by Amelia Wilde
I don’t catch what she says the first time.
“What?”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“No.”
It’s the most honest I’ve been with another person in years.
“Let me help you.” She’s up in an instant, small hands on my arm, and guides me back so I can lean up against the bed. “I think you lost a little more blood than you bargained for.”
Then she’s gone again. I lean back and close my eyes, take a deep breath of the antiseptic air.
My heart thuds, thuds, thuds. Lacey is back in town, working at the hospital, unless I’m having a hell of a hallucination.
I don’t think I am, even though I’ve lost a lot of blood.
What were her plans when we went off to college? Did she want to be a doctor even then, or did that…did that happen after I left? The memory is hazy now, unlike the memory of spitting harsh words at her through gritted teeth, of turning my back on her in the dorm, of walking out and never looking back.
There was shit I left out at the time, like the fact that I was leaving because—
“Here. Drink this.”
I open my eyes, and there she is in front of me like some kind of fucking angel from heaven, holding out a container of orange juice.
“Thanks.”
“It was this or apple. And I know—” She shakes her head just slightly, looking away for a split second.
“I hate apple juice.”
I give her a half smile and I see her face get ready to smile back, tentative, like she’s worried she might make a mistake.
“I remembered.” This last pair of words comes out softly, almost in a whisper.
My heart shatters into a thousand pieces.
I sip the orange juice.
When it’s gone, she takes the container and tosses it into a trash bin near the door. “There’s also this.”
It’s a turkey and cheese sandwich.
“You really thought of everything.”
“We want to help you recover from the blood loss as soon as possible.”
We. Not her. That single word is a bucket of ice water drenched over my skin.
I try my fucking best not to feel it, but I do, and hard on its heels is hot shame rising into my face.
I take a bite of the sandwich.
It’s nothing special. It’s hospital food. But it tastes like being alive.
I want to reach out and shatter the invisible window between us with my fist, but even though my body steadies itself a bit more with every passing second, my mind is still tumbling head over heels at the sight of her.
The sight of her dark hair. The curves underneath the white jacket. The way her bottomless eyes look into mine without flinching, even though I can see under the surface—I think I can see—and she’s got to be just as shaken as I am.
Lacey reaches out and puts her hand on my wrist, and for the barest fucking second, I think she might pull me toward her. But she doesn’t. She looks down at her watch, times out my pulse.
“Looks great.” The comment is almost to herself, and when she looks up again, it’s to find the clipboard on the counter, mark something down on the chart. “Feeling better?”
No. Now, more than ever, I need to get to the bar, get myself straightened out. At the same time, I want to stay right here, where I can look at her face. Maybe forever.
“I’m good, yeah.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Her smile is genuine. Does she smile at every patient like this? How long has she been doing this? The words die in my throat. We’re not the kind of people who ask each other those questions anymore. “Well, Crosby…” She presses her lips together, glances down at the chart. Using my name has to be some kind of tactic they teach in medical school. For the second time tonight, it seems like it’s hard for her to say. “Linda will be in in a few minutes to go over discharge instructions with you.”
“Thanks.”
Then she moves toward the door, and with one last smile over her shoulder at me, she’s gone.
Chapter Seven
Lacey
Out near the nurses’ station, I scan the room. There’s nobody in triage, and the nurses are moving back through the rooms, checking on the people who are already checked in.
Do I have two minutes to fall apart, somewhere nobody can see me?
I can’t believe it was him. My God, I can’t believe it was him.
I tried to avoid knowing where Crosby went after that first semester, but a place like Lockton doesn’t let you stay ignorant forever. I knew he was here. I knew, when I accepted this residency pairing, that there was a chance I would see him.
I can’t believe the way my body is reacting, the space between my legs heated and slick.
My chest goes tight, my breath short.
“Dr. O’Collins…”
“Just a minute, Carla.”
I wait for her to shake her head, tell me it’s urgent, but she just nods with a smile. Paperwork. Sometimes I love paperwork with all my heart.
Bathroom.
I shut the stall door tightly behind me and bury my face in my hands.
Seeing his face brings up all those memories I’ve worked so hard to bury.
Crosby’s face in the sun, his thin body wet from jumping into the lake. His muscular arms wrapping around me, pulling me in close. His mouth on mine, his tongue battling with my tongue, tasting spearmint gum and summer heat. The way my heart would throb, painful and warm at the same time.
I never wanted to be anywhere but by his side. Jesus, all those evenings I spent after school, trying to shut down the ache I had for his body while I tutored him through science so he’d graduate and get into the same university.
We’ll never have to be apart.
Why would I ever want to be, Lace?
There’s a noise far off that breaks through the cascade of memories.
I leave the stall and wash my hands, shoving all those thoughts to the back of my mind.
Things are different now.
I have a job to do.
Crosby is still there when I get back to the ER, standing in the doorway with Linda, who’s running a pen down the discharge paperwork. The moment I step back into the room, his eyes lift from the paper and meet mine.
It takes my breath away.
I give him a smile with my lips closed, letting it just travel up to my eyes. Then I throw myself back into the fire. I’m not going to let the ex-love of my life stop me from doing the work I’m supposed to do.
He’s signing the papers when I get there, signing with his good hand.
“Everything all set?”
Linda nods at me, then hands Crosby a folded paper. “Be sure to follow up if you notice any sign of infection.”
“I will.”
Everything out of his mouth makes the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. I don’t want Crosby to walk out of here. I want him to stay, just so I can hear him talk, until it’s time for me to head home.
Linda is several feet away by the time I find my voice. There are so many things that I want to say to him. That I want to ask him. Has he really been here since—since he left me? Was it worth it? Did he get what he wanted?
Does he have a girlfriend?
A wife?
There was no emergency contact, so I’m guessing not, but the Crosby I used to know would never have listed an emergency contact. Not unless I convinced him.
“Are you okay to drive?”
He cracks a smile at me, eyebrows rising, and I’m blushing like a teenage fool. “Yeah.” That voice. “I’m good to drive. I’ll just—you know, I’ll be careful.”
“Good to hear.” With a final, professional nod, I turn away and go back to the station. Carla is instantly by my side, wanting to go over a few things about the paperwork. I stifle the urge to throw my arms around her. If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably still be staring at Crosby, and Christ, there would be nothing more unprofessional for me to do on my
first day than that.
He’s turning me upside down, inside out.
The next time I get a break, it’s after ten. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I head to the cafeteria.
There are several choices to pick from underneath a warming light. I go for a chicken patty on a bun. I’ve lost track of how much salad I’ve eaten over the years, but something about the chicken patty makes me feel like I’m back in high school, secure in the knowledge that my boyfriend and I will be together forever, and I have nothing to worry about but going to college and starting my career.
“You’re doing well, Dr. O’Collins.”
I turn away from the tray with the chicken patty and the pudding cup on it. Dr. Howard.
“Thank you. It’s been—it’s been a day.” I follow it up with a big smile to let him know that I can handle this, damn it. I can handle it.
“We’re glad to have someone as capable as you on board. I hope it hasn’t been too much for your first day.”
So Dr. Howard isn’t as preoccupied as he seems to be.
“Not at all.” I smile even wider, then realize I’m just standing in front of the food, not moving. Dr. Howard probably wants to eat at some point tonight, too.
“Good. Let me know if there’s an issue, okay?”
“I will.” I absolutely won’t. If there’s one thing I’m determined about doing in this job, it’s that I’m not going to have constant problems. I can do this. I got myself through med school, and I can get myself through residency, and when I open my own family practice, I’ll handle that, too.
I just might never have anyone to go home to at night.
Well, that’s what I chose by getting into this profession. I’ll never have time to worry about it. Not for several years, at least.
I sit down at one of the cafeteria tables with the chicken patty sandwich wrapped in its foil, but all I can think about is handing Crosby that sandwich.
We want to help you recover…
But I want you to stay forever.
Chapter Eight
Crosby
The snow is coming down in blustery sheets and waves, and my entire damn truck is covered in it. It hurts like a bitch to shovel it off with the world’s worst scraper. My palm isn’t numb anymore. There’s a strange ache in my chest.
By the time I get the engine turned on, the truck rumbling to life beneath me, it’s fucking clear there’s no way I’m going to be finishing the job at Mrs. Greaves’. It’s way too late. She’ll have been in bed for half the night already.
I can’t get my head to clear.
There’s only one answer to that.
I drive to the bar.
The roads are fucking horrendous, and my hand is killing me by the time I get there.
The parking lot is crowded, people parked everywhere since the lines are hidden under the snow, but I don’t give a shit anymore. I just want a drink. I just want to get Lacey out of my head.
Which is a damn ridiculous prospect, since it’s been this long already and I’ve thought about her every day. Why the hell else would I be at the bar every night?
Cody, the bouncer, waves me through with a crooked grin. “You’re late.”
I wave my bandaged hand at him. “Had to stop by the ER.”
“Awww, what, did you get a paper cut?”
I flip him off with my good hand. Everything’s cool, yeah, it’s damn great, just a regular day, but there’s a pressure building in my chest that I can’t think away.
The space near the bar is packed, but my favorite booth is empty. I get to it as fast as I can and slide in, a shout cutting through the chatter.
“Cros!”
I lean back against the solid wall behind me and scan the crowd. It’s my buddy Brett Miller, and bless his fucking heart, he’s got two beers in his hands. We’ve worked on a few crews together. He’s pretty fucking happy-go-lucky until you piss him off. I think his wife has a lot to do with that—the happy part. He flops down on the other side of the booth like I invited him.
“Is that for me?”
“It is now.”
“Who was it for?” I take the beer and sip it. “Never mind. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Didn’t think you would. What the hell happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
Brett’s eyes go wide. “Your hand, idiot. You’ve got a pretty fancy bandage there.”
“Cut it.”
He takes a sip of his own beer. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Stitches.”
“Can you work?”
I have to tell someone that I just saw Lacey. It might as well be Brett. If I don’t, I think I might have a heart attack and die in this bar, and that would be the most pathetic fucking thing in the world.
“I saw Lacey.”
“That’s not—what?”
Brett and I haven’t known each other long, but you don’t have to know a person long to know if they’re a piece of shit or not. We both apprenticed with the same guy, John Thompson. He knows about Lacey. Not all of it, but enough.
“I saw her at the ER.”
“Did she cut herself?”
“No, dumbass. She’s working there.”
“As what?”
I stare at Brett across the table. “Guess.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, the woman who checks people in?”
“As a doctor.”
Brett’s eyes go wide again. “Holy shit. That’s what she’s been doing all this time?”
“I guess.”
“What happened?”
“She stitched my hand up.”
“What actually happened?”
“That’s what happened.”
“You didn’t kiss her?”
The thought of kissing her, of putting my hand on the side of her neck, just below her jawline, and pulling her in so I can taste the softness of her lips, has my cock straining against my jeans, and all I’m looking at is my half-ugly best friend.
“It didn’t seem like a great idea to get arrested.”
He scoffs. “You wouldn’t get arrested for that.”
“You try it next time you have to go to the ER and see how it works out.”
“I’m not Crosby King.”
“That shit’s over between us.”
“Yeah, fucking right.”
“It is.”
“It sure as hell isn’t. Do you think I’ve gone blind? I can see your face from here.”
“I need another drink.” Somehow I’ve drained my beer. I don’t remember doing it.
“Hell yes. You sit tight, you injured old wuss, and I’ll get us something better than beer.”
“Wait. Where’s Addison?”
“Out with her friends.”
“Then who was the beer for?”
“You, dumbass. I saw you coming in and thought you’d want a drink to start.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Be right back.”
Brett disappears into the crowd and I lean back in the booth.
He’s right, and I fucking know it. I’ve never been over Lacey, not for one single day in the last eight years. But what the hell was I going to do about it? Hunt her down? After what I did to her, she’d have no use for me.
And my life has already proven more than once that I’m just fucking dangerous to people I love.
It’ll do us both good for me to stay as far away from her as possible.
It’ll just be a little harder now that she’s in town. I’ll just have to keep my eyes open.
Something moves in my peripheral vision, and I look up to see a bleached blonde with enormous breasts squeezed into a dress that’s six inches too short.
“Hey.” Her voice is liquid with drink. “This seat taken?”
I consider it for a second. This is the easy type. The type you take home, the type you fuck, and the type you send on her way when the sun comes up. I wouldn’t have to bother learning her name. It would be simple.
; But in the last few hours, I seem to have lost my taste for easy women. It’s like, after eight years of eating nothing but oatmeal, I got a bite of steak.
“Yeah, it’s taken.”
She pouts, and the acid circles in my stomach. “You sure? Doesn’t look like there’s anybody in it. I could—”
I wave her away. “You could go back to your friends, sweetheart.”
“You’re a dick.”
“I never said otherwise.”
She turns on her heel and flounces off.
It’s true. I’m a fucking asshole, and I can’t protect the people I love.
When I think of the people I love, though, only one name comes to mind.
Chapter Nine
Lacey
“You can check out for the night, Dr. O’Collins.”
Dr. Howard’s voice comes from over my shoulder. I’m putting in some notes from the chart into the computer system, just to be sure it’s one hundred percent accurate.
My head is throbbing from the waves of adrenaline.
“It’s no big deal. I was just going to finish this—”
“Dr. O’Collins, if you don’t leave right now, you’re going to have to stay the night.”
At that, I turn around and look at him. His face is serious.
“The weather has not improved since you got in. If you’re planning to leave, you should leave now. You’ve put in a full day.”
“There are still patients—”
He chuckles. “Save some of it for the second month. Take my advice.”
“Some of what?”
He presses his lips together, considering. “This…enthusiasm and drive, Dr. O’Collins. Don’t leave it all on the table on the first day. Night, is probably more accurate. We’ll see you in the morning. Nine o’clock.”
I squint at the screen, registering for the first time that it’s almost midnight. Who knows how long it’ll take for me to drive home? Fatigue descends like a weight onto my shoulders.