Chapter 2
Wyatt
The club lights sparkled and bounced off the crowded dance floor, and the music pulsed with a steady beat, but Wyatt heard none of it.
He really, really didn’t want to be here.
He wanted to be in his dark room, finishing off a beer before promptly passing out.
Today was a long day.
He had been training as a junior resident emergency medicine doctor for the past six months at Saint Sierra hospital, alongside some of the most qualified and insanely skilled doctors in all of LA.
He had transferred from a slower rural hospital, fearing that his skills as a doctor were stagnating.
So, when he was accepted as a transfer to this hospital, he was both terrified and excited.
And he loved every minute of it.
Well, almost.
The projectile vomiting was never fun. Or the deaths, which came often despite how much he tried to save his patients. He was slowly becoming less uncomfortable with death, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to bear, depending on the patient.
“Approximately seven to eight thousand people die in the US daily, Lawson. You are inevitably a part of that cycle in that your job is to save lives. So, try not to take it personally when the statistic, or God, or the universe does what it inevitably does. And if you do, well, remember, you’re doing the best you can, and in the end, sometimes that’s all that matters.
” Dr. Donnelly had reassured him six months ago.
Preacher don’t fear the Reaper.
Come on baby, don’t fear the Reaper…
Wyatt hummed the tune in his mind, thinking back to the day he first arrived at Saint Serria Hospital.
Dr. Donnelly’s hand had captured his shoulder firmly, the way he would often do now in passing, as if his touch was a way to check on his residents, followed by direct, almost penetrating eye contact, assessing them quickly as he moved through the ED.
That day, Dr. Donnelly’s deep blue eyes were brimming with compassion for not only the deceased patient, whom they stood vigilantly over, but also for Wyatt because he couldn’t save them.
“You are enough even when you think you aren’t. Death can remind us of our mortality, and as a doctor, our flaws. Compassion for yourself, too, is necessary,” Dr. Donnelly had said to him softly. Gently even.
Wyatt had experienced plenty of egotistical, dickhead doctors and professors as a student and now as a resident.
He had assumed it was simply part of the profession.
Empathy and the grueling work of being a doctor could, at times, be a hard line to straddle.
He understood why a lot of assholes chose this job, they saw people as machines rather than human beings.
So, when Dr. Donnelly met him that day with kindness and compassion, Wyatt nearly gaped in surprise at the older man.
He hadn’t anticipated a senior emergency medicine doctor being so… sensitive.
“Keep doing good work,” Dr. Donnelly had continued to say, smiling warmly at Wyatt, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as he brushed a hand onto his back.
And that, right there, was the start of Wyatt’s mild obsession with his captain. But unfortunately for him, Wyatt made a lot of mistakes, especially in those first few months. He suspected Dr. Donnelly hadn’t thought he was much of a doctor yet, given his rural hospital transfer.
Donnelly was a hardened inner-city doctor who saw gunshot wounds and stabbings as common occurrences, while prior to coming to this hospital, the most Wyatt had seen was the occasional farming accident that resulted in some sort of bodily injury.
Whatever Dr. John-handsome-as-hell-Donnelly thought of Wyatt, he never showed it, maintaining professionalism and respect regardless of opinion. In fact, he was the epitome of a great fucking teacher. Never once crossing those sacred lines.
But whenever Wyatt did do something right in front of his captain, and Dr. Donnelly’s firm grasp came down on his shoulder, followed by that half-hearted smile, it felt like all the blood in his body went straight to his cheeks, flushing at his praise.
Because he loved that man’s praise.
The thought had initially mortified Wyatt, but the longer he worked with his captain, the more he craved it. He melted like hot butter in a skillet every time he got it, even though Dr. Donnelly praised everyone all the time.
There was nothing special about Wyatt to Dr. Donnelly.
The club music, pulsing with heavy bass, cut to another song, and Wyatt was pulled from his thoughts, sighing and dragging a hand through his hair.
His roommate and best friend, Jin, stood at the bar ordering them drinks.
Wyatt had promised to go out after skipping the last two Friday nights, and he was trying hard not to think about how comfy his bed sounded right now.
His eyes slid over the overly crowded dance floor as he watched from the corner table they had managed to grab, when he noticed a tall dark-haired man with a beard swaying with a male couple.
Their bodies were sliding off one another, joined in a tandem of rhythm and something else—something sensual and hot.
Wyatt frowned when the flash of the club lights illuminated the dark bearded man’s face, realizing he was young, mistaking the beard for age.
Jin appeared a moment later, his face pinched in suspicion as he handed Wyatt his milky green cocktail, tracking his line of sight. “Dude, you are a heat-seeking missile.”
“What?” Wyatt asked, pretending not to know what he was referring to.
“You somehow manage to find every bearded man within twenty yards of you.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes.
“It’s true!” Jin teased.
He sighed, “I just like…”
“Beards all of a sudden?”
“I’m allowed to have a type,” Wyatt replied, feeling oddly defensive.
“Yes, queen, you are,” Jin drawled. “But you’re looking a little too hard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you're looking for him.”
Wyatt’s heart flopped over, and he frowned hard into his cocktail, taking a sip of the minty green flavor Jin had ordered for him, cringing. He should’ve ordered for himself.
“I’m not stupid, you know,” Jin remarked. “I know when you’re crushing. And honey, you’re crushing hard for a certain doctor…”
Heat raced to his cheeks, and he attempted to cover it by turning away, casually slipping his hand into his front sweater pocket. “I don’t have a crush.”
“Oh, baby, you so do. You talk about him constantly. I swear, if I hear Dr. Donnelly’s name one more time…” Jin’s eyes widened in sudden epiphany. “He’s got a beard, doesn’t he?”
Wyatt’s flush deepened, rising up his neck now.
Jin let out a hooting sound, whipped out his phone, and began speed typing into his phone. “I’m googling him.”
Alarmed, Wyatt reached for him.
Jin ducked out of the way.
“Dude—don’t!” Wyatt knew he couldn’t die from embarrassment, and yet he sort of wanted to.
“I have to know!” Jin shrieked, drawing the attention of the passersby and forcing Wyatt to shove his hands back into his sweater, knowing it was pointless trying to stop his bestie. Jin was as ferocious as an attack dog in a junkyard when he wanted something.
And Wyatt had figured out early in their friendship to never try to stop Jin from what he wanted, or risk getting his head bitten off.
They had met in undergrad as roommates in UCLA's dorms. Wyatt was a country boy with a little too much twang for Jin, who immediately helped him adapt to city life and introduced him to the world beyond the ranch. He had been achingly naive when he moved away from his father’s ranch in Arizona and was lucky to have found Jin.
Though radically different from him in almost every way, they somehow worked as best friends.
Jin had been making waves in the LA art community and had even co-hosted gallery openings and showcases over the last few years. His charming, no-holds-barred conversations with people and confident levity were what drew Wyatt to him and kept him there.
Jin also never shamed him for his sexuality because he, too, was gay.
Their roommate situation was convenient for them as both were constantly working these days. It was nice to have a friend at home when they were actually both home at the same time. He knew it wouldn’t last forever, Jin seemed more determined than ever to find himself a steady partner.
Wyatt had dated a lot in college, gaining confidence and more certainty about what he wanted in the bedroom. But the rigorous demands of being a med student, and now a junior resident, left him little time to date, let alone have a relationship other than with his pillow.
In fact, he hadn’t gotten laid in…
Wyatt paused, doing the math in his head, and nearly went slack-jawed at the year-long sexual drought he had unknowingly been in.
“Jesus Christ on toast,” Jin exclaimed, eyes widening beneath the bright pink glasses. “Please tell me this is him?”
He flashed him a picture of Jonathan Donnelly, MD, from his profile picture on the hospital website.
The image was updated, too. His thick, full beard had hints of gray sprinkled through the dark brown layers.
His short-cropped brown hair was ruffled as though he had run his hand through it right before the picture was taken.
The crinkled lines around his eyes were deep from his warm smile, and that kindness—that goodness, reflected in the depths of those dark blue eyes was evident even in the staff picture.
“Oh my,” Jin drawled. “I didn’t realize he was actually hot. You made him sound like Mr. Rogers.”
He snorted, “I did not.”
“This man is not made of Care Bear DNA, darling. This man screams sex. Look at that beard! I couldn’t grow something like that if I were held at gunpoint.”
“He’s not like that.” Wyatt couldn’t explain it, but he felt a sudden protectiveness for his captain. Maybe because Wyatt had never met anyone like him. Dr. Donnelly was a man who led with compassion over confidence, and that was something of a rarity in their profession.