight pause before he asked, “Do you even know what day it is?”