Chapter 3 #2
“This place doesn’t seem like your style.” Dr. Donnelly cringed with a half-hearted smile. “Though that doesn’t seem fair when I can’t say I know much about you.”
“I’ve never been here. My roommate said they have good drinks, so I decided to try it.” Which was partially true, until he saw Dr. Donnelly by himself. Wyatt glanced down at the closeness of their knees beneath the dimly lit bar, and he sat back. “Do you come here often?”
Oh God, did I just use the most generic pick-up line ever?
Fuck.
Dr. Donnelly continued to smile, a slight laugh slipping from his chest. “A few times.”
Wyatt nodded, swallowing down the mortification as the bartender returned with his drink and Dr. Donnelly indicated for another one for himself.
Wyatt immediately lifted the fancy glass to his lips and took a long gulp, needing to create space between himself and his ridiculous nerves. A wall of alcohol might do the trick, he thought, letting the burn of the whiskey slide down his throat.
He returned his gaze to Dr. Donnelly’s and saw that his eyes were fixed on his throat before carefully averting them, the jaw muscle beneath his beard twitching. “Shouldn’t you be at a pub, or club, or something? God, that made me sound old.”
Wyatt felt his lips pull into an easy smile. “I was at the club a few blocks from here. I owed my bestie a night out. But the clubs not really my thing.”
Dr. Donnelly smirked, the lines deepening around his eyes.
Wyatt felt mesmerized, wondering if he had ever let himself look this long at his captain.
“Not really my thing either,” Dr. Donnelly said. “Though I’m sure there’s an age limit to those sorts of places.”
“Are you saying you're too old to club?” Wyatt asked, relaxing slightly.
Dr. Donnelly snorted, “Maybe. I dunno, I suppose clubs really weren’t my thing when I was younger, anyway. I was more inclined to smoke pot and listen to blues in my parents’ garage, that kind of thing.”
Wyatt glanced at the blues band behind them. “You must like this then.”
Dr. Donnelly hummed, “Yeah, minus the pot. But yeah. I love live music, especially the blues. Makes you feel…” he abruptly cut himself off, sitting back and clearing his throat.
Before Wyatt could press, the bartender reappeared with Dr. Donnelly’s drink and he thanked him, taking a long sip.
“You’re not that old, by the way,” Wyatt heard himself say out loud and immediately hid the rising flush of embarrassment by taking another drink of his whiskey.
Dr. Donnelly didn’t seem to notice as a wistful sigh escaped his lips. “Some days, I feel ancient.”
He wanted to ask, and in a way, he supposed he knew.
He was their captain and knew it probably took a lot out of him.
It was an impossible task to be responsible for others in life-or-death situations, and yet Dr. Donnelly did it.
He showed up every day, managing to hold it all together, especially at times the crew, and kept the ship sailing.
“Are you here alone?” Wyatt asked.
“Yeah,” Dr. Donnelly replied, rubbing his large hand through his thick beard.
Wyatt noticed how well-groomed Dr. Donnelly looked. His beard neatly trimmed, his clothes ironed, and his shoes polished to a shine on Italian leather. He narrowed his eyes, knowingly. “You were stood up.”
Dr. Donnelly’s eyes jerked back to his, “How could you possibly tell that?”
“I’ve been you,” Wyatt admitted. “I know the feeling. So, I’m… sorry.” Except he wasn’t, not in the slightest.
“You’re perceptive, or maybe assuming,” Dr. Donnelly retorted, assessing him. “It’s twice in one day you’ve called me out on pure assumption alone. In the ED, that could be dangerous if wrong, Lawson.”
Wyatt flushed, slipping a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t…”
“I’m giving you a hard time,” Dr. Donnelly replied gently. “You’re good at reading people. I hadn’t realized, though maybe I should’ve.”
Wyatt heard the praise, but it was mixed with Dr. Donnelly’s own negative self-assessment, which bothered him.
He frowned, noticing the faint lines of emotion strained on the doctor’s lips and the dark bags under his eyes.
He was tired—they all were. But there was something else there, something deeper and unspoken that Wyatt could sense.
More than the loneliness he had seen earlier.
This undercurrent of emotion felt raw, almost delicate.
Surprised, Wyatt continued to stare, wondering if this was from his shoulder or something else.
“How’s the shoulder?” he asked cautiously, trying not to overstep.
“Sore,” Dr. Donnelly clipped out, chin down as though not to let Wyatt look too closely at him.
“Do you take anything for the pain?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“What do you do to treat it?”
Dr. Donnelly shot him a hard look, despite the smile on his face. “Are you my doctor now, Lawson?”
“No. I’m…” he stopped himself. He wouldn’t apologize. He didn’t want to. “I’m just concerned about my captain, that’s all.”
Dr. Donnelly’s eyes turned to stone, his smile falling. “I’m fine.”
“You say that a lot,” Wyatt murmured and closed his eyes, suddenly wishing he could vanish in his seat.
That was a blatant overstep.
“It’s just a frozen shoulder, Lawson. I can handle it.”
He nodded, returning to his place in the ranking against his captain. And yet, he bristled with irritation. It reminded him briefly of Roxeanne and how she bucked and reared her head when he first attempted to get close while she was on the verge of collapse. Why did this feel so similar?
“Forgive me,” Dr. Donnelly said after a moment. “It’s been a long week.”
Wyatt was fully aware of how awful this week at work had been.
He heard Steph, the head nurse, blame it on the full moon and the Santa Ana winds, saying that city people tend to go a little mad this time of year.
Shorter tempers, bad decisions, explosive behavior, and sometimes violence.
And it always ended up in the emergency department, his team having to deal with the aftermath.
The winds had finally brought in the rain, washing the city clean of the turmoil.
“And, you were right, it doesn’t help that I was stood up on Friday night,” Dr. Donnelly admitted softly.
“She couldn’t make it?” Wyatt asked.
Dr. Donnelly let out a tight laugh, hands clamped firmly around the glass, his gaze locked to the amber liquid rolling inside. “No, he could not.”
He?!
Jealousy, like a fist to the gut, knocked the wind out of him while Wyatt simultaneously rejoiced in the possible fact that Dr. Donnelly was gay or bisexual.
Stop—don’t.
Don’t think about that.
Dr. Donnelly was off-limits. It didn’t matter that he was like him. But it did matter—a lot.
“He was called in,” Dr. Donnelly continued.
“Called in? Is he a doctor?” Wyatt asked, noticing the slight strain in his voice and clearing it quickly.
He hoped to hell that his date wasn’t Dr. Samuels, because if it was, Wyatt didn’t stand a chance against that stupidly handsome ED Viking.
Or Dr. Walsh, who was handsome in his own pale, scary sort of way, but he didn’t seem to be Dr. Donnelly’s type. He needed someone…
Protective.
Wyatt paused, wondering where that thought had come from.
“Paramedic,” Dr. Donnelly clarified. “He’s young—” he stopped himself abruptly, busily taking a careful sip of whiskey, curtailing his words.
“So, he’s like us,” Wyatt replied. “Makes sense, we have odd hours.”
Dr. Donnelly’s averted gaze flickered to his face. “Right.”
Wyatt attempted an assured smile. “I’m sure you guys will find the time to meet up again.”
“I don’t think so.”
Surprised, Wyatt asked, “How come?”
Dr. Donnelly’s eyebrows arched, and he cocked his head to the side, seeming to consider. “I think that’s a bit personal…”
Wyatt stifled the disappointment and was surprised when Dr. Donnelly continued, “Or maybe we’re just two people who happen to know each other, sitting at the same bar. After all, we’re not at work.”
Yes, fucking, please.
He wanted to know everything about this man—everything.
Wyatt shivered, racing a sweaty palm over his leg.
“We have an arrangement.” Dr. Donnelly let out a soft sigh. “We meet once a month at a bar with a hotel, and I book us a room… well, you can figure out the rest.”
Wyatt felt the heat flush the back of his neck, and he nodded stiffly.
Sex. They had sex.
His cock twitched, wondering if he had ever met the young paramedic who got to fuck or be fucked by Dr. Donnelly in hotels once a month. The swift sting of jealousy reared its head again, and he gritted his teeth, refusing to show how much he didn’t like knowing this information.
“Your silence is really comforting,” Dr. Donnelly remarked with a slight tease.
Wyatt jerked, “Sorry, I’m not judging you, I swear. I just—um, I didn’t know you were…”
Stop talking right now, Lawson.
“It’s all right. All cards on the table?
” He glanced at him, and Wyatt quickly nodded, knowing he was being a little too eager.
“I actually didn’t know I was gay until about a few years ago.
I suppose you can say I’ve got the stereotypical overachiever storyline.
Golden child through high school, honor student in college, overly pedigreed med school.
Lost in the scramble of becoming great, drifting through my personal life.
My ex would hate hearing that. But it’s unfortunately true, I wasted her time not knowing myself.
It took me figuring out what I didn’t want—to see what I actually wanted.
Not the best strategy, but it’s how it happened. ”
Donnelly seemed to age right before his eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so helpless.
Wyatt felt himself sway a little closer.
“I realized tonight that when he canceled, I…” He paused, shaking his head. “Sorry, that was a lot,” he said, clearly self-conscious now.
“It wasn’t,” Wyatt reassured. “It’s not.”