We’re so close I can see the white flecks that circle his irises, reflecting the light like tiny chips of ice. Our eyes meet and my breath hitches in my throat.
Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine…
Shit. We’re too close. He’s going to recognize me and then he’ll hate me, just like the rest of the world. The idea guts me. I’d much rather—
“Heart rate?” Nurse Rogers asks, snapping me out of my head.
I glance down, trying to remember the count, but it’s no use. I’ve lost it. “I’m going to take it again,” I say, cheeks hot. “Just to double check.”
I start again, this time pointedly ignoring Chase—the patient’s—heated stare. I finish taking his vitals with record speed and I’m beyond ready to move on to the next patient once we’ve finished administering his meds.
“Is there anything else you need?” Nurse Rogers asks, unusually obliging as she checks his IV.
I make the mistake of looking at Chase, and once again, his gaze is locked on me as he grins and says, “I’ve got everything I need.”
Chase
It’s been a rough week, but things are finally looking up. Maybe a smoking-hot nurse is just what the doctor ordered. I’d much rather soak up Nurse Payne’s sexy vibe than spend another day watching cartoons and wallowing in self-pity, wondering what my future holds.
Coach promised to hold a spot for me on next year’s roster—after he ripped me a new one for being an irresponsible dumbass—but with two broken bones and the complications from the infection, who knows if I’ll ever be able to play ball again?
Fear snakes up my spine and sweat beads along my hairline, a visceral reminder of my stupidity.
It’s not like I was headed to the NFL, but I thought I had one more season. One more shot at a national title. Football’s always been a means to an end for me. Play ball, earn scholarship money. But now that it’s been ripped away?
That shit hurts.
Turns out the game—and the team—mean more to me than I’d realized.
The idea of never playing again, of never stepping out on that field with my team… It’s too much to wrap my head around. Hell, I’m still reeling from the prospect of spending two months on my ass. Doc says I can’t put any weight on my leg for eight weeks.
Eight. Weeks.
It’s only day six, and I’m already losing my mind.
The lead nurse is tapping away on the computer again, whispering instructions to Nurse Payne. I don’t know what they’re discussing, but I’m not going to complain about being left out. Not when it gives me a chance to study Nurse Payne’s killer curves.
Look, I know scrubs aren’t supposed to be sexy, but this girl? She’s the exception. The navy fabric hugs her body, highlighting every dip and swell. Her dark hair is pulled back in a low ponytail that hangs over her shoulder, accentuating the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Plus, she’s got these full, heart-shaped lips that are just begging to be kissed.
I feel like we’ve met before, but I can’t seem to place her, so it’s probably wishful thinking. Because if we’d met on campus? I definitely would’ve asked her out.
The lead nurse pulls out her phone and glances at the screen. “Finish up here. I’ll be right back.”
Nurse Payne’s eyes go wide with panic, and for a second I think she’s going to cut and run, but she holds her ground.
The lead nurse disappears into the hall and we’re left alone.
I’m tempted to ask if it’s her first day, because while her touch is gentle, her bedside manner? Well, let’s just say I’m glad she’s not holding a needle.
“So, you’re a student at Waverly?” I ask, hoping to put her at ease.
“Yeah.” She scans the room, looking everywhere but at me. Which kind of sucks, if I’m being honest. I thought we had a moment before.
“Me too. Or, at least, I was.”
She freezes, then slowly turns to face me. “Was?”
“I had to withdraw for the semester,” I say, pointing to my leg, which looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. Thank God for painkillers and the miracles of modern medicine, because if it felt even half as bad as it looked, I’d be wailing like a newborn.
