Too late, it’s partof my charm package
Ivy
Package, huh?
Teddy
Don’t twist my words
Ivy
Two hours. Try not to cause trouble before then.
Teddy
No promises *angel emoji*
31
IVY
DECEMBER 31
Floating through the rest of my shift, I answer a few questions for the nurse taking over, forcing smiles where they’re needed. All the while avoiding the constant pull of the hallway leading to Teddy’s room.
I’ve never blurred the lines with a patient before. Never even wanted to. But with him, everything feels different. My pulse jumps when his fingers find mine, and I crave his voice like oxygen. Sometimes I catch myself lingering on his smile, the one with two fake front teeth after a puck shattered the original pair in high school. Somehow, even that imperfection makes him more magnetic.
The moment my shift ends, I find myself standing in front of his door. I knock before stepping in, even if he has told me it’s unnecessary. Teddy’s sitting up in bed, his hair damp from a shower. He’s wearing a Woodpeckers hoodie and the hospital blanket is bunched around his waist.
“Damn I have missed you.” His words come out rough, like he hasn’t spoken since the interview two days ago.I love that heknew it was me before I even said a word.
My heart hits my ribs hard enough to bruise. I lock the door behind me and walk over to his bed. “I missed you, too.”
“Come here.”
The words ripple through me. I take one step, then another, until I’m close enough to feel the heat of him. He exhales, voice dropping. “You’re finally here.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper back, though it comes out breathier than I intended.
“And yet, you still showed up. Must mean something.”
I swallow hard as my palms go warm. “Don’t start with me.”
“Too late. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” His fingers brush my hip. “Your smart mouth. Your addicting touch. The cute sound you make when you try not to laugh.”
“Teddy—” I nearly whisper.
“You’re not my nurse anymore,” he reminds me. “And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want you.”
I sit on the edge of his bed because my legs won’t hold me. His knee grazes mine, just a light touch, and my whole body flares in awareness. His hand finds my wrist, thumb tracing a line that makes every nerve in my body light up.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m not,” I lie, because admitting the truth might unravel the last thread of composure holding me together.
“You are.” His thumb circles again. “Don’t be nervous around me. Not tonight.”
“I shouldn’t be here like this.”
