Page 45 of Night Shift

Conan busied himself cleaning up. After a few minutes, I couldn’t resist asking, “What was that all about? Why did he react that way to my cut?”

“Don’t worry about it, Sam. It’s his cross to bear. He’s spent most of his life dealing with our mother’s shit. You’re not going to get through that wall any better than the rest of us. He’s built it to be impenetrable, like everything else about his heart. He’s ruthlessly unemotional. Don’t take it personally.”

I bit my lip as I thought about his words. “I don’t know. At the cabin, he seemed—”

“Don’t, Sam,” Conan said. “Don’t get your hopes up with him. I know y’all…well, had a good time, but that’s all it was. Atticus doesn’t do relationships. I’d hate to see a smart, pretty girl like you get hurt. He is who he is.”

The memory of Conan and Braxton walking in on us while we were in the hot tub had my face getting hot. “Oh, about that night…you haven’t told anyone, have you?” I had to ask. I needed the closure.

“Hell no. I’d never do that. I’m not some gossip. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Although his answer gave me a sense of relief, the tension in the room remained thick. Conan, sensing my unease, shifted the conversation by changing the topic.

“Hey, Sam, are you going to the hospital’s holiday party this weekend?” He gave me a crooked smile.

“Um, I don’t know.” I hesitated, glancing toward the door where Atticus had disappeared. “Bethany and Marissa have tried to convince me I should go, even though I don’t have a date. But I haven’t decided yet.” I couldn’t look him in the eye, so instead I picked at the bandage on my arm, embarrassed at the admission.

“Ah, well, that’s easily solved!” Conan exclaimed, turning to face his older brother, who had just reentered the room. “How about it, Sam? Would you like to go to the gala with me?”

Atticus visibly stiffened at Conan’s proposition. He tried to hide his reaction by looking down at the clipboard in his hand, but the jealousy that flickered across his features was unmistakable. The sight gave me a strange satisfaction and sent an amused thrill skittering across my skin. After all, he’d ignored me for weeks after we’d visited his cabin, leaving me feeling used and discarded.

“Sure, Conan,” I said, smiling brightly. “Since you gallantly saved the princess”—I playfully winked at him—“it’s only fitting that my knight in shining armor should take me to the gala. I’d love to go with you.” Shit, had the shock from the attack brought out some cocky inner bitch I didn’t know about?

Atticus’s jaw tightened, and he looked away from us, clearly bothered by my decision. I wanted him to know that I was genuinely interested in getting to know his brother and was not just trying to make him jealous. But deep down, a part of me also wanted to see if it would affect him.

“Great!” Conan grinned broadly.

Atticus made a derisive noise, unable to stop himself. “Ah,” he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “How…nice for you both.”

“Come on, Atti,” Conan chided, rolling his eyes. “You’ve already got your hotshot OB-GYN doc as your date, remember? No need to be so grumpy about it.”

The mention of Atticus’s date sent a pang of jealousy through me, though I tried to suppress it. Atticus’s eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, I worried the brothers would come to blows right there in the sterile hospital room.

Instead, Atticus crossed his arms, held the clipboard over his chest, and leaned against the wall, avoiding eye contact with Conan and me as he scrutinized his fingernails. “Fine,” he ground out through clenched teeth, then glanced at his watch. “Do whatever you want.”

“Great!” Conan beamed, seemingly unfazed by the tension between him and his brother. He turned to me, his green eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s a date then, Sam,” he said, giving me a sweet little kiss on the cheek.

“Fine,” Atticus grumbled. “Enjoy your little party.”

“You bet we will,” Conan shot back, still smirking. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to make sure Sam is doing okay after that ordeal.”

“Whatever, just make sure you get some rest and keep those sutures clean, Sheridan,” Atticus muttered, pushing himself off the wall.

“Was there some reason you came back to my room?” I asked.

Flustered, Atticus walked over to me. “Yes…well, I wanted to check you for a concussion. Let’s do that, shall we?” He turned to Conan with a glare, set his shoulders stiffly, and clenched his jaw. “All right, Samantha, I’m going to check your pupils first,” he said then, his voice all business. He shone a small light into my eyes. I tried not to blink too much. With his face this close to mine, I could see that the usual warmth in his eyes had been replaced with something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher.

Conan, who was standing a little too close for comfort, watched the procedure intently. “She took quite a hit, Atticus. I think she should stay and be monitored for a while.”

Atticus didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on his examination. Finally, he stepped back and sighed. “Your pupils are reacting normally, but I want to do a few more tests. And yes, she should definitely not drive home,” he said stiffly. “Can you follow my finger without moving your head?”

I nodded and did as he instructed.

As he continued with the examination, asking me to recall simple facts and testing my coordination, he avoided looking at Conan. Although he was behaving as professionally as ever, it did seem that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

When the exam was over, he spoke without making eye contact. “You seem to be okay for now, but I want you to let us monitor you for any changes for a couple of hours.”

“Thanks, Atticus,” Conan said, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Atticus just nodded formally. His eyes finally met mine for a fleeting moment before he turned and left the room.

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