THREE
EMMA
With a long exhale, I drop into the chair in front of the computer to do some charting, taking the first breather since my night shift started a few hours ago. A quick scan through the ER tells me this could turn into a break. It’s been busy so far, but suddenly, it’s too quiet for a Friday night at twelve thirty a.m. Only a handful of people sit in the waiting area, none seriously ill or injured. But the night has just begun, and all the drunks who get into a fight will probably start arriving soon.
A minute later, my colleague and friend Abby pulls up a chair next to me. “When were you gonna tell me about you and Dr. Hottie?” she asks with a hint of a smirk, and I furrow my brows.
“What are you talking about?”
“You and Dr. Robert Jenkins.”
Of course I know who she’s talking about, but I’m still confused about what she’s insinuating. “What about him?”
Abby rolls her eyes. “So you’re telling me you didn’t go on an official date with him?”
“Uh, no. I only accompanied him to that charity event last weekend. Rob’s date had canceled on him last minute, so I filled in.”
An impatient tsk -sound escapes her lips. “Come on! You can’t keep on pretending that nothing’s going on between the two of you. ”
“Abby, we’re just friends. He’s like a brother to me, and there’ll never be more, so stop prying.”
She waves off my remark. “Fine. But you would make such a cute couple.”
“Abby.”
She laughs at my scolding glare. “I want you to be happy, honey. I haven’t seen you with a man in forever.”
“Please! I don’t need a man to be happy.” Especially after my last experience two months ago. No, thank you. “By the way,” I say, intending to change the subject before she starts a rant about all the downsides of being single, “you haven’t told me anything about your honeymoon. Did you enjoy yourselves?”
Abby’s lips stretch into the broadest grin. Great, that worked. “It was amazing.” She leans back in her chair with a happy sigh. “I thought spending three weeks in the same spot would get boring, but I was wrong.”
“If that spot is one of the most beautiful islands of the Caribbean and next to you is your newlywed husband, it doesn’t get much better than that.”
“True.”
“So you don’t regret getting married?” I tilt my head to the side, blinking at her.
“It’s only been two months. And I work a lot,” she adds, lifting her hand palm up and shrugging before we both burst out laughing.
“Hey, ladies. I hate to interrupt, but we could use some help here.”
Abby and I lift our heads, and I suck in a sharp breath at the sight before me. I stop myself from fanning my face because that would be silly. Not a single soul would blame me if I did, though, because we are looking at three gorgeous guys, all well-built, all breathtakingly handsome in their own way, standing at the front desk. You can smell the testosterone that fills the air.
The only thing that disturbs the picture is the blood-stained cloth one of them presses against his forehead.
I look at the tall guy next to him, with messy brown hair and a full beard, and a smile appears on my face. “Oh, hey, Paul.”
I know Paul from his volunteer work at the children’s hospital. He comes in every other weekend to make music for the kids while they play with Hank, his trained therapy dog. The other two must be his friends and bandmates, whom I’ve already heard so much about, but I haven’t made it to one of their gigs yet.
The guy with the bloody cloth snorts. “Unbelievable. Is there one place in the whole of New York where we can go, and neither of you knows any of the women?”
Paul gives him a shove, which makes him flinch. “Shut up, Jack.” He turns to me. “So Emma, I’d love to catch up, but our friend won’t stop bleeding.”
With a glance, I make sure Paul’s friend won’t pass out any second. Smiling, I hand him all the necessary forms. “Have a seat and fill these out. I’ll be with you shortly.”
A little while later, I lead the three of them into a small exam room. On our way, I turn to Paul. “How are Tessa and Sam? ”
Tessa is his girlfriend, and Sam is her younger brother.
“They’re good,” Paul says. “Sam had some trouble with his diabetes, but all is back under control.”
“That’s good to hear. Tell them I said hi.”
We enter the exam room, and I point to the examination table. I search for the patient’s name on the form. “Please sit, Mr. Boyd. I’ll have a look at your wound.”
He sits down reluctantly while his two friends stand next to us with crossed arms, watching us. “Please, call me Jack. As you’re one of Paul’s friends,” he says with a sigh.
I smile at him. “Okay, Jack. Could you please remove the cloth so I can see the damage?”
He takes a deep breath before doing as I asked him. A deep cut, about two inches long, runs along his forehead right above his left eyebrow.
“What happened? You get into a bar fight?” I smile as I get the things I need to clean the cut.
“Not really,” Paul responds for his friend. “Poor Jack was standing by when a guy got pissed at another guy and threw a bottle. The other guy dodged and the bottle hit Jack.”
I nod and stand in front of Jack, who rolls his eyes at his friend. “Okay, I’ll clean the cut before Dr. Harrison will be here in a minute to stitch you up,” I explain.
Jack grimaces. “Really? Stitches?”
“Yes, that cut is too big for anything else. But don’t worry; it won’t leave a scar.”
“That’s not what he’s worried about,” Paul’s other friend, whose name I still don’t know, says .
“Just shut up, Henry.” Jack watches me soak a gauze pad with an antiseptic solution, his eyes narrowing.
“I’ll disinfect the cut. It might sting a little. Close your eyes, please.”
Jack complies, but his body tenses up when I press the gauze pad on his cut. He stops breathing entirely as I take another gauze pad to clean off the blood, and tiny drops of sweat form on his forehead.
“Are you okay, Jack?” I remove the pad and inspect him. His eyes are still closed, and when I touch a bruise that forms on his right cheek, he flinches.
Paul chuckles. “Don’t worry, Emma, he’s all right. You’re too close to him for his liking. Don’t take it personally; he doesn’t like to be touched by anyone.”
“Just shut the fuck up, both of you,” Jack grunts, eyes still closed.
I squint at Paul before looking at Jack. My legs touch his knees, so I step back and address his friends. “You guys should wait outside.”
“What? Why?” Paul furrows his brows.
“Because you’re talking too much. I can’t concentrate.” I shoot him a look that should tell him not to challenge me, and I know Paul well enough to be sure that he won’t.
“Fine.” Paul and Henry exit the exam room, leaving Jack and me in an awkward silence.
I clear my throat. “How, um, how are you feeling? Looks like you were hit by a fist as well.” I point to his cheek.
He shrugs. “I don’t remember much past the moment when the bottle hit my face. Paul mentioned some riot that was going on, and I was attracting trouble tonight.”
Silence fills the room once more while I finish cleaning his wound.
“Thanks for that,” he whispers and points to the door.
“You’re welcome.” I smile at him again, which he hasn’t returned yet. “As nice as Paul is, he can be just as annoying.”
“Yeah, both of them can be annoying. But Paul is right. Don’t take it personally. I do have a problem with anyone invading my personal space.”
I nod and take another step back to show him it’s all right. It doesn’t mean I don’t wonder why, but asking him about the reasons is probably useless. I don’t know what it is about him that’s so intriguing, but I find myself attracted to him. Something about his brooding nature calls to me.
Must be my nurse’s helper syndrome.
But in my defense, he’s so handsome. His light brown, short hair is still long enough to run your fingers through. His eyes are a warm, chocolaty color, and in my head, I hear the sound my nails would make if I scraped his five o’clock shadow. A tribal half-sleeve tattoo covers his left upper arm and possibly parts of his pecs, as far as I can tell, when I lift the sleeve of his T-shirt to put the blood pressure cuff on his arm.
Damn, he’s hot.
Fucking shit! Someone stop me, please!
Luckily, Dr. Harrison walks in before I question my sanity any further and I undress him mentally.
After some initial questioning, Dr. Harrison stitches Jack up in no time. While he does, I watch Jack more closely. He’s just as tense as he was when I stood in front of him, and he only relaxes once Dr. Harrison takes a few steps back.
“Okay, Mr. Boyd,” he says. “All done. If I understood correctly from what you’ve told me, you took quite the blow to your head.” He checks Jack’s pupillary light reflex. “How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Headache? Nausea?”
Jack shrugs. “A little bit of all of that.”
“You might have a concussion. You should be under medical surveillance for the rest of the night.”
Jack groans. “You mean I have to stay?”
“Just until the morning. Emma will tell you everything you need to know.” He looks at me, and I nod before he says goodbye, leaving Jack and me in an awkward silence yet again.
And again, I have to clear my throat before I speak. “If you stay, I can arrange a room for you here.” Yup, totally no selfish reasons involved to ignore the usual procedure and keep him close instead of sending him off to another ward where he’ll be under just as competent medical surveillance. “I’ll check on you hourly at first and, after that, every two hours to ensure you don’t show any signs of a cerebral hemorrhage. Brain bleeding,” I add when he gives me a funny look. “Any questions so far?”
“Is this really necessary?” With a sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair just as I imagined earlier, and I catch myself watching him like some creepy nutcase. Why can’t I stop thinking about running my fingers through his hair? Dammit, Emma! What the fuck?
“Uh—” He probably thinks I have a cold, considering how often I have to clear my throat. “If you don’t want to stay, we can’t make you. But it’d be better if you weren’t alone tonight.”
I hope he won’t say he’s going home to his girlfriend, who will care for him.
Jack seems to weigh his options before looking at me with hooded eyes. The exhaustion is written all over his face, and I already feel bad knowing I’d have to wake him up every hour if he stayed.
Again, I wonder what it is about him that draws me in. Shit, I have to remember to stay away from guys like him. Because he sure seems like trouble.
Jack lets out a long and heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
Two hours later, I enter Jack’s room for the night. He lies on the bed, eyes closed, breathing evenly. I place the things I brought on the bedside table and take his pulse. And while I do, his heart rate accelerates, and sure enough, a second later, his eyes fly open, and he sits up abruptly. “Hey,” I say softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He groans and rubs his forehead. “Hmhmm. And before you ask,” he says after I check his blood pressure, “I still have a headache and feel a little dizzy and nauseated. But I’m also hungry.”
“I brought food.” I point to the bedside table, and Jack narrows his eyes.
“A peach?” He raises a questioning eyebrow at me .
“Yes, a peach. Peaches are an excellent source of many nutrients. And they’re delicious. But I also brought you a sandwich.” I smile at him, although I don’t know why I bother. He never returns it, just as he hardly talks to me at all or even looks at me.
Why did he agree to stay? He seems like the kind of guy who claims he doesn’t need any help, let alone medical surveillance.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, still not meeting my eyes.
“All done for now. I’ll be back in an hour.”
And again, the only response I receive is a quick nod and more silence. I close the door behind me and lean against it, drawing in a deep, frustrated breath.
Don’t be stupid, Emma!
Being attracted to a guy like him isn’t the best idea.
As the night goes on, I’m so busy that I don’t have much time to think about him in between my check-ups on him. He falls back asleep quickly, so it comes as no surprise I’m greeted with a frustrated groan every time I have to wake him up and ask him to tell me his name and location. The longer I stand close to him, watching him, wondering, the stronger this pull toward him becomes. Something I have absolutely no rational explanation for. How can I feel attracted to a man like him? A man who shows no further interest in me. A man who seems so closed off and unwilling to make any contact. I need to work on my helper syndrome.
Just before my shift ends at six a.m., I check on Jack one last time. Yes, totally necessary! He’s fast asleep, and it’s an enormous struggle not to tilt my head and smile goofily because he looks so freaking handsome .
I scold myself for the umpteenth time before placing more food and a note on the bedside table.
And with one last and absolutely no longing gaze, I exit the room. Good thing I won’t see him again anytime soon. Because that is so much for the better.