I excuse myself, removing my gloves and pulling my mask down before I check the time on my watch. With a little room before my next surgery, I head for the café to get tea.
And with the job done, anxiety creeps back in.
Thoughts of Amanda bombard me, flashes of Sunday night striking me like hot lightning at the same time that my stomach sinks from not having heard from her in four days.
I crossed the line again, and now I’m paying for it.
I curse internally, wondering if I’ve screwed it all up, but at the same time I know I wouldn’t take it back even if I had the chance.
She wanted me, too.
The way her breath was shallow and ragged, how she opened for me, the gasp that slipped from her lips in the exact moment I decided I was going to claim them for my own…
And then Samuel called.
Another fire-breathing dragon huff leaves me at the memory, the same reaction I have every time I think about that douchebag firefighter. In all reality, he’s probably a great guy. He’s a hero, really — literally running into burning buildings to save people.
But the moment he laid a hand on Amanda, he became an enemy to me.
On the elevator ride down to the café, I text Asher.
Me: Hey, man. Great event on Saturday.
Asher: Glad you could make it. We raised the most we ever have for the Burn Foundation.
Me: Not surprised with you in charge.
I pause, debating the can of worms I’ll open by asking about Samuel, but I decide it’s worth it.
Me: There was a guy on our squad, a Samuel… you know anything about him?
Asher: Samuel Waters. Yeah, he’s a cocky sonofabitch, but a damn good firefighter. Also, a pain in my ass most of the time. Why?
I crack my neck.
Me: He’s taking Amanda on a date.
Asher: I’m assuming Amanda is the juicy snack who was with you Saturday? I need details. What’s going on with you two? Who is she?
Me: Another time. Just tell me I don’t need to worry.
Asher: About Samuel? Honestly, man… he probably just wants to fuck her.
Red.
Murderous, blood-stained red.
That’s all I see when I read that text, and another fiery breath leaves my chest.
Asher: But I don’t know, maybe he’ll be a gentleman. I just know his track record, and it’s filled with the same events, if you know what I mean.
I do know what he means.
I nearly break my phone in the vise grip I’ve got it in, but manage to calm myself enough to text back.
Me: Thanks for the info.
Asher: If you like her, just tell her. My guess is she feels the same.
If only it were that easy.
I tuck my phone away, making my way through the halls to the café. Beck and Larsen are in line already, both looking like they need caffeine just as much as I do.
Lars smiles when I join them. “Glad to see we’re not the only ones struggling today. You’re usually fine without caffeine.”
“Yeah, well, it was a… long weekend.”
“It’s Thursday,” Beck points out with a smirk. “Don’t think you can blame the weekend anymore.”
But Lars eyes me curiously, tapping her chin. “This have anything to do with Amanda Parks?”
My jaw clenches, and Beck arches a brow, looking between me and Larson. “What did I miss?”
It’s his turn in line then, and I nod toward the barista. “Caffeine first. I need it if you want the details.”
Once they have coffee and I have my tea, we confirm we each have a few minutes before we’re needed anywhere and sit at one of the small tables. I fill them in as quickly as I can on my current situation.
Beck whistles when I’m done, shaking his head with his hands wrapped around his coffee. “That’s tricky, alright.”
I just lift my brows because I already know that much.
“Look, I’m not a mom,” Larsen says. “But if I was, I imagine my kid would be the most important thing in my world. As hard as this is for you, it probably feels impossible to her.”
“I know. But I also know she feels something for me, too.”
“Can you just talk to your friend? Is there any way he’d understand?” Beck tries.
I level my gaze at him. “Oh, I don’t know. How would you have felt if I’d said I wanted to bang your mom when she was alive?”
His jaw tenses, and he shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I’d have fucking murdered you.”
Another lift of my brows, as if to say exactly.
“I hate to say it, but maybe you should nip this in the bud now… before you get in too deep,” Lars advises.
“Is that your professional advice?” I tease.
“If you were my client, it’s exactly what I’d tell you to do.”
I nod, swallowing. “And if I can’t let her go?”
She shrugs. “Then I hope you understand how badly it will hurt when you have no choice but to.”
I stare at my hands, rib cage suffocating my lungs with the thought.
“And what about you and Dane?” I ask with a smirk, trying to change the subject. “Care to tell us what’s going on there?”
Beck’s brow arches even higher into his hairline. “Oh, please do.”
But Larson is already standing with a shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Lars…” I try.
“Oh, look at the time. Gotta go!” She winks at us before strutting away.
“Did she just wink?” Beck asks, shock washing over him.
“Perhaps a certain security guard is thawing the ice queen’s heart,” I tease.
Beck just gapes, still not believing it. But if he knew Dane how I do, he’d understand. That guy is too charming to resist. He’s the only reason I ever peeled my nose out of the textbooks and had a little fun when we were in college.
“Dane will tell me sooner or later!” I call out after her.
But she just waves sweetly over her shoulder, not denying, certainly not acknowledging.
My phone buzzes against my hip, and I stand, knowing without looking that it’s a page from a nurse.
But when I look at the screen, my heart stops at Amanda’s name reflected back at me.
“Is it her?” Beck asks.
I nod, throat tight.
Amanda: Okay, spontaneous list idea. I want to go to a Lightning game.
“Oh, fuck me,” I whine, biting my knuckle as I read the text.
“What? What is it?”
“She wants me to take her to a Lightning game.”
Amanda: Tonight.
“Tonight,” I echo the text with another whimper.
Beck laughs at that. “Please, control yourself. I don’t want to have to explain why you came in your pants in the hospital.”
“You know the only thing I love more than my job is hockey.”
“Oh, trust me. I know. I learned after one time watching a game with you that I never wanted to experience that volume from you again.” He chuckles. “I didn’t even know you could raise your voice until I heard you screaming for Kucherov to shoot the damn puck!”
I flick him off.
“What do I do?” I ask, staring at the text.
Beck shrugs, standing to join me. “You’re not really asking me. So just do what you already know you want to.”