Page 36 of Night Shift

Atticus laughed, but there was an edge to it, a hint of something bitter beneath the surface. “Sam, my brothers don’t think anything of it. They know I have casual sex all the time.” He paused, then added softly, “I made them promise not to say anything about us to people at work.”

“Great,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “So they won’t tell anyone that I let you fuck me like some cheap whore.”

“Hey,” Atticus said sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Whatever!” I shouted, turning away from him. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or even more hurt by his insensitive approach. It was just a one-night experiment; I had no right to be upset. But I couldn’t help it—I felt ashamed and cheap. “Take me home, Atticus,” I demanded. “Right now, or I’ll call an Uber.”

“An Uber? This far from the city?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Then you’ll just have to drive me,” I shot back, shaking with anger.

Without a word, Atticus pulled on his clothes and grabbed his keys. He passed me as he went out the door, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go.”

As we made our way downstairs, my emotions swirled chaotically. I was infuriated at myself for letting things go so far with him, mortified by the whole situation, and hurt by his cavalier attitude toward our night together. My chest tightened, and my breaths came in short gasps. Atticus noticed my distress and took my hand, squeezing it gently.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I lied, my vision starting to swim as I struggled to draw air into my lungs. “Just get me home.”

“Sam, try to breathe,” he told me, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it before. “I’ve got you.”

Despite his assurances, my panic continued to rise, threatening to consume me completely. All I could think about was how everything had changed in one night and how desperately I wished that things could have been different.

The panic clawed its way up my throat, clenching it like a vise. Soon I was gasping for air, each breath more labored than the last. Alarm surged through me as I realized I was having a full-blown panic attack.

“Atticus!” I barely managed to choke out.

He wrapped his arm around my waist. His earlier laughter was gone, replaced by concern. “Sam, sit down on the edge of the sofa,” he instructed, guiding me gently. “Hang your head between your knees. Just breathe.”

My body trembled as I followed his instructions, but the panic continued to build. Atticus walked into the kitchen and returned with a paper bag.

“Here, breathe into this,” he said, placing the bag over my mouth and nose. While I tried to steady my breathing, the world seemed to close in around me. The room spun, and tears began to stream down my face.

“Shh, it’s okay, Sam,” Atticus whispered, sitting beside me. He rubbed soothing circles on my back, trying to ground me and ease my fear.

When the worst of it had subsided, the sobs broke free.

“I’ve had panic attacks since my mom was killed,” I confessed, my voice wavering as I clung to the last shreds of my composure. “I thought I had them under control, but…”

“Shh,” he soothed, pulling me close. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.” He hesitated before continuing. “I’m sorry if I somehow hurt or damaged you. I never meant to.”

He leaned back, and guilt flickered across his face as he studied me. Did he blame himself for this? I didn’t blame him. I just didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with all of this right now.

He helped me gather my things, handling me gently and carefully as if I were made of glass. The silence between us was heavy while we made our way to the car. All the passion and playfulness from earlier was now only a distant memory.

We remained quiet on the drive back to Tacoma, the soft strains of jazz music filling the car. A few times, Atticus broke the silence and tried to comfort me, but I didn’t have the energy to respond.

When we pulled up outside my apartment building, I finally turned to him and spoke. “Tonight never happened,” I said bluntly. “Our not-a-date was just a walk in the park, nothing more.”

The finality of my words hung in the air between us as I climbed out of the car. “Good night, Dr. Thorin.”

I slammed the door behind me, leaving Atticus and our one-night experiment in the past where they belonged.

Chapter ten

When I entered the ED for my shift, a headache was throbbing against my skull and nervous dread was eating at me. It was my first shift since I’d gone with Atticus to his cabin three days ago, and the memory of our sexual encounter was still vivid in my mind. A knot of anxiety twisted my stomach, and my hands were clammy. I wasn’t eager to see him again or for my coworkers to find out what we’d done. But I soon learned that Atticus had finished his night rotation and I wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon. He was back on day shifts, a fact that brought me both relief and an unexpected pang of disappointment.

As I walked through the ED, I kept scanning for his familiar, commanding presence out of habit, only to remember he wasn’t on shift. It was weird to not hear his deep voice in the hallways. I missed it more than I’d thought I would. To make matters worse, Bethany wasn’t here tonight either. Working with the other doctors and nurses was fine—we were all professionals—but I didn’t have the same vibe with them as I did with Atticus and Bethany. At least with them not around, I didn’t have to worry about slipping up and mentioning something about what had happened between Atticus and me.

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