Chapter Three
It’s getting harder and harder…excuse my terrible pun…to hide my attraction to Lyla. -Asher
Asher
A strong hand claps me on the back. I stumble forward a bit and turn on my heel, ready to hit back at the slap.
“Buddy, young love is such a beautiful thing,” Dr. Bruce Blanchard’s voice booms in my ear and I wince. His light grey eyes twinkle with mirth as they look at me.
I turn away and grab a chart from the closest slot. I pretend to look over it. “There’s no young love going on, Bruce. Just joking around with Lyla and Nurse Vicky,” I murmur.
Bruce chuckles. “That I would pay to see. Nurse Vicky hasn’t joked around since before you were born, boy. She doesn’t even know how to crack a smile.” He shifts his feet and gives me a wry smile. “It’s okay to admit you have a little crush on sweet Lyla. If I were your age, well I would…”
I shake my head. “Please don’t finish that sentence. I respect you as a colleague, so I don’t want to have to hit you.”
I scribble my signature at the bottom of the chart and slide it back into its designated slot. “There’s no crush, Bruce. I’m too damn old for a crush.” And too damn old for Lyla, unfortunately.
“You’re thirty-eight years old, Ash. Not nearly old enough to be over crushes. I still have a crush on a beautiful woman named Linda and she makes my heart go pitter patter every day.” He sends me a goofy smile and I roll my eyes.
“Bruce, it doesn’t count to have a crush on your wife,” I say sarcastically. I pick up another chart and walk away, hoping to dissuade the older doctor from following me. Unluckily, he seems abnormally unbusy and happy to follow me through the halls of the busy hospital. I dodge a janitor with a rolling cart as I continue to look over the chart for a Sergeant Wilson who is about to have a simple and swift gallbladder removal. Most days our patients here are pretty benign like Sergeant Wilson, but when there’s a transport or a trauma at the base it can get hairy.
Bruce emits a low whistle. “Asher, the only person you should ever have a crush on is your wife.” He chuckles. “She would kill me otherwise.”
I spin around and send Bruce a tight smile. “Thanks for the advice, but I’m good. No crushes or anything around here.” Just naughty dreams I shouldn’t be having about my late best friend’s daughter.
He strokes his full grey beard and peers at me wisely. “You know, Dr. Kennedy loved you like a son. He would have loved to have you for a son-in-law. There’s nothing wrong with having feelings for Lyla. She’s a beautiful girl, smart as a whip too.”
I snap the chart closed and give Bruce a grim look. “Look, I know you mean well, but I have no interest in her. Absolutely none. She’s like a little sister to me. Kissing her would be like kissing this chart here,” I say and hold up the chart, “no feelings, no response. Got me, Bruce?”
I hear a feminine gasp and turn to my left. I catch sight of Lyla’s curvy body in her blue scrubs scurrying around a corner as fast as her legs will go.
I glance down at the floor. “Fuck,” I spit out, “I didn’t mean for her to hear that.”
Bruce claps me on the shoulder again. “Yeah, but she did, and so now you have to fix it.”
I look up into his wise eyes and see a spark of understanding and patience.
“What if I’m not worthy of someone like Lyla?” I ask softly. “What if Michael wouldn’t want me to be with her that way?” I shake my head. “I mean, she’s an angel, and I’m,” I spread my arms out wide, “I’m me, which isn’t nearly angel material.” I’m as far from an angel as you can get, hence the kinky dreams.
Bruce grins. “Well, sometimes women fall for us anyway. When I met my wife, I was a goddamn idiot, but she married me anyway.” He slaps me on the back again and I roll my shoulder in reaction. The man may be old, but his slaps are still potent as hell. “Go apologize to the girl and go from there.”