“Maybe just a little,” she admits.
I twist in my chair, careful not to move my leg. “What kind of nurse enjoys seeing her patients suffer?”
She presses her lips flat, but I can tell she’s trying to suppress a smile. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“If you want to make it up to me,” I say, smirking, “we can always find a closet and make out.”
I’m only half-joking. Because the idea of holding Harper in my arms and kissing those sexy heart-shaped lips of hers? I’ve been fantasizing about it since the moment she first set foot in my room.
“Yeah, that’s definitely not happening,” she says, laughing. “Rules, remember?”
Fuckin’ rules.
“This place sucks,” I mutter, slouching back in my wheelchair. “If I’d known what I was getting myself into, I never would’ve gone up on that roof.”
Not entirely true, because even though I’m starting to think Harper’s a masochist—tempting me with video games I can’t play is just cruel—I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet her. She’s sweet and funny, and I love how she gives as good as she gets. I’ve never dated a girl like her.
And you never will at this rate.
“Why did you go up on that roof?” she asks, the question slicing through my thoughts as we stop at the rooftop elevator.
Something tells me she’s not asking about the shoe or the dare. She already knows that side of the story, thanks to social media. No, there’s a deeper meaning to the question, but for the life of me, I’m not sure what she wants me to say. Bringing up Red feels wrong. I’m not about to jeopardize my…whatever Harper and I have…talking about another woman. One who didn’t even check to make sure I was okay after the ambulance carted me off. Talk about misreading the room. I actually thought she was into me. And it’s almost too simplistic to say that I’m a prideful idiot, though it’s the truth.
“Honestly? I’m not even sure I know anymore. The whole night is a blur.” I pause, exhaling through my nose as a dull throb pounds against the base of my skull. Maybe this walk wasn’t such a good idea after all. I didn’t take the doc seriously when he said to take it easy. I’m a D1 athlete, for fuck’s sake, but yeah, this whole experience has taken its toll, physically and emotionally. “I know social media’s saying I’m some kind of modern-day Prince Charming, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Hell, I didn’t even get the girl. Just her shoe.”
Harper freezes, her finger halfway to the elevator button. “You still have the shoe?”
“Ironic, right?” I rub the back of my neck and look up at her. “The guys on the team dropped it off Saturday. Put it on a little blue pillow and everything.”
“So you’re going to try and find her?” she asks, wariness creeping into her voice as she jabs the up button. “The girl from the party, I mean.”
And this is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about Red with Harper. Whatever interest I had in Red, it’s nothing compared to the connection I feel with Harper. I’m not the kind of guy to chase a woman who’s not interested any more than I’m the sort to play the field. I need Harper to know that too.
“You can’t seriously think I’m still interested in her after everything that’s happened?” I reach up and clasp her wrist, wrapping my fingers around her slender wrist. “There’s only one woman I’m interested in getting to know and she’s right here.”
Now if I could just convince her to give me a chance.
Chapter Five
Harper
By the time the end of my shift rolls around, I’m tired as hell and my guilt has reached new levels of soul-crushing despair. Chase said it himself. I’m the worst. Well, okay, maybe he didn’t use thoseexactwords, but his feelings for Red—forme—were pretty clear.
Like he said, how could he possibly be interested after everything that’s happened?
I don’t blame him. I don’t. And if he knewIwas Red? He’d never look at me the same way again. Which would be a shame because the idea of making out with Chase in a closet? I’ve got to admit, the suggestion held some appeal, even if it was inappropriate as hell.
Still, it’s my fault he’s laid up with a broken leg, cut off from everyone and everything he loves. The least I can do is try to make his stay at WUMC a little easier.
I straighten my spine and square my shoulders, forcing a bright smile as I knock on his door.
There’s a muffled reply, which I assume is consent to enter. I push the door open, pulling my cart behind me.
Chase’s smile widens when he sees me, and suddenly I don’t have to work quite so hard at my own smile. I don’t know how he manages it, but despite the circumstances, he’s always upbeat. The energy is infectious.
“Isn’t your shift over?” he asks, glancing at the clock above the door.
“Yeah, but I thought you might want some company.” I hold up the deli bag. “I come bearing sandwiches.”
