Page 15 of Healing Hearts

An image from her dream flashed in her mind, reminding her of the girl. It was as if her brain didn’t want her to forget.

Who are you?

Gene left her to go to the kitchen. He’d made himself as comfortable as he could in Amanda’s home last night. He’d used her shower and made a make-shift bed on her couch, though he hadn’t slept much. His system had gone haywire with a surge of need when he’d touched Amanda last night. Something he’d never experienced before when caring for a patient. It’d been stupid to comfort her because the memory of her warm body molding to his had tortured him all night. But at least she’d rested.

Amanda had slept fine for the first couple of hours. He’d had to wake her to assess her a couple of times during the night. She was lucky she didn’t sustain more damage. The incoming traffic could have hit her when she’d swerved into the other lane. He vividly remembered a truck speeding past him as he raced to get to her. The asshole hadn’t even stopped.

She’s okay.

A little bum head and wrist, but she’d be as good as new in a couple of weeks.

Gene was just putting down the plate of toast on the dining table when Amanda walked out. She had a pair of loose shorts underneath the T-shirt she’d worn to bed. He wondered how she’d put those on. Those shorts were probably easy enough to wiggle on.

Cause, man… She was really testing me with those polka-dot panties.

The memory of pulling those panties up Amanda’s legs made Gene’s mouth dry. From his position, kneeling in front of her, he could glimpse the shadow at the apex of her thighs.

Then there was her womanly scent… fuck.

Gene easily compartmentalized work and pleasure into two very different boxes. Last night—helping her in the tub, dressing her, and cuddling her to sleep—had been a whole unfamiliar territory he wasn’t sure how to classify.

Amanda rubbed Loki on the head before she sat down and drank the juice he’d found in the fridge. The dog laid his chin on Amanda’s thigh, as if he knew his human wasn’t well.

“Can I have coffee?” she said as she eyed his cup.

“Not a good idea for now. How about tea? Less caffeine.”

She nodded.

“Eat slowly. If you can keep that down, maybe you can try some fruit. I saw fresh berries in the fridge. They’re good for a jostled brain,” he said.

“My brain is just fine, thank you very much.” She searched the table. “Are you eating? I feel weird if you’re just watching.”

Patient care was on his mind, not socializing. But he supposed he’d broken enough rules already. It was just a meal.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “You start on that toast while I brew your tea.”

“Okay, doc.”

Gene opted for something easy: a bowl of cereal and milk with a handful of blueberries. It was better than his usual gallon of coffee and a protein bar.

“How are you doing with the toast?” he asked as he sat down.

She was done with the first piece. “I’m kinda craving biscuits and gravy.” Gene laughed. “Tell you what. When you feel all better, I’ll take you for a proper breakfast.”

“Promise?” Amanda smiled.

Gene stopped chewing his first spoonful. Taking a patient out for a meal was technically not a breach of ethical conduct, if there wasn’t any romantic intention behind the meal. But he was already crossing numerous boundaries with Amanda.

She isn’t technically my patient.

There wasn’t any paperwork that formalized their doctor-patient relationship. He hadn’t signed anything for the EMTs last night. Amanda’s refusal of service had been the only thing required. And honestly, he’d just wanted to help her. It was the main reason he’d become a doctor. He hated the fact that he had to think of all these scenarios when deciding what needed to be done to help someone feel better.

“Let’s take it one piece of toast at a time,” Gene said, keeping it safe.

They ate in awkward silence for a minute.

“You haven’t changed much since high school, have you?” Amanda asked.

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