9. Mia
CHAPTER NINE
MIA
After our weekend together, Mick dropped me off at home with a kiss and a promise to spend time with me as soon as he has a free moment. Of course, my three-day stretch and his two home games in a row will make it difficult, but we’ll figure out a way to make it work.
This freaking shift has lasted approximately three lifetimes and I’m ready for it to be over. I need about two hours of Mick’s special brand of lovemaking and twelve hours of sleep.
I check the monitor at the central station, my fingers flying over the keyboard with mechanical precision. The memory of Mick’s voice, low and thick with sleep in the pearlescent glow of his bedroom, keeps looping in my head like a glitchy track.
“Earth to Mia.” Katie leans over the counter, her eyes narrowed with a level of scrutiny that would be more appropriate for a suspicious labs report. "You've been staring at that discharge summary for five minutes. Mr. Henderson isn't that interesting."
"He has a very complex history," I lie, finally hitting the print button. My heart gives a traitorous little thump against my ribs, a physical reminder of the person I’m trying to pretend I haven't been obsessing over since he dropped me off at the ambulance bay this morning.
"Right. Complex history of mild indigestion and being a lonely widower," Katie says, tapping her pen against her chin. "You’re glowing, by the way. It’s disgusting. It makes the rest of us look like we’ve been dragged through a car wash without the car."
"I’m not glowing. I’m caffeinated," I retort, grabbing the papers. I turn toward the patient bays. I feel exposed without it, as if the scrubs aren't thick enough to hide the fact that I’ve spent the better part of the last seventy-tow hours being thoroughly, expertly loved.
The sliding doors of the ambulance bay hiss open.
I don't look up. We aren't expecting a trauma, and the rhythm of the floor is finally settling into that weird, late-night lull where the only sounds are the rhythmic beep of heart monitors. Then the air in the room changes. It’s not a sound, but a shift in pressure, the way the atmosphere feels right before a massive storm breaks over the Sound.
I feel him before I see him. It’s a pull in my solar plexus that has everything to do with the man currently walking through a hospital at midnight like he owns the floor. I turn slowly, my breath hitching in a way that is distinctly unprofessional.
Mick McLinden is standing near the triage desk.
He’s wearing a dark hoodie, the hood pulled down, and jeans that look soft enough to live in.
He looks exhausted, the five o'clock shadow on his jaw more of a ten o'clock forest, and yet he radiates a kind of coiled, restless energy that makes every other person in the room look like they're moving in slow motion. He’s holding a brown paper bag with a familiar logo stamped on it, the grease stains on the bottom suggesting something heavy and delicious from the deli three blocks away.
The entire nurses' station goes silent. I see Katie’s jaw literally drop, her pen rolling off the counter and clattering to the floor. Mick doesn't notice. He doesn't look at the interns whispered-gasping or the security guard who’s suddenly standing a lot straighter. He only looks at me.
"You look tired, trouble," he says, stopping a few feet away. His voice is a low rumble that vibrates right through the floorboards and into the soles of my shoes. His eyes, dark and heavy with a warmth that makes my knees feel like they’ve been replaced by wet cardboard, track the movement of my hands as I clench the discharge papers.
"It’s all your fault," I manage to say. "I didn’t have more than six hours sleep all weekend long." I’m not really complaining. It was the best weekend I’ve ever had.
"I don’t remember you complaining," he says, leaning over to kiss the side of my cheek. "I figured you hadn't eaten. And I wanted to see you."
“Can’t go more than a couple of days without seeing me. You’ve got it bad Micky boy.”
“That I do.” He winks at me. He must’ve gone straight from his game to the late night deli to grab dinner for me. It warms me from the inside out and I realize how sweet Mick McLinden really is.
I glance back at the station. Katie is practically vibrating with curiosity, and two other nurses are leaning so far over the desk they’re in danger of falling.
"Follow me to the break room," I say, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him toward the back hallway.
The break room is mercifully empty, the air smelling of stale coffee and burnt popcorn.
The moment the door swings shut, cutting off the fluorescent glare of the hallway, Mick drops the deli bag on the Formica table and pulls me into him.
He doesn't wait. He doesn't ask. He just wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me with a desperation that matches mine.
I fist my hands in his hoodie, pulling him closer, needing the solid, heavy weight of him against me to steady the world.
My head falls back against the plastic of the machine as he moves to my neck, his stubble scraping against my sensitive skin in a way that makes me whimper his name.
“God. I needed that.”
"Me, too," I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine with a terrifying amount of honesty. "I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. I missed you so fucking much."
I reach up, cupping his face, my thumb tracing the line of his jaw.
The vulnerability in his voice hits me harder than the kiss did.
This is the man who leads a team of giants, who takes hits that would break a normal person, and he’s standing in a hospital break room at midnight admitting he’s afraid of losing me.
It’s the most terrifying, beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
"I missed you too," I say, and for the first time, the words don't feel like a risk. They feel like a fact. "I was actually thinking about how much I hated that I missed you."
He lets out a rough, relieved laugh and kisses me again, slower this time.
He tastes like ginger ale and stubbornness.
When he finally lets me slide back down to my feet, my scrubs are wrinkled and I’m pretty sure my hair looks like I’ve been caught in a wind tunnel.
I feel soft. I feel seen. I feel like the version of myself that doesn't have to manage everything from behind a wall.
"Eat," he commands, gesturing to the bag. He pulls out a sandwich wrapped in foil that’s still warm. "I called Harper to find out what you liked. She told me you can’t resist a Sub Shop Pastrami."
"I’m impressed." I mutter, taking the sandwich. I sit on the edge of the table, my legs swinging. "You’re very thorough, Captain."
"I play to win, MIa. Scouting reports are essential," he says, leaning against the counter and watching me with a steady, proprietary gaze. He just watches me take a bite, his expression one of pure, unadulterated satisfaction. It’s the look of a man who has brought his person exactly what they needed, and the simplicity of it makes my throat tight.
“Would you move in with me?” His words cause me to nearly choke on the bite of sandwich.
I swallow and take a sip of diet coke. “What?”
“Think about it.” He goes into negotiation mode. “Living with me solves our problems. Our busy schedules won’t keep us apart.”
It makes sense but I’m still scared. Scared of getting my heart stomped on. “This is moving fast.”
Mick steps back into my space, his hands resting on the table on either side of my hips, hedging me in.
He leans down until we’re eye to eye. "Not fast enough for me. I don't do anything halfway, Mia. If I’m in, I’m all in.
You’re the one I want to see when I wake up and the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep. "
“You make it hard to say no.”
“Then say yes, trouble.”
I take a deep breath and decide to jump in with both feet. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
A huge grin breaks out across his face as he pulls me into his arms again. “I love you.” He breathes against my lips.
“I love you, too.” I finally admit the words that’ve been stuck in my throat for the last few days.
“Thank god.” He kisses me again until my knees go week. When he steps back, I lean against the break room table to stay on my feet. “Now, finish your sandwich.”
“Yes, sir.” I laugh and reach for the pastrami.
We spend another ten minutes in the quiet of the break room, a tiny bubble of sanity in the middle of the hospital chaos. He tells me about the game, about how Ryan is still being a pain in his ass. It’s mundane. It’s domestic. It’s the most perfect conversation.
When the pager on my hip finally buzzes, the sound feels like a physical blow. I look down at the display and see there’s an incoming ambulance, five minutes out. The bubble pops, and the professional world rushes back in with the force of a tidal wave.
"I have to go," I say, sliding off the table. I feel a sudden, sharp pang of loss at the thought of him leaving. I want to tuck him into my pocket and keep him there.
"I know," he reaches out and straightens my scrub top, his fingers lightly running along my collarbone for a second. "I’ll be in the parking lot at seven to pick you up. We can get a few hours sleep then start moving your stuff into my apartment."
"I’ll be there," I promise. I look at him, really look at him, and for the first time, I don't try to hide the way I’m feeling. I let the affection, the want, and the terrifying realization of how much he matters show on my face. "See you soon."
He kisses my forehead and the tender gesture makes my eyes sting. "Go save lives, Mia. I’ll see you in the morning."
I walk back out into the hallway, my heart pounding hard in my chest. As I pass the nurses' station, the atmosphere is electric. Katie is standing there, arms crossed, a grin on her face that tells me she’s dying to know what’s going on. Oh, well. She’ll have to wait until we deal with this trauma.
I spend the next three hours in a blur of ER chaos counting the hours until my shift ends and I can see Mick again.