5
Polina
The IV is half-ripped from his arm when I walk in on day ten, and he’s reaching for a stack of folded clothes on the visitor’s chair like he’s decided he’s leaving.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He continues tugging at the medical tape while his other arm reaches for a black sweater that the so-called brother left behind. The IV line hangs from the crook of his elbow, barely attached, and a bead of blood is forming where the needle has moved.
“Getting dressed,” he replies, like this is the most reasonable thing in the world.
I step inside and kick the door shut behind me. “You haven’t been cleared. Sit down before you rip your sutures.”
“I’m discharging myself.”
“That’s not how this works.” I grab the IV line before he can yank it out the rest of the way. “If you leave against medical advice andthat wound reopens, you won’t make it to another ER in time. Do you understand that?”
“I understand the risks, and I accept?—”
“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be standing here trying to put on a sweater with three bullet wounds that have only begun to heal.” I step closer and block his path to the chair.
He stops pulling at the tape. The stubborn ass doesn’t sit down, but he at least stops.
“Sit. Down.”
For a long second, he just looks at me. Then something changes behind his eyes. The cockiness fades, and what’s left isn’t the man who flirted with me from a hospital bed. This version of him looks tired. Worn down. Almost guilty, and that throws me more than anything else he’s done so far.
“You’ve done enough,” he says so quietly that I’m not sure I heard him right. “More than enough. I’m not going to let you risk your career for me anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Doctor.” He drops the sweater and turns to face me. Even as a patient, barefoot on cold linoleum, he commands the room. “You’ve falsified records and lied to your colleagues. If anyone connects the dots, you’ll lose everything.”
The pretense crumbles. Neither of us says a name, but we both know what’s in this room. Not a construction worker and his surgeon, but two people from families that would sooner kill each other than share a hallway.
“I knew what I was doing,” I snap.
He jabs a finger in the general direction of the OR and shouts, “You traded a decade of work for a man who should have died on that table.”
Something hot and furious rises in my chest. “I didn’t spend four hours pulling bullets from your body so you could walk out of here and bleed to death in a parking garage. That is not how this ends.”
“How does it end, then?” He shuffles toward me, and I square my shoulders, bracing myself against the way my heart stutters when he’s so close that I can feel his breath ghost across my face. “You keep me here, keep lying for me, keep risking everything, and then what? Your family finds out. Mine finds out. You’re the one who pays the price.”
“That’s my decision.”
Another step. He’s close enough now that I can feel his body heat seeping through my scrubs. “I won’t be the reason you lose this.” His voice drops. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re an idiot. You don’t get to choose what I sacrifice. I have been taking care of myself since I was sixteen years old.” I keep my voice level even though my hands are shaking. “Built my career. Earned my place in this hospital. Nobody gave me anything, and nobody gets to take it from me. Not my family, not yours, and definitely not you.”
“I’m not trying to take anything from you.”
“Then stop trying to make decisions for me.”
As we stare at each other, the room feels too small. Not a muscle moves between us.
“And you don’t get to pretend this is about medicine.” One more step, and my back meets the door. He rests his good hand against the door beside my head, caging me in without making contact. “Tell me the truth, Doctor. Why did you really save me?”
My pulse is slamming against my ribs, and every breath comes shallow and fast as his eyes dip to my mouth. His lips are right there, and he’s close enough that I can count the stubble along his jaw. My tongue darts out to slide along my bottom lip, and he watches the movement as he sucks in a breath.
