Page 56 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

“Water would be great,” she says, breathless.

I straighten up, putting distance between us. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah.” She nods weakly against the pillow. “I just probably spent too long in the shower.”

I nod, not really believing that, but there’s no other obvious reason for why she fainted. I head to the kitchen, fill a glass with cold water, and when I get back, I make her go through the checks properly.

As I sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress dips under my weight. “Look at my finger,” I instruct, holding it up and moving it in an H-pattern in front of her face. Her eyes track it smoothly. Good.

I take her pulse at her wrist again, pressing my fingers against the delicate skin, feeling the steady thump beneath. “Sixty-five,” I murmur. Normal. I press the back of my hand to her forehead, then her cheeks. Skin warm, but not feverish. Temperature’s normal.

“Deep breath for me,” I say, and she complies, her chest rising and falling evenly. No respiratory distress.

“Any dizziness? Nausea? Headache?” I run through the checklist automatically, my doctor brain taking over.

“No, no, and no,” she answers, her voice stronger now. “I feel fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”

“Any chest pain? Palpitations before you fainted?”

“Nope. I just felt hot, and then everything went fuzzy.”

I nod slowly, mentally cataloguing the symptoms. A syncope, probably from the hot shower combined with not eating much. Blood pressure dropped, not enough oxygen to the brain for a moment. Nothing immediately concerning, but I’ll keep an eye on her. If she’d been alone, she could’ve gone down hard. Hit her head on the tile, re-injured her ankle. Laid there until someone thought to check. That’s why I’m here.

“Blood pressure’s probably fine now, but it likely dropped in the shower,” I explain. “When’s the last time you ate something substantial?”

She bites her lip, thinking. “They brought me something this morning before discharge. I only had a few bites. I wasn’t really hungry.”

“Hot water, low blood sugar, standing for too long.” I shake my head. “You need to eat regularly, especially with the injury. Your body’s working overtime to heal.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she says with a small smile, and there’s something in the way she says it that makes a low and pleasant hum warm my blood.

She tries to sit up, pushing herself onto her elbows.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” I say, my hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down gently.

“I can’t just lie here,” she protests. “There’s no TV in the bedroom. I’ll go crazy.”

“Well, let me at least get you to the sofa before you pass out again.”

Before she can argue, I’m lifting her into my arms. I know she could use her crutches, but for some reason, my body is moving of its own accord, scooping her up and carrying her close to my chest.

She gasps, her hands flying to my shoulders to steady herself, before her head lies against me. Her warm body in my hold feels… nice. Too nice.

I lower her onto the sofa carefully, then go about propping her injured leg on a cushion and tucking another pillow behind her head, adjusting it until she’s comfortable.

“Do you want a blanket?” I ask, looking down at her.

She smirks up at me, that playful glint back in her eyes. “Sure.”

“What are you smirking at?” I ask as I cross my arms.

“You,” she answers with a smug grin that makes my chest tighten.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I just… I don’t know. I shouldn’t be surprised you’re this caring, but…” she trails off, studying my face. “You’re surprising me.”

I look at her, holding her gaze, because I know exactly what she means. I’m not normally like this. Actually, I’m never like this… all soft, attentive, and domestic. I’m blaming her for whatever it is about her that makes me feel this way.