Page 36 of Day Shift

By the time he’d finished the song, I was so wrapped up in his playing and the sound of his voice that I hadn’t realized how much my imagination had run wild. I was having a vivid daydream about those very fingers, imagining how well he could play—me—and betting mentally that he could make me sing too.

Conan cleared his throat, yanking me back to reality, and I realized he’d finished his song. He had a knowing smile on his face. I’d been caught in the act, staring a bit too intently, my thoughts wandering to places they probably shouldn’t. My cheeks heated up instantly. Trying to recover, I dipped my head, biting my lip in a mix of embarrassment and lingering thrill.

Conan just chuckled. He seemed to know exactly the effect he had on me. He shifted to retrieve a bottle of water from the nearby tray. Seizing the moment, I stretched across him, my hand grazing his side as I snagged a few butter mints from the pile. Unwrapping one, I popped it into my mouth and started crunching it loudly.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to let those melt, not demolish them. You should savor the peppermint flavor as it lingers on your tongue,” he teased.

Mischievously I glanced over at him and unwrapped another mint, this time holding it between my fingers and licking it slowly and deliberately. Conan watched wordlessly, running his fingers across his lips as I tucked the candy into my cheek with an impish smile.

“I see you’re one who likes living dangerously,” he said, giving me a full-on smirk.

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh.

“What did I say about rolling your eyes?” he growled, picking up his guitar.

My easy laughter blended with the soft strumming. He began Kenny Chesney’s “Take Her Home,” his voice a soft hum that filled the room with a sweet melancholy. The soothing melody and his soulful voice made everything else fade away, and I found myself lost in the moment.

When the last notes of the song had trailed off into the stillness of the room, Conan set his guitar aside and turned to face me, his eyes locking with mine in a gaze that seemed to drill right into my core. He inched closer, and I got lost in the flecks of gold in his green eyes.

For a moment, we just sat there, the space between us charged. It was as if an unseen magnet was drawing us together. My breath hitched, my heart thumping against my ribs like it wanted to break free.

He leaned forward, cupping my cheek as he traced my lips with his thumb. I dared not blink or breathe out of fear of giving in to the temptation of desire swirling around us. His lips hovered over mine, close enough that I caught the minty freshness of his breath.

Then the tension snapped, and our lips met softly, tentatively at first, coaxing a response I hadn’t planned but couldn’t resist.

His kiss grew hungrier, more urgent, as one arm encircled me, pulling me into him while his hand moved to tangle his fist in my hair. His strength was unmistakable, not just in the hold he had on me, but in the gentleness he managed despite it. I melted into his embrace, my hands finding the back of his neck, drawing him deeper into the kiss. The lingering taste of mint on our tongues only amped up the craving within me.

The kiss intensified, and in that moment, nothing else existed—no hospital rules, no murky past, just the undeniable connection that sizzled wherever our skin touched.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it shattered. Conan pulled back, his face full of regret and something darker, more intense. He swallowed hard, sliding his hands down my arms before pushing me away, leaving me cold and confused.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, the words rough around the edges. “I shouldn’t have done that. Nurses don’t kiss their patients.”

I sat there, stunned, my lips still tingling from his touch. Part of me wanted to pull him back, to taste his lips again, to lose myself in that rush. But in reality, I realized the kiss had been a stolen moment. My memory was still patchy, and Conan was a nurse at this hospital. We couldn’t do this.

“It’s okay,” I managed to say, forcing a small smile onto my lips. “We just got caught up in the music, that’s all.”

His eyes were full of torment, as though he was torn between what he wanted to do and what he thought he should do. “You’re right. Forget that it ever happened,” he said quickly, standing up. He took his guitar in hand and stepped back. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

And he was gone before I could even reply.

After the door clicked shut, I lay back against my pillows, my mind racing. His departure left an empty space in my soul. It was just a kiss…but the thrill of it had sparked fantasies that I couldn’t allow myself to wish for. If he only knew what I really wanted to do to him, even he would blush.

As I lay there, the hospital room seemed more confining than ever—like a cage keeping me from freedom. Even though my brain was a dysfunctional mess, it didn’t mean I wasn’t a woman with a healthy sexual appetite. I might not remember my partners, but I knew without a doubt I was no virgin. During one of the many discussions with my doctors about the tests they’d conducted, both while I was unconscious and those I’d consented to after waking, they’d assured me that my IUD was still properly placed and that my labs showed no STIs. There had also been no alcohol or drugs in my system on the day of the wreck—news I’d been happy to hear. It was strange knowing I’d had sex but not being able to recall any details. Somewhere deep down, though, my instincts told me I relished it. I supposed that was why I craved what I couldn’t have—at least for now—with Conan. But one thing was clear: I would have my wicked way with him. It was just a matter of time. No hospital rules or professional boundaries would keep that attraction from igniting once we were both free to explore it.

Chapter twenty-one

The last ten days had gone by painfully slow.

Each one had rolled into the next, a blur of relentless routines that were both comforting and suffocating. A range of rehabilitation treatments—from the exhausting to the mind-numbing—filled my schedule. Physical therapy was the only one I looked forward to. It wasn’t just the physical exertion that helped; it was also the one thing that made me feel like I was truly doing something to fight back against the fog in my brain and the annoying weakness in my muscles. For that one hour a day, I could channel all my frustrations into pushing against the limits of my recovering body. Outside those sessions, my reality was increasingly constrained by the barrage of therapies aimed at unlocking my mind, which remained stubbornly closed off.

Particularly grating had been the neuropsychologist, a man whose smile seemed permanently absent. He poked and prodded at my psyche like I was some strange phenomenon to be studied. “This might jog your memory,” he would say, introducing yet another set of bizarre tests. I didn’t have any problem meeting with a therapist who wanted to talk. I craved conversation. Any human contact beat sitting in my room feeling like a pound puppy nobody wanted. But Dr. Schneider was an odd man with no personality who treated me like a science experiment. He was uninterested in small talk or understanding my feelings in any genuine way. Yuck. No thanks.

Worse than the therapies, though, was the silence from Conan. Since the kiss, he hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t even sent a message through Samantha.

She had been wonderful, dropping by with a laptop, some books, and more clothes, trying to keep my spirits up. Earlier today, when I’d finally dared to ask about Conan, she had swiftly steered the conversation elsewhere. But I needed to know, so I’d pushed her for an answer. Her eyes had shifted between me and the doorway as she picked up the TV remote and turned up the volume. Then, she’d leaned in and whispered, “I can’t say too much, and when you get out of the hospital and all, Conan will explain. He’d be all sorts of pissed off at me if I told you anything. Let’s just say he has good reasons not to come see you, and you shouldn’t be mad at him. It’s something that’s beyond his control. Just so you know, HR really doesn’t want me hanging out with you either. Hospital policies are complicated, but it’s nothing you should worry about. Trust me on this, okay?”

I’d slowly nodded in agreement. Her words hadn’t made any sense, but I let it go, not wanting to get her in trouble or push her away. My best guess was that the hospital didn’t want its staff hanging out with criminals like me. I bet the guards told the higher-ups about how Sam and especially Conan had been visiting me a lot. Couple that with Conan’s obvious regret for kissing me, and I couldn’t blame him for steering clear of me. But it still hurt that he made no effort to explain after spending so much time with me. He could have at least sent a note with Sam or something. Maybe I was being petty, but he of all people should know how disappearing would affect me. I didn’t understand, and it was really pissing me off. But what could I do about it? Absolutely nothing.

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