Death and I were strange bedfellows. I rarely dwelt on losing a patient. I couldn’t without going crazy. Instead, I’d run through my procedures to see if there was anything I could do differently. Eventually my case would be up for review, and I’d sit across from our medical director and be told what I could have done faster, better.
“I’m sorry.”
Those not in the profession never knew how to console us on an off day. It wasn’t a missing stapler or forgetting to include fries. Our bad days meant people died.
“What are you doing here?”
I looked up to see his face studying the influx of people arriving at the hospital. He was hunting for somebody in particular. Eye-level with his belt buckle, I couldn’t helpbut let my eyes travel downward. Any other day, I’d have let out a whistle at the bulge in his jeans.
“I was at the bridge and this random dude nearly fell to his death.” I looked up from his package to see him grinning. Caught. “I thought I’d stop by and see if he was going to pull through.”
Smooth, I’d give him that. “Nice try. Why are youreallyhere?”
“Okay, but your biceps are a perk.” Was he flirting? Where the hell was Alejandro when I needed him? “Did you see the light?”
“Yeah, Lei nearly crashed the ambulance. Never seen anything like that in Vanguard. And I mean…” I gestured to a seven-foot cyborg stomping its way into the emergency room.
“Not just Vanguard. There are reports from around the globe. My boss asked me to see if I could get an official statement from one of the heroes.”
“A reporter?”
“Well, sort of. I work on the blog for Revelations. A reporter hopeful, you could say. If all goes well, this story could get me bumped up to the big leagues.”
I was about to ask if he knew Griffin or his boyfriend when somebody caught his attention. He put a hand on my shoulder and quickly retracted it.
“Boundaries,” —he tapped a finger on his temple— “see, I can learn. Hate to jet, but I need to keep my job.”
“Always grinding,” I said.
“If you’re lucky.” Okay, screw Alejandro, even I could read the signs. My eyes must have gone wide as he laughed to himself. And with that, Aiden rushed off in pursuit of his story.
I watched his ass as he jogged toward the automatic doors. It was a bad day, but I wasn’t dead. I always enjoyed a man with extra padding. It made for a cushion when things gotvigorousin the bedroom. Before I knew it, I imagined the guy who saved my life naked.
“Shit,” I cursed. I forgot to thank him for saving me. If this funk continued much longer, I was going to crawl into my cave and never leave. I might not be the most approachable person, but Mom raised me to have manners.
“Good luck, kid,” I muttered. At least somebody still had the chance for their day to be better than mine.
5
“Oomph.”
The chain attached to the bag jingled as I landed a right hook. Before it stopped, I followed it with a left jab. The punching bag retreated, attempting to surrender. I waited until it returned for another round. Holding my hands up, I fixed my form, narrowing my shoulders and protecting my face.
Left. Right. Right. Left. Instead of relying solely on boxing, I let the momentum carry my body. Spinning, I came around, smacking the bag with my forearm. If it were a real person, I’d kick at their knee, snapping it before going in for a chokehold.
I had my fist drawn back, ready to strike it again when the bag begged for mercy. The last hit had cut through thefabric, and the sand inside fell to the floor. Inspecting my knuckles, I could see a fine dusting coating my hands.
The trainer waved at me to stop. “These damned bags are always breaking. You’d think with how much we charge you for membership, we’d replace them more regularly.”
I gave him a slight nod before meandering back to the bench with my gym bag. My lungs were on fire, angry at how hard I was working out this morning. But if I was going to be a functional human being for the rest of the day, I had to let out some steam now.
I hated working out. Unfortunately, I loved food and with how much I ran my mouth, I needed a mean right hook to back it up. I could be in the weight room bulking up with the other steroid junkies, or in the yoga studio proving men with guts were incapable of touching their toes. Instead, I came to the older part of the gym with the retired vets lifting free weights and shadow boxing away their demons.
Chimes sounded from my gym bag and I searched for my phone. I didn’t need to read the text to know it was Griffin apologizing for arriving at the gym late. It had become a sick game where I tried to convince him to work up a sweat, and he showed just in time for me to suggest breakfast.
Not today.
I texted him back to meet me in the locker room. Like always, he’d show up with a gym bag to sell the charade,but today I was going to find out if he bothered packing clothes. Throwing a towel around my shoulders, I snatched my gym bag and headed toward the men’s locker room.
