CHAPTER 9
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beth hit the snooze button again and rolled over, hoping for just a few more minutes of sleep. It was Friday morning—one week since the day she woke up married. Thank goodness it was the last day of her four-day work week. She needed the weekend to relax and catch up on sleep.
The past week hadn’t been bad, just busy. On top of that, she felt a little off—like the early stages of the flu or something.
She wiggled deeper into her cocoon of pillows and blankets and drifted back to sleep, imagining what it would be like to snuggle with Bryce instead of a pile of pillows.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Beth groaned and poked her head out from under the covers to check the clock.
“OH NO!”
She tried to bolt out of bed, but the cozy nest she’d been enjoying was now a trap.
The tangle of blankets around her legs sent her tumbling to the floor in a graceless heap.
Wresting herself free, she muttered, “Why do alarm clocks even have snooze buttons? I’m plugging this thing in across the room from now on. ”
She stumbled into the bathroom. “Okay, Elizabeth, think. What can you do in five minutes?”
She brushed her teeth, threw her hair into a ponytail, and grabbed her makeup bag. “I can do my face in the Jeep. I just won’t tell Bryce.”
Earlier in the week, he hadn’t exactly been thrilled to discover she’d been applying makeup while driving.
After throwing on her scrubs, Beth paused and shot a longing look at her coffee pot before running out the door. She barely remembered to lock it. The elevator was still broken, so she bolted down three flights of stairs.
“MY ID!”
Back up the stairs she went, quickly unlocking her front door. She grabbed the ID off the wall hook and ran down again. Jogging to her parking spot, she reached through her windowless door, unlocked the Jeep and slid into the driver’s seat.
“What the?!?!” She exclaimed.
Her Jeep was soaked—apparently it had rained during the night.
“Seriously? It never rains in Colorado. Why last night?”
Frustrated and feeling more than a little nauseated, Beth reluctantly started the engine, accepting the fact that she didn’t have time to change into dry scrubs. With a grumble, she backed up, popped the Jeep into first, and shot out of the parking lot—barely slowing for the three speed bumps.
Speeding down the road, she applied a little makeup in the rearview mirror. “I look like death warmed over. Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
In the hospital parking lot, she parked quickly and grabbed for her purse—which, of course, wasn’t there.
“Great. Driving without a license. Add it to the list.”
Beth snatched her ID off the passenger seat as she slid out of the damp driver’s seat.
She always kept her hospital badge clipped to the orange stethoscope Grandma Jean had given her when she graduated college.
This morning, that beloved stethoscope seemed to have it in for her—it had managed to wrap itself around the gearshift like it was trying to keep her in the Jeep.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
While untangling it, she dropped her keys. She stooped to grab them just as the Jeep door swung shut—right into her face.
“OW!”
Dazed, she stumbled backward and landed on her rear.
“Rough night?”
Beth turned toward the voice—Crystal, walking through the employee lot beside Dr. Eric Sheppard.
Before she could respond, her stomach lurched, and she lost the breakfast she didn’t have all over Eric’s spotless shoes.
“Great. Haven’t even started my shift and I’m already covered in puke. Thanks,” Eric muttered, clearly disgusted.
Crystal wrinkled her nose and took a long step back.
Beth swayed, trying to steady herself, and Crystal’s eyes narrowed.
“Looks like Little Miss ‘I’m Too Good to Drink’ finally fell from grace,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as her gaze swept over Beth’s pale face, bloodied temple, and damp scrubs.
Beth blinked at her. “I wasn’t drinking. I overslept.”
Crystal’s smirk didn’t budge. “Riiight. Maybe next time pace yourself, Sweetheart.”
She turned to Eric. “You’ve got this, right?”
Before he could answer, she spun on her heel and walked off toward the building.
Eric sighed, crouched to grab Beth’s keys, and helped her up.
“Let’s get you inside. That cut needs to be checked. Once it’s cleaned, you need to go home and crawl back into bed. Working hungover is a bad idea. Besides—you look awful.”
“Thanks. Your bedside manner is truly something special. And I’m not hungover. I swear—I wasn’t drinking. I just woke up late.”
Eric raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.
“Dr. Jensen?”
Bryce looked up from a chart. The voice belonged to Kim Ontario, one of the best nurses on the graveyard shift. She’d just returned from a month-long vacation, and he was genuinely relieved to have her back.
He’d gotten a call around 1:00 AM to cover for Dr. Gibson, who had left suddenly for a family emergency. Bryce didn’t ask for details, but he suspected it had something to do with Gibson’s rebellious teenage son.
“Have you seen Beth yet this morning?” Kim asked casually, though a knowing smile tugged at her lips. She made a point of using only Beth’s first name—and wasn’t surprised when it caught Bryce’s attention.
He hesitated. He knew Kim and Beth were friends, but after a long week and more than one graveyard shift, he’d forgotten they were also roommates. Still, he wouldn’t have pegged Kim as a gossip—but her tone and smile felt loaded.
It was only Kim’s first night back, but she would’ve had to be blind not to notice the changes in Bryce. Even if she’d missed it, the other nurses hadn’t. The gossip mill was running full speed, trying to figure out what—or who—had brought on said changes.
Kim had steered clear of the break room whispers, even though she had her own juicy intel that her roommate was the who behind it.
At one point during the night, she and Bryce had ended up at a vending machine at the same time.
When he pulled out his wallet, Kim caught a glimpse of a photo tucked inside—it was the two of them in Vegas.
Beth had her arms raised, a radiant smile splitting her face.
Bryce stood beside her, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around her, pulling her close.
He looked like a man who had found his whole world and didn’t want to let go.
Kim had been so stunned, she punched in the wrong numbers and ended up with onion chips instead of the chocolate she’d been craving.
When Kim left a month ago, Beth had never even been to Vegas. So, the picture had to be from the medical convention they had just attended. Her friend had some explaining to do.
Now, standing in front of Bryce and watching the way he tried not to react to the mention of her friend, Kim smiled.
“No, I haven’t seen her,” Bryce said, shaking his head. “Even if she’s running late, I wouldn’t worry. If you need to head out, we should be fine.”
“Oh no, she’s already here. I was just wondering if you’d talked to her yet.”
Bryce narrowed his eyes, suddenly wary. Kim was fishing. “Is there a reason I should have?”
Kim hesitated before flashing a bright smile. “Not at all. Just wanted to let you know I’m happy to stay and work the morning shift, too. Extra cash after a vacation, you know?”
He didn’t buy it. “Kim, what are you not saying?”
Kim waited a beat, then nodded toward Room 5.
“Dr. Sheppard brought a patient in a little while ago. I think he came straight from the employee lot—his shoes were... pungent. You might want to check in.”
Before he could press her, she turned and walked away at a fast clip.
Bryce turned toward Room 5—but paused at the flicker of movement in his periphery.
Crystal.
She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—clearly replaying everything she’d just overheard.
Their eyes met. She didn’t look away. Didn’t smile. Just tilted her head into that calculating look he remembered all too well from their time outside the hospital settling into place.
“Huh,” she murmured. “Interesting.”
Then came the smirk—sharp, conniving—and she vanished down the hallway, leaving behind a knot of unease as Bryce turned toward Room 5.
Inside, the sight stopped him cold. Eric was treating a deep laceration at Beth’s left temple, just along the hairline, cleaning the wound in preparation for sutures.
“What happened here?” Bryce asked, working to keep his voice steady.
Beth didn’t look up, but her cheeks flushed pink. “It’s nothing,” she muttered.
Bryce raised a brow at Eric. “One of our nurses is bleeding from a head wound and says it’s nothing?”
Eric replied dryly, “She hit her head on her car door, then puked all over my shoes. The cut’s deep—needs stitches.
But the smell—she’s all yours” He balled up the soiled gauze he had been using and took off his gloves, wrapping them around the dressing before tossing everything into the biohazard trash.
He bolted out the door, only pausing long enough for a squirt of hand sanitizer
Heart racing, Bryce stepped in. “Did hitting your head cause the vomiting?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“I dropped my keys, bent down to get them, and my car door attacked me.”
He bit back a smile. “Did you yell at the door?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do I really need stitches? We have liquid skin for a reason.”
“Sadly, you’re not hard-headed enough. It’s too deep.”
“Hilarious.”
“I considered stand-up.”
“Don’t quit your day job.”
“Why not? I’m a stand-up guy.” He winked and finished cleaning the wound.
“Keep going and you’ll have me in stitches.” Her comeback
caught him off guard, making him laugh—loudly—and pause mid-stitch.
“You sure it’s wise to make the man with the needle laugh this hard?”
“Probably not. Just keep the stitches clean and small.”
He nodded, still grinning. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll have you fixed up and home in no time.”
Beth stiffened. “I’m not going home. I’m scheduled to work.”
“You’ve got a head wound and were vomiting. You need rest.”