Page 38 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

He looks up, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join the party, Doc? This view's a whole lot better than those four white walls you're used to. Goes well with the alcohol.” He holds up the bottle, his question hanging in the air.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Tempting, but even off-duty, alcohol and hospitals don't exactly mix.”

“Man, my job’s better. I can drink any damn time of the day,” Damon jokes, lifting his bottle in a mock toast.

I sit down beside him, shaking my head with a smile. “Why are you here? You sick or something?”

“Can’t a guy visit his friend anymore?” Damon retorts, feigning offense. “Just here to do booze and stare off into the horizon.”

“Well, there you are. Unfortunately, you’ll have to do the booze alone.”

He snorts, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Ah, come on, live a little. Navy life didn't exactly encourage responsible drinking, did it?”

The memory of our wild days in the Navy brings a wave of nostalgia crashing over me. We spend the next few minutes reminiscing, sharing stories of drunken escapades and near-death experiences that only veterans can understand. As the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the park, the conversation turns more personal.

“So,” Damon begins, tilting his head toward me, “how are things going with the lovely Emma? Has the daredevil charm of Dr. Liam finally rubbed off on her?”

“Things are good,” I reply, trying to sound casual. In truth, things are more than good. They are confusing, exhilarating, and downright frustrating all at the same time.

Damon raises an eyebrow. “Good? You know Emma wouldn't have dreamed of a public display of affection two weeks ago. What happened?”

A chuckle escapes my lips. “Let's just say she's got a wild side most people wouldn't expect.” The memory of our heated kiss in the alleyway flashes through my mind, sending a jolt of heat through me.

He shakes his head, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Emma's always been…special. Strong-willed, independent, the kind of woman who marches to the beat of her own drum. Take care of her, Liam. She deserves someone who can handle her fire.” A flicker of worry crosses his features. “She's fragile, you know. Despite the tough exterior.”

A pang of guilt twists in my gut. Suddenly, the whole charade we've started feels less like playful revenge and more like a potential minefield. Am I messing with something I shouldn't?

“Don't worry, Damon,” I assure him, my voice forced into lightness. “I know what I'm doing.” But even as the words leave my mouth, a sliver of doubt remains.

Just then, the topic shifts to the wedding. Damon enthusiastically launches into a list of best-man duties, his voice filled with excitement. I listen, a half-smile on my face, as he outlines his vision for a bachelor party that would make Vegas blush. In response, I playfully threaten to sic June on him, knowing full well the lioness within her will roar if he crosses any lines.

Our laughter is interrupted by the sharp trill of my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket, I see Emma's name on the screen. A grin spreads across my face. Has she finally caved?

“Hey,” I answer, my voice adopting a casual tone.

“Liam, where are you? Are you still on duty?” Her voice, laced with a hint of urgency, drifts through the phone.

“No, I'm at the park next to the hospital. Finished my shift a while ago,” I explain. “What's up?”

“Good. I'm coming to pick you up.” She doesn't wait for a reply before hanging up.

I glance at Damon, who raises his eyebrows in a question. “That was Emma,” I say, a surge of excitement coursing through me. “She's on her way to get me.”

He claps me on the shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face. “Well, don't keep the lady waiting, Doc. Go get 'em, tiger.”

With a wink and a final chuckle, Damon gets up and saunters off, leaving me alone in the park, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and wariness. The playful banter with Damon has been a welcome distraction, but his words echo in my mind: “She's fragile, you know. Despite the tough exterior.” Is this whole charade with Emma a ticking time bomb waiting to explode?

Sure, she surprised me with the kiss in the alleyway, a fiery display of defiance that threw me off-balance. But is there more to her than just anger and a desire to get back at me?

The sound of a car engine approaching jolts me from my thoughts. Peering through the trees, I see Emma's sleek red car pull up to the curb. Her window rolls down and she leans out, her expression unreadable.

“Get in,” she commands, her voice clipped and devoid of the playful banter we've exchanged earlier. There is a tension in the air, a sense of unspoken urgency that both intrigues and worries me.

Without a word, I jog over to the car and slide into the passenger seat. She slams the car into gear and pulls away, leaving the park behind in a blur of streetlights and passing cars. Neither of us speaks, the silence thick and heavy in the confined space.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, I clear my throat. “So,” I start, my voice sounding rough in the silence, “what's going on? You said you were coming to pick me up. Is everything alright?”

She remains focused on the road, her lips a tight line. For a moment, I think she won't answer. Then, to my surprise, a single word escapes her lips.

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