Page 51 of Night Shift

I couldn’t hold back any longer. “You know, Atticus, it’s not my physical condition you should be worrying about. You owe me—and Conan—an apology for how rude you were.”

Bethany’s eyes snapped to me, but I barreled on.

“And you can’t just coldheartedly ignore me for weeks and then act all concerned because you had to do your job as the attending ED doctor. I’m not going to be all Suzy Sunshine just because you decide to check in now.”

Bethany’s eyebrows shot up.

Realizing I’d let slip more than I’d intended, I quickly wrapped up the call. “Good night, Dr. Thorin. Thanks for the medical advice,” I said, laying the sarcasm on thick before ending the call.

Without missing a beat, she crossed her arms and turned to me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Suzy Sunshine, huh? That’s a new one.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Please don’t ask, Beth. It’s complicated.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Your secret’s safe with me. But seriously, if you need to talk…”

“I know,” I said, and although I was grateful for her friendship, I didn’t want to get into it all right now. “Let’s just get back to the show, okay? Henry Cavill needs to make an appearance in my dreams tonight.”

Bethany giggled before pressing play, but the curious side-eye she gave me said this conversation was far from over.

The days that followed blended together, marked by my recovery and Bethany’s unwavering support. My bruises slowly began to change from angry purples and blues to sickly greens and yellows. Even though this was a sign of healing, every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, it disheartened me. By Saturday morning, the reality of the holiday gala loomed over me like a dark cloud.

My dread of the upcoming evening pressed down on me as I sat at Bethany’s kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee and nibbling on toast. “Beth, I’m not sure if I should go tonight,” I finally admitted, breaking the silence.

Bethany placed her mug of coffee down mid-sip and gave me a puzzled look. “Why on earth not?”

I gestured to myself, pointing out the bruises covering my arms and then the stitches, which stood out starkly against my fair skin. “Look at me. I’m a mess. And this”—I touched the bandaged cut on my arm gingerly—“is far from pretty.”

Bethany stood up, walked over, and took a friendly hold of my shoulders, turning me to face her directly. “Sam, you’re going to be fine. Marissa and I have already scoped out the perfect dress for you. She’s bringing over some options with long sleeves—perfect for hiding those bruises and keeping you warm. It’s the end of November, after all.”

I smiled a little at her enthusiasm. “And the cut on my cheek?” I asked skeptically.

“With a bit of makeup magic, we’ll have it looking like nothing more than a shadow. You’ll see; you’re going to look fabulous,” she said, reassuring me with a confidence I wished I could feel.

“Okay…but what about Conan? I don’t want to ruin his night by showing up looking like I just crawled out of a dumpster.”

“Conan? What’s there to worry about?” A grin spread across her face. “He’s not only drop-dead gorgeous, but also one of the most relaxed, laid-back guys I know. Honestly, if I hadn’t…you know, fucked his brother, I’d be all over that.”

My cheeks heated up, and I quickly took a sip of coffee to hide my embarrassment.

“Don’t leave Conan hanging, especially after he’s been so great. Plus, it’s a chance for you to get out and forget about everything for a little while,” Bethany nudged, her tone turning serious.

Her encouragement, coupled with the reminder of Conan’s kindness, solidified my resolve. “Okay, okay, I’ll go,” I conceded, setting down my mug with a sigh.

Bethany clapped her hands together and beamed. “That’s the spirit! Tonight is about us having fun and showing the world that nothing’s going to keep Samantha Sheridan down. Besides, just wait until you see the dresses Marissa’s bringing over—you’re going to love them.”

A short while later, Marissa arrived, lugging what seemed like an entire closet’s worth of dresses, shoes, and makeup. She grinned at me as she set down her haul on Bethany’s living room floor, exclaiming, “Behold, your fairy godmother has arrived!”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” I said, eyeing the assortment of gala-worthy attire she’d brought. “Did you leave anything in your closet?”

Marissa chuckled, shaking her head. “For you? I’d bring the whole thing if I could.”

We sifted through the dresses, the room filling with the sound of hangers clinking and fabric rustling. Marissa and Bethany shared the latest hospital gossip, recounting stories and updates I’d missed during my days away. Their tales, a mix of the absurd and the endearing, reminded me of the camaraderie I’d been starting to truly enjoy.

“Okay, ladies, snack time?” Bethany suggested after a while, moving toward the kitchen. Shortly, she returned carrying a tray laden with cheese, crackers, and grapes. She carefully set it down among the scattered makeup items.

Marissa popped open a bottle of prosecco and poured each of us a glass. “To Samantha’s gala debut,” she toasted, raising her glass.

We clinked glasses, and the lighthearted banter continued as we indulged in the sparkling wine and snacks. The atmosphere was a perfect blend of anticipation and relaxation, a good distraction after worrying so much over who’d attacked me.

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