Page 41 of I Still Love You

I carefully set the dummy we’ve been using on the table. It’s not as heavy as it looks but try holding it up while your partner explains and shows the Heimlich Maneuver three times an hour. Pair that with the sun leveling us with one of the hottest days of spring, and your arms would turn to jelly incredibly fast, too.

My scrubs stick to my body when I sit, and I wish I wouldn’t have worn the tank top I have underneath. I’m close to yanking it off and pouring a bottle of water over the thin spaghetti strap fabric when a shiver works up my spine, and I get the feeling I’m being watched. I pull my shirt from my skin to air it out and look around. My first thought is to check the divider, thinking it’s Luke or his friend, but when I glance over, there aren’t any eyes. All I see is the umbrella above Luke and Rebecca’s cubicle.

Trying to shake the discomfort, my gaze moves about, trying to find the reason for the sudden stiffness in my shoulders. They stop on the man in the booth across from me. Andrew. Even in the middle of explaining the science behind x-rays and how they’re effective in cases of injury, he can’t keep his eyes to himself. Go figure.

I groan and hide my face in my hands, brushing them over my cheeks to swipe away the buildup of sweat. I can’t stand the way my skin crawls under his gaze or the way this nagging sense of discomfort washes over me. Of all the places Garrett could place his booth, it had to be directly across from mine. Like my time back in Quaint hasn’t been dramatic enough, I now get to sit here while Andrew steals glances and smirks like he’s won the lottery. I get this itchy feeling like he doesn’t believe Luke and I’s ruse, as if there’s no possible way Luke would ever give me another chance. I guess news spread two years ago. Knowing all eyes were on Luke only makes me feel worse about it. The pity that everyone must have looked at him with…

“You ready for lunch?” Crystal, my partner for the day, asks. She’s a night-shift nurse, so we haven’t had the chance to interact a lot, but judging by the rock on her finger, it’s safe to say she’s a few years older than me. She pulls the elastic band from her light brown hair, collects it, and fixes her ponytail before continuing. “I can’t fathom eating something hot right now. I’m thinking a salad or a wrap or something. What do you say?”

I nod in agreement. Just the thought of warm food instantly turns me off from wanting to eat. I need something that’ll bring my temperature down. “Are you going to the cafeteria or the tent?”

“Girl, I worked the graveyard shift and have had to stand in the heat all day. I’m only walking as far as the cafeteria if I absolutely need to. I saw the lady in the booth next to us walk by with a bag of food. It must have been from the supply tent.”

I nod again and lift my feet up on a box propped under our table as I sit. “Tent it is, then. I’ll eat almost anything, minus that capicola crap.”

Her brow furrows. “The lunch meat on Italian sandwiches?”

“That’s it, so no Italian subs or wraps for me. Surprise me.”

She gathers her wallet and moves around the table. “I’ll grab lunch today, and you can cover it tomorrow. That good with you?”

I salute her and rest my head back on the chair after propping up our off for lunch sign, figuring there won’t be many people walking around to request a Heimlich lesson. The chair, metal and uncomfortable, offers the opportunity to get off my feet, so I close my eyes for a moment and enjoy the reprieve. Crystal and I have been busting our asses, and there’s been a steady flow of people walking through the clinic booths. Garrett, not wanting the community to have to endure the summer heat, threw it together in just under two weeks. Not like the timing ended up mattering. It’s the hottest day of the season.

My few minutes of relaxing don’t last long. Once I finally sense Andrew isn’t watching me, footsteps drawing near make me jerk my eyes open. I’m ready to lay into the man, to stand to my feet and tell him to get lost, only it’s not Andrew.

“Oh, hi.” Hastily, I lower my feet from my makeshift ottoman. “I’m Layla, and I work in the emergency room at Regional. Are you familiar with the Heimlich Maneuver?”

I clear my throat, my gaze connecting with the man’s caramel brown eyes. He’s grinning, and I’m unsure if it’s because I introduced myself before taking him in or due to him finding me with my feet kicked up when I should be working. I spot short, inky hair when he adjusts his ball cap. At the promise of a dusting of a five o’clock shadow along his jawline, he smiles wider, showing off his pristine teeth.

He squints, a glimmer in his gaze as he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “Did you say your name’s Layla?”

I angle my head slightly as I get to my feet. His form towers over me, and it hits me—he’s the one I saw looking over the divider from Luke’s booth. The hat threw me off, but now that I’m able to connect his height to his eyes, it makes total sense. I can’t help but wonder if Luke sent him over to talk to me because he’s too afraid to after what happened in that research room. Then again, I don’t think there’s much that man is afraid of.

I roll my lips into my mouth, crossing my arms across my chest. Here’s the thing…I’m boiling over here and don’t want to play games. I can’t think straight when the sun’s rays are sneaking through the microscopic holes in the umbrella’s woven fabric above us. “I saw you from Luke’s booth,” I tell him, nodding in the direction of the divider wall, “peeking over here. Is there something you need?”

A playful fire appears in the lightness of his stare, and his eyebrows quickly raise. “I can see why he likes you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No,” he says, “but it answers mine.” Extending his open hand in my direction. “Name’s Jett. A friend of Luke’s.”

I debate accepting his greeting, consider placing my hand in his palm and welcoming him into my world when I already have Luke confusing me. Do I really need his friend part of what’s going on? It’s bad enough my mom thinks Luke and I are serious again, but maybe Jett doesn’t know about the past we share.

Hesitantly, I reach to shake his hand. “Layla, but, uh, you already know that.” Luke rounds the corner of the white divider wall a second later. We haven’t had a proper conversation since that moment, and does he regret it? What the hell do I do? Do I greet him like I just introduced myself to Jett—a steady handshake? Do I smile and remain reserved? Do I fling my arms around his neck and beg for him to slide his lips against me again?

I don’t miss Luke’s eyes grazing my body, licking the length of my legs until he’s on my face. My body thrums to life as he approaches. Stopping a mere three, maybe four, feet from me, I look up into those green eyes of his and question him through our stare.

Why did you touch me like that? Why did you leave without saying a word? What does this mean for us?

“Don’t listen to a word he says,” Luke warns while sporting an easy-going smirk. “The only time he isn’t full of shit is when he’s out on the field, and even then, it’s debatable.” Luke’s voice is teasing. It’s so damn attractive that my neck sweats more than it already is. My breasts strain against my clothes, my nipples pebbling when I flash back to that moment of his teeth cutting into my shoulder.

I rub my hands together for no reason other than a distraction. “Out on the field?” I glance between the two of them.

Jett licks his lips, and amusement swirls in his brown eyes and pretty face. “I play for the Quentin Wolves.”

The Quentin Wolves?

I’ve heard the name before. “Quentin Wolves?”

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