I tap the envelope against my palm, considering.“And Xavier’s your scapegoat?”
“He’s the one who performed the procedure.”
“Successfully, I’m guessing, since you wanted him to falsify the records.”
The administrator’s silence is answer enough.I tuck the envelope into my jacket.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I tell him.“I’m going to look through these papers.If Xavier did everything by the book, which I’m certain he did, then your hospital’s legal team needs to grow a pair and fight this lawsuit properly.If I find out you’re still pressuring him, or if anyone else from administration shows up at his home…” I let the threat hang in the air.
“You don’t understand the politics involved,” he protests weakly.
“I understand power dynamics better than you think,” I reply.“Now, get the fuck out of here.”
The administrator doesn’t need to be told twice.He hurries back to his car, fumbling with his keys in his haste to leave.I watch until his taillights disappear around the corner before turning my attention to Xavier’s apartment.
The lights are still off.Good.He didn’t hear any of this.Doesn’t need to know about this particular problem just yet.
I walk back to my bike, envelope secure in my jacket.Tomorrow, I’ll have the club’s lawyer review these documents, find out exactly what kind of trouble Xavier might be in.For tonight, though, my job is done.He’s safe.
As I start my motorcycle, I glance once more at his darkened window.After our encounter earlier, everything has changed.Tomorrow, I won’t be lurking in shadows or watching from a distance.
Tomorrow, for the first time in years, I’ll approach him directly.The thought sends a thrill of anticipation through me that has nothing to do with violence and everything to do with the way Xavier looked at me tonight like he’s been waiting just as long as I have.
I rev the engine and pull away from the curb, the weight of the medical documents heavy against my chest.One more problem to solve, one more threat to eliminate.
After all, I’ve spent years making sure Xavier’s path is clear.I’m not about to stop now, not when we might finally have a chance to walk it together.
CHAPTERTWO
Xavier
My alarm blares at five a.m., yanking me from a dream where Zach’s hands had been exploring places that still make my cheeks burn.I fumble for my phone, silencing it before dragging myself to the shower.The hot water does little to wash away those lingering images or the anticipation coiling in my stomach.
As I dress for work, I keep staring at my phone on the nightstand.Zach’s number sits there in my contacts, just a tap away.I pick it up, thumb hovering over the messaging app.
Too early.Too eager.Too much.
I set the phone down, grab my keys, and head out.
By seven a.m., I am checking in patients at the ER, but my mind keeps wandering.Twice, I catch myself reaching for my phone while updating charts.Both times, I stop myself, cursing under my breath.
“You look distracted,” Nurse Reynolds says, sliding a patient’s file across the desk.“Late night?”
“Something like that,” I mumble, suddenly noticing the faint bruising along my knuckles.
At ten thirty-four a.m., while I am suturing a construction worker’s forearm, my phone buzzes in my pocket.My heart leaps into my throat, the needle freezing mid-stitch.
“You okay, Doc?”the patient asks.
“Fine,” I manage, finishing the suture with steady hands that belies the riot in my chest.Only after he leaves do I check my phone.
Just a text from Samantha.Still alive after last night’s throwdown?Took two aspirin and feeling badass.
My fingers hover over the keyboard.I could ask her for Zach’s number.Double-check I hadn’t hallucinated the whole encounter.But that feels like cheating somehow.
By lunch break, I have drafted and deleted seven different messages to Zach.Each one sounds either too formal, too desperate, or too casual.How do you message someone you’ve fantasized about for years after they’ve finally shown interest?
Hey, thanks for defending my honor last nightsounds ridiculous.
